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 IN 
 
 TWO VOLUMES. 
 
 Ut in vita, sic in studiis, pulcherrimum et humanis- 
 siinum existimo, severitatem comitatemque rniscere, ne 
 ilia in tristitiam, heec in petulantiara procedat. 
 
 Plin. JSpist. 
 
 FOURTH EDITION, 
 
 WITH ADDITIONS AND CORRECTIONS. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR 
 
 LONGMAN, HURST, HEES, ORME, BROWN, AND GREEN, 
 PATERNOSTER-ROW. 
 
 1824. 
 
London : 
 
 Printed by A. & R. Spottiswoode, 
 
 New-Street-Square. 
 
TO HER, 
 
 WHOSE CONFIDENCE ANIMATES THE WEAK, 
 
 cT NERVES THE STRONG, AND CONFIRMS THE DOUBTFUL; 
 n 
 
 "^ TO HER, 
 
 J WHOSE SMILE SOOTHES AFFLICTION, 
 
 J. 
 J ELEVATES DESPONDENCY, AND ANTICIPATES HAPPINESS; 
 
 i 
 
 AND TO HER, 
 
 WHO, UNITING THE QUALITIES OF HER SISTERS, 
 
 IRRADIATES THE BREAST, 
 
 AND DIFFUSES THROUGH THE WORLD 
 
 V THE SUNSHINE OF RELIGIOUS PERFECTION; 
 
 £ IS THIS WORK DEDICATED; 
 
 WHICH ENDEAVOURS TO SET FORTH THE ENDOWMENTS 
 ^ OF THESE, 
 
 3 
 
 ^ THE CHRISTIAN GRACES, 
 
 i FAITH, HOPE, AND CHARITY. 
 
 A 2 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 It is the fashion of the age in which we 
 live to mistake the outward show of se- 
 riousness and gloominess of deportment 
 for the effect of true religion, and to de- 
 termine on the merits and demerits of all 
 " who call themselves Christians" by their 
 professions and appearance, mthout suf- 
 ficient regard to principles and doctrine. 
 Hence it is, that one part of the Evan- 
 gelical world excludes from the pale of 
 genuine religion all who have a cheerful- 
 ness of manner, and a liveliness of spirit ; 
 because, they say, these are signs of a 
 carnal and unconverted mind. In like 
 manner they are anathematized as stran- 
 
 A 3 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 gers to the heritage of God, who conform 
 witli those necessary usages of the world, 
 and comply with those innocent amuse- 
 ments and customs of society, which give 
 a zest to the more serious " things which 
 belong to their peace." Others there are, 
 not only Members but Ministers of the 
 Church, who, either from want of suf- 
 ficient firmness, or from an overstrained 
 notion of charity, concede, by piecemeal, 
 the good and wholesome doctrines of 
 primitive times, in compliance with the 
 sickly taste of the age, and embrace in 
 one bond of brotherly love even those 
 who abjure the very key-stone of the 
 " faith delivered to the Saints ;" whilst 
 taose to whom such concessions have 
 been made are ready, like wise and cal- 
 culating politicians, to convert such ad- 
 missions to their owni advantage, and use 
 them as engines by which they may 
 e\entually sap the very foundation upon 
 which the Establishment is built. 
 
PREFACE. Vll 
 
 It becomes, therefore, an imperious 
 duty, urgently incumbent upon all friends, 
 and particularly upon the Ministers of the 
 English Church, to use their endeavours 
 to stem this tide of innovation and per- 
 versity, which at first wound its way like 
 a silent streamlet, but is now sweeping 
 its current broadly and rapidly, and 
 unless timely checked by those mounds 
 and barriers which it requires only incli- 
 nation and industry to raise, will burst 
 out into a wild and ungovernable torrent 
 of ruin and inundation. 
 
 It is an alarming truth, that every year 
 witnesses some attempt to undermine the 
 Establishment, which, however built upon 
 the Rock of Ages, must crumble away 
 unless duly and properly defended : for 
 unless we wake from our lethargy, and 
 resist firmly, temperately, and charitably 
 these innovations, they will end, in the 
 course of events, in the subversion of 
 
VUl PREFACE. 
 
 every thing tliat is orthodox, venerable, 
 and established. 
 
 The object of this work is to explain 
 the doctrines of Christianity, as embodied 
 in the Articles of our Church, in the most 
 attractive manner, and in a way to ex- 
 cite the attention of Readers who w^ould 
 not otherwise be induced to enter into 
 the consideration of these subjects ; as 
 well as to offer a defence of our Liturgy, 
 our Clergy, and our Ritual. And in 
 doing this, our readers must bear in 
 mind, what the title imports, that the 
 work, from its very nature, whilst it 
 makes the faith of Jesus its corner-stone, 
 necessarily has something for the body. 
 Light incidents, and occasionally a less 
 serious style, are employed to attract 
 those to subjects of deeper interest, who, 
 otherwise, might not deign to bestow a 
 thought, much less an hour's reading, 
 upon a book exclusively religious. We 
 wish, therefore, to be judged by this 
 
PREFACE. IX 
 
 standard, and desire critics not to forget, 
 that we are writing for the Body in order 
 to be serviceable to the Soul. And we 
 beg it most unequivocally to be under- 
 stood that nothing in it is intended as 
 personal — nothing is designed to be 
 offensive to those whose opinions are at 
 variance with it — nothing is aimed at 
 but the wish to support the ancient faith 
 and practice of our venerable Church ; 
 that while open violence is threatening 
 without, and cowardice and weakness 
 are spreading within, all who value the 
 Establishment, in the spirit of Christian 
 charity, will not only hold fast their 
 faith, but evidence to others its effect 
 upon their hearts and conversation; and 
 that while the serious and sound-minded 
 find in these volumes matter for useful 
 consideration, the less devout may derive 
 that amusement which may lead to some- 
 thing higher and more substantial ; and 
 while the wavering and unsteady may be 
 
X PREFACE. 
 
 induced to consider and re-model their 
 principles, all may at length present that 
 lovely and heavenly picture which exists 
 now only in a distant expectation of 
 " one fold under one Shepherd, Jesus 
 Christ." 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 OF 
 
 THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Town Rector i 
 
 The Philosophical Painter - . - - 7 
 
 The Merchant's Family - - - - 35 
 
 The Sick Penitent 66 
 
 The Unitarian 91 
 
 The Clerical Conference - - - - 126 
 
 The Lunatic Asylum 161 
 
 The Liturgy - - 200 
 
 The Assizes 242 
 
 The Athanasian Creed , - - . 275 
 
 The Fatalist 306 
 
 Domiciliary Visits 338 
 
THE TOWN RECTOR. 
 
 Dr. Freeman was Rector of one of those over- 
 grown parishes, which, in some of the large 
 mercantile and manufacturing towns of this 
 kingdom, are more productive of population 
 than income. His consisted of a very large 
 flock, whose sentiments on the subject of re- 
 ligion and politics were mixed and widely 
 divided. The pohtical body admitted of three 
 distinctions : those who were Ministerial, those 
 who were adverse to the Administration, and 
 those who were friendly to no Government ; 
 which latter description doubled the other two. 
 The religious body, which was composed of 
 about half the number of the whole population, 
 was divided and subdivided into as many, and as 
 distinct, parts as the sermons of many eminent, 
 ancient di\ines : those who were of Dr. Free- 
 man's opinions, were to others of a contrary 
 persuasion in proportion of about one to twelve. 
 
 YOL. I. B 
 
2 THE TOWN RECTOR. 
 
 The Doctor, however, who was held in high 
 esteem, both as a scholar and a man of somid 
 judgment, had entered upon his charge with a 
 determination to keep clear of all political 
 parties, — to support the orthodox tenets of 
 his faith and calling, — and to cultivate by affa- 
 bility of manners and liberality of sentiments, a 
 friendly intercourse with the respectable part of 
 his parishioners, and, if possible, by uniting 
 ' gentleness of manners with firmness of prin- 
 ciple,' to gain the regard of them all. 
 
 He was warmly and zealously attached to the 
 constitution of the Established Church. At the 
 same time, he never contended that her doc- 
 trines were necessarily and exclusively to be 
 received as the onli^ means of salvation. He did 
 not arrogate to himself certiiinty of a right de- 
 cision ; '' because," he said, " the Church her- 
 self does not lay claim to such infallibility." It 
 was his maxim and practice to exhort every man 
 to embrace those religious principles which, 
 whether promulged by the Church or by any 
 sect of Christians, his reason and conscience 
 jointly approved. It was his earnest desire that 
 every man should firmly adhere to that commu- 
 nion which his unbiassed judgment considered 
 
THE TOWN RECTOR. S 
 
 the most rational, the most holy, and the most 
 consonant with the revealed will of God. And 
 as he freely allowed this liberty to others, he 
 claimed the same for himself. He would say, 
 " It is not because I have been educated in the 
 doctrines of our Church, that I am a member 
 of it, but because, after a deep and anxious 
 investigation of religious truth, I have the most 
 awful conviction on my mind that they are both 
 rational and scriptural, and therefore I embrace 
 and uphold them." 
 
 His animadversions were, therefore, rarely 
 pointed at persons or sects : those, however, 
 of his own Church who he conceived had 
 wrested the articles of her faith from their 
 legitimate interpretation, and added to the 
 perversion of them a conduct of austerity as far 
 removed from the genuine spirit of Christianity 
 as it was from the constitution of human nature, 
 had to encounter in him a firm, a rational, and 
 an able opponent. He held in equal abhor- 
 rence the puritanical hypocrisy of unlettered 
 inspiration, and the unblushing arrogance of 
 exclusive evangelism. He reprobated that 
 Pharisaical reputation at which they aimed who 
 assumed an air of austere gravity, whilst the 
 
 B 2 
 
4 THE TOWN RFXTOR. 
 
 countenances of others beamed with that delight 
 which mental composure, the result of Christian 
 charity and faith, shed upon them. " God," 
 he would say, " has thrown over the works of 
 his Creation a thousand unnecessary and super- 
 fluous joys, to show man that he has given to 
 him something more than a bare existence ; 
 and whilst all the flowers which loaded the 
 sales of Paradise with fragrance invite him to 
 enjojanent, the tree of sin, alone, he may not 
 taste. If the manifestations of the displeasure 
 of God held out in Scripture be so awful as to 
 inspire dread, the declarations of mercy and 
 forgiveness are sufficient to produce love." 
 
 The Doctor himself, though a man of piety, 
 and at all times impressed with a deep sense of 
 the awful responsibility of his charge, uniformly 
 declared that it was only by the preservation of 
 his natural cheerfulness, as the fruit of his re- 
 ligious faith, that he could support and go 
 through the various duties of his important pro^ 
 fession. While he enjoyed the recreation and 
 delight of intelligent society, and mixed in 
 harmless pleasures, he never lost sight of the 
 " one thing needful." Relaxation of mind he 
 felt to be necessary ; for he had read in iEsop, 
 
THE TOWN RECTOR. a 
 
 and learnt from experience, that the bow con- 
 tinually strung loses its power. It was indeed 
 from the source of genuine and vital religion 
 that he derived that pleasurable frame of mind 
 which enabled him either to contribute to 
 hilarity, or partake of the amusements which 
 constituted the essence of elegant and social 
 life. Whenever, but it was seldom, he found 
 himself inclined to yield to despondency or un- 
 usual gravity, he uniformly traced it from a 
 conviction of some dereliction of duty, or from 
 some restlessness arising from temporary doubts, 
 that arrayed themselves in opposition to his 
 religious feelings; but when those clouds of 
 despair were removed either by a return to that 
 practical virtue which had been suspended, or 
 by dispelling the obscure mists which concealed 
 the light of religion from his view, happiness 
 again took possession of his mind, and mani- 
 fested itself in those sallies of cheerfulness and 
 delight, which, by his demeanour and conversa- 
 tion, were communicated to all around him. 
 
 He was a man who had been tried by afflic- 
 tion ; but his happy temper, and still more 
 happy principles, had elevated him above all 
 distrust: like a sound, well-directed, and sea- 
 
 B 3 
 
6 THE TOWN RECTOR. 
 
 worthy vessel, he majestically rode upon the 
 troubled ocean, despite the perilous storm and 
 dangers of the deep — for, he had experienced 
 and felt the power of religion. He had been 
 a most aflPectionate husband, and the fondest 
 father ; but he was now, alas ! neither. His 
 sorrows had obtained for him the sympathy of 
 the good and virtuous ; and whilst his calm and 
 dignified resignation had inspired reverence for 
 his character, his urbanity and benevolence had 
 purchased for him universal admiration and 
 esteem. 
 
9 
 7 
 
 THE 
 
 PHILOSOPHICAL PAINTER. 
 
 Dr. Freeman was in habits of intimacy with 
 Mr. Lorraine, an artist of considerable eminence ; 
 who, in middle life, had become possessed of 
 great property in the \Vest Indies, bequeathed 
 to him by his only brother, who had acquired it 
 by patient industry, a clear calculating head, and 
 the exercise of a self-denial which had prevented 
 him from enjoying any unnecessary superfluity. 
 He possessed the same habit of industry with 
 his brother ; and uniformly devoted the greatest 
 part of his time to his late profession of a painter, 
 seldom leaving his room during the day, and as 
 seldom failing to pass his evenings either in 
 reading or astronomical observation, and not 
 unfrequently in writing upon scientific subjects. 
 He was a man of great natural genius ; but as 
 in his earlier days it had not been cultivated, it 
 was now his anxious desire, by a late, but an 
 
 B 4< 
 
8 THE PHILOSOPHICAL PAINTER. 
 
 earnest, diligence, to make up for those advan- 
 tages, the loss of which he never ceased to 
 deplore. Like a zealous traveller in search of 
 some precious relique, the discovery of which 
 promises to bring with it a great reputation, he 
 was continually racking his brain to discover the 
 hidden treasure, and in consequence of this inde- 
 fatigable research and exercise of mind, he gave 
 the public many testimonies of considerable talent 
 and unquestionable application. So impressed 
 was he with the superiority of mental endow- 
 ments, and so greatly did he lament the want of 
 an early cultivation of them in his own case, that 
 he spared no expense to procure those advan- 
 tages for his two children. His son, after the 
 usual routine of a well-regulated academical edu- 
 cation, was sent in his seventeenth year to the 
 University; and was prosecuting with every 
 prospect of high honours and success, studies, 
 not only congenial in every respect with the best 
 feelings of his soul and the bent of his genius, 
 but calculated to call forth all the energies of his 
 talents. These studies he pursued with unwearied 
 assiduity, and an avidity heightened by his ear- 
 nest desire to realize the high expectation which 
 a doting father had formed of his son's rising 
 
THE PHILOSOPHICAL PAINTER. 9 
 
 fmne. His (laughter, his eldest child, now about 
 twenty-two, was not more distinguished by 
 her elegant manners and person, than by a 
 highly cultivated understanding, and a temper 
 naturally sweet and gentle. As her motlier 
 had long been numbered with the dead, she 
 was the constant companion <- of her father, 
 and the pride and delight of his heart; whose 
 tender affection w^as returned by every act of 
 the most assiduous attention, paid with a cheer- 
 fulness of disposition that would have rivetted 
 die fond attachment of one less closely allied to 
 him. 
 
 Mr. Lorraine was sitting at the tea-table with 
 his daughter, to whom he was reading and en- 
 deavouring to explain a new work upon his 
 favourite amusement of astronomy, when the 
 servant announced Dr. Freeman as a visitor — 
 " My dear Doctor," said he, advancing to meet 
 him, " I am very happy to see you : and the 
 more so, as I have fallen upon a subject some- 
 what beyond my depth ; and I think I may add, 
 Maria will not be less pleased at this agreeable 
 interruption, as I have been occupying her atten - 
 tion for some time with perplexed doubts and 
 calculations, which she has listened to with her 
 
 B 5 
 
10 THE PHILOSOPHICAL PAINTER. 
 
 usual patience, more, I apprehend, for my grati- 
 fication than lier own." 
 
 " My dear neighbour," rephed the Doctor, 
 " you are always happy in your way of making 
 out that I come to you at such seasonable mo- 
 ments as these, though I often suspect you 
 are a sufferer from your politeness : but as I 
 thought you might not be particularly engaged, 
 I am come to drink tea with you, and enjoy your 
 society this evening." 
 
 " Indeed," said Maria, " we are always de- 
 lighted to see you in this friendly way, for tliere 
 is no one who takes more pleasure in your com- 
 pany and conversation than my father, unless it 
 be myself; for it is perfectly true, that I never 
 enjoy the pleasure of meeting you without de- 
 riving some advanta<je and useful information 
 from your conversation." 
 
 " After my death, I wish no other herald, 
 
 " No other speaker of my hving actions, 
 
 " To keep mine honour from corruption, 
 
 " But such a pleasing chronicler as Griffith !" 
 
 said the Doctor. " Come, Miss Lorraine; I 
 must not be made vain by your flattering and 
 partial opinion : but tell me. Sir, (turning to the 
 
THE PHILOSOPHICAL PAINTER. 11 
 
 father,) what was the subject of your joint medi- 
 tations when I interrupted them ?" 
 
 " ^Vhy, Doctor," said Mr. Lorraine, " I have, 
 as you see, been taking out my telescope to enjoy 
 a peep at the moon, which presents so briUiant 
 and beautiful an appearance this evening ; and in 
 doing this, we have been led to consider her 
 utility, not merely by reflecting the light of the 
 sun to illuminate the night, but by her influence 
 on die sea, causing the ebb and flow of the tides. 
 Now to understand this attraction, it is necessary 
 to consider some few propositions; which, as they 
 are laid down in this book with great brevity, 
 and on the supposition that a previous know- 
 ledge has been gained, which in my case has 
 never yet been attained, I must have recourse 
 to you, and request you to favour me with one 
 of your academical lectures to explain the phe- 
 nomenon. I was the more anxious clearly to 
 comprehend this subject, that I might show 
 Maria the two great purposes which this lumi- 
 nary answers as an attendant upon our earth ; 
 and having exhibited these, I would have gone 
 another step further, and deduced the conse- 
 quence that the myriads of stars which spangle 
 the heavens, if not intended exclusively for the 
 
 B 6 
 
12 THE PHILOSOPHICAL PAINTER. 
 
 benefit of this globe, are so many of the super- 
 fluous excrescences of creation which the Deity 
 has formed for his own pleasure, or for the 
 manifestation of his power." 
 
 " I am quite sure," said the Doctor, " that no 
 one can enter into the contemplation of these 
 things without being persuaded that God is the 
 maker of them all; but to limit the purposes of 
 creation to the supposition that they are for the 
 mere use of man, is too contracted a notion to be 
 entertained by any one who thinks seriously and 
 deeply upon the subject. You cannot doubt that 
 the planets are inhabited by intelligent beings, 
 who, if not formed as we are, are, nevertheless, 
 equally with us, objects of care of the same 
 Providence : nor can you deny that every fixed 
 star is the sun to a system like our own. Can 
 you, then, whilst surveying an universe extend- 
 ing on all sides from and to places that have 
 neither beginning nor ending, studded with 
 worlds and systems innumerable, suppose that 
 our globe, so trifling, so nearly, I had almost 
 said so much less than nothing, in the endless 
 ocean of infinity, is alone inhabited ? What says 
 the holy Psalmist, who even on this subject 
 ^ives us useful and profound information? — 
 
THE PHILOSOPHICAL PAINTER. 13 
 
 * When I consider thy heavens, the work of 
 thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou 
 hast ordained ; what is man that thou art mind- 
 ful of him, or the son of man, (insignificant as 
 his vices make him in the sight of a Supreme 
 Being,) that thou visitest him !' What is man ! 
 Why, certainly man is of more worth than all 
 the stars and all the heavens, if they are without 
 intelligent beings. One rational, living, and 
 immortal soul, is of infinitely greater value than 
 millions of worlds of inanimate, senseless, and 
 dead matter ; or than all the matter of the uni- 
 verse. And the supposition, that the universe 
 teeming with wonders is only meant to testify the 
 oannipotence of the Creator, is a notion alto- 
 gether vain and groundless. Do we not con- 
 stantly discover myriads of stars, those suns to 
 other systems, at such infinite distances from 
 us, as to make it impossible that they should 
 afford light to us when they are only dis- 
 cernible to our organs of sight, by means of 
 instruments which are constructed with diffi- 
 culty? And do we not find, that the more 
 perfect such instruments are, the more these 
 wondrous objects multiply, leaving us ground 
 to believe, and to know, that infinite space is 
 
14« THE PHILOSOPHICAL PAINTER. 
 
 filled with these glorious works — works, not 
 made for the gratification of the Creator, nor 
 for die mere service of man, but constituted by 
 almighty wisdom for great, but inscrutable pur- 
 poses ? Your notions, therefore, may be proved 
 erroneous by the common principles of philo- 
 sophy in the one case^ and by the Bible in the 
 other." 
 
 " Now this," said Maria, " precisely confirms 
 my former remark, that I am always deriving 
 information from your conversation. Dr. Free- 
 man ; and I must say you possess the happy 
 talent of first convincing the reason or removing 
 the prejudice, and then of bringing home the 
 argument by some such scriptural illustration 
 as puts the matter, in my opinion, entirely at 
 rest. I sincerely wish you could prevail upon 
 my father to blend religious knowledge with his 
 philosophy. That one, who constantly practises 
 so many virtues as he does from principles of 
 an innate benevolence, should be without a 
 knowledge of Christianity, is, to me, an endless 
 source of solicitude." 
 
 " My dear child," said Mr. Lorraine, " I 
 am aware that^ in my education much has been 
 omitted ; and I must also admit that the study 
 
« 
 
 THE PHILOSOPHICAL PAINTER; 15 
 
 of religion has, at no period of my life, foiined 
 a part of it, — I mean that system of religion 
 which the Bible maintains. My reading on this 
 subject has been much more extensive ; for I 
 have consulted the Book of Nature. Through- 
 out tlie whole of it I perceive the hand of a 
 divine Author : there I read his omnipotence, 
 his omniscience, and his other great and glorious 
 attributes — there I see his mercy and his love 
 abundantly displayed; and I am led to deduce 
 reasons for believing that he has placed us here 
 to be creatures of happiness ; that he has given 
 us a portion of his own aetherial spirit, that shall 
 outlive our mouldering frames in joy, if we 
 answer the purposes of our creation by living 
 here virtuously, by providing for those who are 
 bound to us by the ties of affection, by reheving 
 distress and soothing sorrow, and by transmit- 
 ting an honourable name to our posterity." 
 
 " Yes, my dear father," replied Maria ; " but 
 all this which you deduce from the works of 
 the creation is unintelligible to simple and un- 
 educated minds, who, though they may ac- 
 knowledge the wonders of the visible world, 
 can enter into no such lofjical deductions for 
 their rule of life : so that neither societv nor a 
 
16 THE PHILOSOPHICAL PAINTER. 
 
 government could exist without some general 
 form of religion. For which reason it is, as 
 Dr. Freeman will tell you, that something more 
 distinct and universal is necessary to be known; 
 which necessary knowledge is revealed by God 
 in our Scriptures. It is true that different men 
 interpret these differently; but though they dis- 
 pute about the doctrines and principles which 
 they inculcate, yet they who acknowledge them 
 at all agree in maintaining their truth, and the 
 necessity of an unfeigned faith in what they 
 aifirm. The Doctor invariably declares, that a 
 belief in the matters which the sacred volume 
 unfolds must be accompanied by a strict observ- 
 ance of all its commands, by such as look for 
 final salvation. Others will tell you that the 
 mere act of faith is all that is required; and 
 others, that unless die Holy Spirit makes choice 
 of you to draw you willingly or unwillingly to 
 seek after divine truths, you can never discover 
 tliem." 
 
 " My dear," said Mr. Lorraine, " it may be 
 all very well for you and others to preach up tlie 
 necessity of embracing that belief whicli you 
 think the Deity has demanded of you by his 
 Scrijjtures, as you call them, if your consciences 
 
THE PHILOSOPHICAL PAINTER. 17 
 
 assure you there is no other method of arriving 
 at future happiness ; but if conscience be your 
 guide, so let it be mine : my judgment is satis- 
 fied with what I know. I can see and feel my 
 own way without such a conductor as you would 
 give me ; and I shall rest contented, because I 
 am persuaded I shall never intentionally do 
 wrong or injury to any one." 
 
 " Then," said Dr. Freeman, " permit me to 
 observe, that such a religion is too selfish to be 
 entertained by a liberal, and certainly cannot be 
 supported by an enlightened mind ; for it is 
 de^r that you are honest because dishonesty 
 would subject you to disgrace in society; you 
 are good and virtuous because it is a matter of 
 convenience to be so ; you are just because you 
 are kept in awe by human laws ; and you are 
 cliaritable from the impulse of humanity ; but 
 how much nobler, how much more disinterested 
 and exalted is it to act thus, not from mere 
 worldly? sordid considerations, but out of entire 
 love of your Maker ? Knowing, as you may, 
 and as it is your duty to know, by reading tlie 
 Scriptures, it is both the will and the commami 
 of God that you should do all things to his 
 glory, how are you to show yourself his creature 
 
18 THE PHILOSOPHICAL PAINTER. 
 
 bound to do him service, unless you comply 
 with that will and that command ? As to what 
 some affirm, that a faith in the Saviour is alone 
 sufficient for salvation hereafter, if by faith be 
 meant only a bare belief in the Redeemer, it 
 constitutes, in my opinion, a small part of the 
 Christian's duty; and with respect to what others 
 declare, that some men are involuntarily drawn 
 to seek knowledge of the Spirit of God, depend 
 upon it, Mr. Lorraine, unless you yourself are 
 desirous of knowing divine truth, you can never 
 expect to acquire it. In short — " 
 
 '* Rut, my dear friend," interrnpted Mr. Lor- 
 raine, " if I look into the heavens, I see won- 
 ders demonstrating the existence of a Supreme 
 Being, that speak more powerfully to me tlian 
 any language that man can utter. When I con- 
 sider how this globe revolves daily on its axis, 
 exposed to the transition of day and night, sum- 
 mer and winter, I see the Deity showing his 
 goodness to all the kingdom.s of the earth. If I 
 consider the purposes of the rain and dew from 
 heaven, I find that they are to make the land 
 fruitful. If the wind blows, it is to create a freer 
 circulation of air, and to prevent the stagnation 
 of vapours. If the sun shines, it is to warm and 
 
THE PHILOSOPHICAL PAINTER. 19 
 
 clothe the ground with verdure, and to make 
 nature assume a cheerful aspect. In all this I 
 can fall into no mistakes, I can imbibe no per- 
 nicious errors : here the Deity speaks in terms 
 intelligible to all. What need, then, have I to 
 turn to any other system of religion less evident 
 tlian this ? Or, were I to have recourse to any 
 other, where are there to be found such convinc- 
 ing testimonies of the existence and power of the 
 Divinity ?" 
 
 " These testimonies, I affirm," replied Dr. 
 Freeman, " are more conspicuously displayed 
 in the page of Revelation than in the book of 
 nature, and carry you infinitely further ; for 
 when you have surveyed the wonders of creation, 
 and acknowledged the truth which they proclaim 
 that ' the hand which made them is divine,' 
 here your knowledge terminates ; and it termi- 
 nates unsatisfactorily, because you can gain no 
 insight into any thing beyond the present state. 
 All, therefore, beyond this temporary scene of 
 life is dark and uncertain : you see your species 
 daily mingling with the dust, without knowing 
 whither they are going, and what lies beyond 
 the confines of the grave. What assurances, 
 
20 THE PHILOSOPHICAL PAINTER. 
 
 then, have you for hoping to exist in another 
 and more perfect state ?" 
 
 " We have those," he replied, " which, if they 
 amount not to a positive certainty, approach 
 sufficiently near to it for every purpose : for we 
 have the same arguments that were maintained 
 by Plato, and by other philosophers who derived 
 their expectations from the same source. Nature 
 herself has implanted in the mind of man the 
 hope of a state of immortality : there is no 
 country of the globe ever yet discovered that 
 did not exhibit its people, however barbarous 
 and rude, possessed of some notions of a future 
 state of existence. Besides, is it possible to 
 suppose that {he Deity can have placed us here 
 only for a short time, and not unfrequently 
 exposed us to pass it in uninterrupted sorrow 
 and distress ; some tyrannizing and lording it 
 over mankind, others exposed to slavery and 
 continued wretchedness ; some constituted with 
 minds ample and capacious to imbibe know- 
 ledge ; others destitute of intellect. Is it pos- 
 sible to conceive such a state as this can be 
 permanent; and, if not permanent, we conclude 
 that it must lead to another, — to one that shall 
 
THE PHILOSOPHICAL PAIXTER. 21 
 
 be better than the former, or why change it 
 at all?" 
 
 " Excuse me, my dear father," said Maria, " all 
 this amounts only to what I have already said : 
 all this the Christian knows to be true, because 
 it is estabhshed by Scripture; which is the 
 ' Word of God,' the onlv means vouchsafed to 
 man for his guidance in these matters : for 
 though the deductions of reason may be clear 
 to you, they cannot, from their remoteness and 
 intricacy, be understood, much less be con- 
 vincing to ordinary and common capacities." 
 
 " The conclusions deduced from all the 
 reasoning in the world," resumed the Doctor, 
 " can never amount to a certainty, even in the 
 most cultivated and learned minds. We want 
 something infallible ; and that infallibility we 
 possess by means of our Bibles, in which there 
 is, as Locke has observed, ' truth without any 
 mixture of error.' Here we find for what pur- 
 pose man is created ; why he is designed to pass 
 a probationary trial ; and how, after the decay 
 of the body, the soul wings its flight to heaven ; 
 and upon what conditions it is either admitted 
 to the abodes of bliss, or doomed to regions of 
 sorrow and despair." 
 
22 THE PHILOSOPHICAL PAINTER. 
 
 " But I should be happy to know," said 
 Mr. Lorraine, " upon what authority you pro- 
 nounce that book to be of divine origin, and 
 upon what sort of evidence you can demonstrate 
 that it contains, as you declare it does, the 
 actual revelation of the will of God to man. 
 • Your assertion of that circumstance, without 
 satisfactory proof, though supported by the 
 whole college of divines, cannot alone be ad- 
 mitted." 
 
 " Now this, my dear Sir," said the Doctor, 
 " is the very point to which I am desirous of 
 bringing your attention. Before, therefore, we 
 enter upon the investigation of the causes by 
 which the influence of the moon operates upon 
 the tides, though a subject well deserving the 
 attention of every well-informed mind, let us 
 have recourse to the explanation of that which, 
 on every account, is so infinitely more im- 
 portant. The evidences which are adduced in 
 support of the divine inspiration of our Scrip- 
 tures, if canvassed by one divested of all pre- 
 judices, are numerous and abundantly con- 
 clusive. Now, I think, from your own train of 
 argument, Mr. Lorraine, I shall be able to give 
 you some reasons why we should accept the 
 
THE PHILOSOPHICAL PAINTER. 23 
 
 Bible, not only as a rule of life, but as the Word 
 of God. To say nothing of its undoubted 
 antiquity as a history, it contains a more clear 
 and luminous account of the various origin and 
 fortunes of the earlier nations of the world, 
 than any records of even the most polished 
 people : an account that is sanctioned, either 
 directly or indirectly, by the substantial annals 
 of kingdoms, however widely distant from each 
 other ; but which is as superior to them in 
 dignity, correctness, and sublimity, as the sun, 
 your favourite object of admiration, transcends 
 the minor gems of heaven in brilliancy and 
 power." 
 
 " But," interrupted Mr. Lorraine, " grant- 
 ing that as a history it is a valuable production, 
 this by no means proves it to be the gift of 
 heaven." 
 
 " To your observation J bow assent," said the 
 Doctor, " on this condition, that if it be outborne 
 by more positive evidence, you will allow it to 
 be admitted as a collateral proof." 
 
 " To this I cannot object, knowing that you 
 will in vain look for the positive evidence you 
 speak of," replied Mr. Lorraine. 
 
 " But," answered the Doctor, " I do not 
 
2^ THE PHILOSOPHICAL PAINTER. 
 
 despair of producing it; for, laying aside the 
 evidence of miracles, which you will assuredly 
 question, I will take you to that part of the 
 Sacred Volume upon which the sun of the 
 astronomical world, the all-comprehending yet 
 humble Newton, bestowed his critical labour, 
 and thereby gave an unqualified assent to its 
 doctrines. The evidence of prophecies, — of 
 which some have been fulfilled in so plain a 
 manner that * they who run may read ;* others 
 are now accomplishing ; and others yet remain 
 to be unravelled, — must flash conviction upon 
 the minds of all who are not obstinately bent 
 upon shutting their eyes against the evidence 
 of all light. You grant that as a history it is 
 very ancient: now, the prophetical part is so 
 blended with the historical, as to render the 
 forgery of it in latter times quite impracticable. 
 The prophecies, therefore, must have been 
 delivered, if not at the time they are repre- 
 sented, at least many centuries ago. Now, this 
 being admitted, it cannot be denied that many 
 of the prophecies have been accomplished in 
 latter times, and that some are at this moment 
 in the act of being carried into effect. I would 
 ask where, in all the brilliant literature of ancient 
 
THE PHILOSOPHICAL PAINTER. 25 
 
 Greece or Rome, can any thing be culled 
 out, even after the most diligent search, whicli 
 can bear any comparison to this, however 
 graced with the charms of language or the 
 attractions of rhetorical ornament? And what 
 do you suppose could cause this difference ? 
 How happens it that unfriended Herdsmen, 
 poor Shepherds, and unlettered Hebrews, were 
 enabled to clothe their sentiments in such 
 sublimity of diction, and utter prophecies that 
 are fully borne out by events ? How comes 
 this, Mr. Lorraine ? Spite of yourself you 
 must acknowledge, that, at least, ' this is 
 marvellous in our eyes.' But stop not here : 
 go one step further, and your unsophisticated 
 reason and conscience must soon aver, ' that 
 it is the Lord's doing;' for if you consider 
 what it is for the mind of man to dive into 
 futurity, and see through the perspective of 
 2000 years, you will readily, and of necessity 
 conclude, that either the account of the pro- 
 phecies is false, — which cannot even be remotely 
 questioned, as they, like many other parts of 
 Holy Writ, are substantiated by the evidence 
 of other, even hostile nations, — or that it was 
 from the suggestion of some superior power 
 
 VOL. I. C 
 
26 THE PHILOSOPHICAL PAINTER. 
 
 operating within, ' to whom a thousand years 
 are but as yesterday.' Do not, therefore, my 
 friend, reject, for the vain conclusions of pre- 
 sumptuous men, the page which bears inscribed 
 the fiery finger of God. No longer attach 
 yourself to the principles of Voltaire, Hume, 
 and other sceptics, many of whose names are 
 associated with every thing vile and unseemly ; 
 but become a faithful and humble follower in that 
 glorious army of Christian worthies, — Bacon, 
 Newton, Locke, and all those whose names are 
 but another vocabulary of every thing pious, 
 just, and virtuous. Embrace, therefore, this 
 faith, which not only has been the only solace 
 and support allowed to many thousands whose 
 deaths have been exposed to every indignity, 
 but also has healed the anguished heart of those 
 who have been bereft of all that to them were 
 dear and lovely upon earth. The sublime, yet 
 humble feelings, which the Book of God can 
 give, even to the most abject upon earth, are 
 standing miracles and incontrovertible proofs of 
 its divine origin : a book from which those 
 pretended discoveries of heathen philosophers 
 approximating to the sublime doctrines of 
 Revelation have, assuredly, been derived. Un- 
 
THE PHILOSOPHICAL PAINTER. 27 
 
 assisted reason ne^-er deduced such doctrines 
 from natural religion, as it is said to have 
 produced in the enlightened minds of pagan 
 sages. Socrates, Plato, Juvenal, and others, 
 borrowed their most exalted notions of the 
 Deity, and of moral goodness, from some 
 transcript of the Jewish Scriptures ; from which 
 source, also, though in a different channel, it 
 is quite clear that Virgil obtained the materials 
 for the fabric of his sacred eclogue, predicting, in 
 the very language of our evangelical prophet, 
 the birth of Pollio's child (which prediction 
 was never verified) in the golden age of the 
 world : and with respect to those heathen philo- 
 sophers, whose works may be dated from the 
 commencement of the Christian aera, their mo- 
 rality evidently falls upon us in the reflected 
 rays of the Gospel itself" 
 
 At this moment a servant entered with a 
 letter, addressed to Mr. Lorraine: it was no 
 sooner opened than it fell from his hands ; whilst 
 the sudden and livid change of his countenance 
 indicated tidings of fearful import. Maria flew 
 to the immediate assistance of her father, who 
 was now speechless ; and though agitated al- 
 most beyond endurance, she exerted all the 
 
 c 2 
 
28 THE PHILOSOPHICAL PAINTER. 
 
 self-command which she could summon, and 
 administered the remedies which those around 
 her suggested. In the mean time, Dr. Free- 
 man, catching up the letter, found it written by 
 the college tutor, briefly communicating the sad 
 intelligence of young Lorraine's sudden death. 
 
 As soon as the father began to recover, he 
 looked earnestly and piercingly at his daughter ; 
 and then throwing his arms around her, pite- 
 ously exclaimed, " You — you, are now my only 
 remaining comfort !" and he burst into an 
 agony of grief. Hardly had he uttered the 
 words, when Maria, catching the intelligence 
 with the rapidity of lightning, fell senseless at 
 her father's feet. It was some time before she 
 recovered ; but as her opening eyes surveyed 
 those by whom she was surrounded, she at 
 length fixed them upon her father, who sat 
 stupified with grief. Seeing his bitter despon- 
 dency, she presently roused herself; and dis- 
 missing the assistants, turned to the Doctor, 
 saying, 
 
 " My dear Sir, assist me to support my 
 father in this heart-rending afflicjion, — assist 
 me in offering such reflections as, by God's 
 help, may tranquillize and comfort his mind." 
 
THE PHILOSOPHICAL PAINTER. 29 
 
 *' My dear Miss Lorraine," replied the 
 Doctor, " in the first ebulHtion of such sorrow 
 05 this, it is in vain to offer immediate comfort. 
 The mind, on the first accession of anguish, will 
 not admit, nay, it will almost reject, all con- 
 solation : it must vent itself in the way that 
 Nature dictates ; and it is not only wise to per- 
 mit it to do so, but the object of the Almighty 
 in sending affliction is better answered, — that 
 by suffering it to depress the mind, it may more 
 effectually operate to wean us from our sins, to 
 exercise our faith, to show us our dependance 
 upon God, take off our attachments to this 
 world, and make us aspire after one that is 
 above ; and thus, ' though the countenance be 
 made sad, the heart is made better.' " 
 
 " As far as respects myself," replied Maria, 
 " I am persuaded to hope that all these effects 
 which you have enumerated will result fi'om this 
 heavy dispensation of Providence. Keen as my 
 grief is, I feel assured that, however weakened 
 my body may be, my mind ultimately will be 
 strengthened. Strongly do I see the necessity 
 of bearmg up against this great, this unex- 
 pected sorrow, and making unusual exertions, 
 that I may revive the broken heart, and solace 
 the afflicted mind of my poor, suffering, and 
 
 c 3 
 
30 THE PHILOSOPHICAL PAINTER. 
 
 distracted father ; that we may both feel less the 
 loss which we now so deeply deplore. Religion 
 calls, it imperiously demands of me to perform 
 this duty ; and it gives me the consolatory as- 
 surance that it will fortify my mind against all 
 my own feelings : that by rising superior to my 
 own distresses, I may be better enabled to 
 comfort his days, and so make life desirable to 
 the dearest, the best of fathers ; to him who has 
 no such source from which he can derive a 
 balm to heal his wound — who has yet to learn 
 the efficacy of that gracious dispensation, by 
 which in due time ^ every tear is wiped off every 
 eye ;' to him, who knows not that his sorrow 
 may be converted into joy — who is not as- 
 sured, like the pious David, that he can go 
 whither his son is gone before ; to that son 
 who, however we may grieve for his loss, would 
 unwillingly change perfect and eternal bliss for 
 imperfect, temporary, and visionary happiness. 
 Alas ! alas ! my father's agony must be dread- 
 ful : for he has no such alleviation as our reli- 
 gion affords its followers : — he has nothing that 
 can extract the sting which death inflicts." 
 And she fell upon her father's neck in excess of 
 affectionate tenderness. 
 
THE PHILOSOPHICAL PAINTER. 31 
 
 " My dearest, my beloved daughter," said 
 Lorraine, as he raised her, while he wiped away 
 his tears, " surely God has given ycu to be a 
 ministering angel to bring me to his presence. 
 If Christianity, my dear girl, as our friend was 
 so feelingly going on to assert, can afford such 
 relief in these bitter necessities, as your , pre- 
 sent conduct proves may be derived from it; 
 if it can brinor such soothino^ reflections as 
 you deduce from it ; if it can impress courage 
 on one, otherwise so timid and alive to fear, 
 while the want of it enervates the strong and 
 hardy ; if it can make you trample upon your 
 own sufferings, that you may more efficiently 
 discharge your duties to a frail and ungodly 
 parent like myself — what is there that I can 
 more ardently desire than to participate in these 
 benefits with yourself? Lead me, therefore, 
 my beloved child, to this great and pure foun- 
 tain of happiness, that I may drink, deeply 
 drink, of its waters. My good friend here 
 must assist me, (and I know he will,) to com- 
 plete that change of sentiment which his reason- 
 ing had already begun to excite in me, ere the 
 severe, yet merciful dispensation of Providence, 
 taught me that it was my duty to strive to 
 
 c 4. 
 
32 THE PHILOSOPHICAL PAINTER. 
 
 acquire that religious wisdom which guides him 
 in his useful passage through life. Oh, show 
 me, my friend, the path which leads to another 
 world ; and give me, from it, a prospect of its 
 transcendent glories : for with Maria, now my 
 sole companion, I will endeavour to pursue it. 
 From this time I renounce Nature as my guide : 
 henceforth I will seek the conduct of one 
 infallible !" So saying, he hurried out of the 
 room. 
 
 " I have now to contend," said Maria, 
 " with feelings directly opposite to each other, 
 — grief for the heavy affliction that has befallen 
 US, and joy that it should have produced such a 
 happy, such an unlooked-for, effect as this." 
 
 " Ah, my dear Miss Lorraine," said the 
 Doctor, " this is only one instance out of innu- 
 merable others in which I have witnessed the 
 mercy of the Almighty, who, out of evil, knows 
 how to produce good. Do you continue to 
 strive to alleviate your own and your father's 
 sufferings, and to follow up these impressions 
 which have been made upon his mind. I shall 
 set out at a very early hour to-morrow morning 
 for the University, and I will there stand in the 
 place of your father. — God bless you !" 
 
33 
 
 THE MERCHANT'S FAMILY. 
 
 Dr. Freeman was sitting in his library at 
 breakfast, grappling with a learned author upon 
 the knotty subject of some profound piece of 
 theology, when he was roused from his abstrac- 
 tion by a rap at his door, and by the entrance 
 of his friend Mr. Trustwell, a merchant. 
 
 " If you are not particularly engaged, Doc- 
 tor," said he, " I am desirous of having a little 
 conversation with you. I want to ask your ad- 
 vice upon something that materially interests 
 me; and I apply to you with confiderice, be- 
 cause it is a matter in which you have already 
 rendered me essential service. You know very 
 well that my two sons, Alexander and Vincent, 
 were destined by me, the one for my own busi- 
 ness, the other for a sailor ; but in consequence 
 of Vincent's delicate state of health, I have 
 been compelled to alter my original intentions 
 respecting him ; and, through your recommend- 
 ation, I have given both him and his brother an 
 academical education, before I left them at 
 liberty to make choice of a profession. Yester-» 
 
 c 5 
 
34 THE merchant's family. 
 
 day, upon their return home after having taken 
 their degrees, we entered upon the subject; and 
 it led to a long discussion, the result of which 
 was, that Alexander has given the preference, 
 as I hoped he would, to the offer I have made 
 him of taking him into our firm ; but Vincent 
 has formed the resolution of entering the 
 Church. Now, I think, for one whose general 
 health is not very good, the retired duties of a 
 clergyman are those which are peculiarly suit- 
 able to him ; but, unfortunately, he has taken 
 what I consider to be an unhappy twist in his 
 opinions, and I am altogether at a loss to know 
 what to do, whether to comply with his in- 
 clinations or not. If I yield to them, I am 
 giving a direct sanction to the propagation of 
 principles which I directly disapprove : if I do 
 not accede to them, I am equally unable to de- 
 termine what to do ; for his health will not ad- 
 mit of an active line of life, and his mind will 
 probably not incline to it." 
 
 " But," replied Dr. Freeman, " what gi'ounds 
 have you for thinking that he entertains the pe- 
 culiar sentiments to which you allude ?" 
 
 " Why, Alexander has given us a detailed 
 account of their general proceedings during their 
 
THE MERCHANTS FAxMILY. 35 
 
 residence at College. Indeed we ourselves have 
 observed, from the time they entered the Uni- 
 versity, that Vincent has returned to us with 
 depressed spirits, and with a sombreness that 
 became more settled every time we met toge- 
 ther. This his mother and I attributed to 
 bodily weakness, and therefore overlooked it, 
 not suspecting that it arose from a different 
 cause. Alexander confesses that he considered 
 these symptoms as sufficient to arrest our 
 attention ; and, therefore, through delicacy and 
 a sort of sense of honour, left us to find them out, 
 without bearmg an unwilling testimony against 
 his brother. He tells us, with respect to him- 
 self, that in the very outset he made a selection 
 of a few friends among young men w4io, for the 
 greater part, were students of his own College ,* 
 and that he adhered to them throughout the 
 whole time of his residence. He says they all 
 devoted certain stated hours to their studies 
 during the day, and in the evening usually as- 
 sembled together in one of their rooms, and 
 rationally enjoyed themselves. He did not find 
 it convenient to extend his acquaintance far be- 
 yond what might almost be called this domestic 
 circle : for as it was only the evening that 
 
 c 6 
 
36 THE merchant's family. 
 
 was thus dedicated to lighter studies and re- 
 laxation, it suited best their inclinations and 
 pockets to send tiach his commons from the 
 College kitchen to some one of their rooms : by 
 which arrangement they amused themselves 
 with the new publications of the day, with 
 music, chess, and occasionally with a rubber, 
 without having recourse to seek a late admit- 
 tance to their apartments, after the closing of 
 the gates. He also says, for he is very candid, 
 that they not unfrequently rehearsed feats of 
 activity and wonder, gymnastics which were 
 seldom practised without some detriment to the 
 fragile furniture of the apartment. Indeed he 
 admits, with respect to his owti, that a large 
 oaken bootjack, a little burnt at one end, is the 
 most entire article left to be transmitted to his 
 successor. Well, notwithstanding this, it was 
 his practice to devote every Sunday to religious 
 duties and studies, the evening of which was 
 dedicated by his party to conversations gene- 
 rally upon the subjects of the sermons delivered 
 at the University church ; which gave rise to 
 criticisms and reflections, that, in my opinion, 
 have paved the way to a sound and rational 
 knowledge o^ Religion. I do not mean that 
 
THE MERCHANTS FAMILY. S7 
 
 their religious conversations were confined solely 
 to one day in seven : on the contrary, I am in- 
 clined to believe, that even in the midst of their 
 recreations they never lost sight of God : and 
 this effectually served to keep them within 
 proper bounds. It seems that he and his 
 friends have passed excellent examinations, and 
 that they have marked their characters by 
 the honours which they have attained ; and I 
 am more than satisfied with him. Now it is sin- 
 gular that Vincent, during all this time, has asso- 
 ciated as little with his brother as if they had 
 been unconnected; and the society which he 
 formed has been altogether different. He has 
 been admitted to his degree with ease to himself, 
 but without the attainment, or even the wish of 
 obtaining any academical honour : his time has 
 been passed almost exclusively in religious 
 reading, with the Bible, and with commentators 
 whom I know you do not consider orthodox. 
 He has allowed himself to think upon no other 
 subject; he has joined in no other kind of con- 
 versation ; he has been running after what he 
 calls ' serious men and Gospel-preachers;' he 
 has patronised Evangelical Societies and Works, 
 and seems to have compassed sea and land to 
 make proselytes of the Jews. After the Col- 
 
38 THE MERCHANTS FAMILY. 
 
 lege lectures of the day were over, he was to be 
 found, not seeking instruction for himself in the 
 public schools of the University, but teaching 
 ' the young idea how to shoot' in those esta- 
 blished by serious societies. His evenings were 
 passed in the assemblies of those who denomin- 
 ated themselves ' Elect ;' at which it was usual 
 not only to furnish the guests with tea, but to 
 serve each at the same time with a Bible, that 
 all in their turn might give vent to that wild 
 and fanciful spirit of apostolical exposition, 
 with which they considered themselves inspired. 
 Alexander says, that the members of this grave 
 body were great dealers in mystery ; that each 
 of them had a separate, but clear interpretation 
 of the Song of Solomon ; could unravel the ar- 
 cana of the Apocalypse, compute the number 
 of the Beast, and calculate to a decimal, the 
 time of the Millennium. They possessed, more- 
 over, the means and power of explaining the 
 articles of the Church, upon the exclusive prin- 
 ciples of Calvin. It is in this manner, and in 
 such a Sanhedrim, that Vincent has passed his 
 time : and he is returned in the condition of one 
 who seems unfitted for the world. He is be- 
 come thoughtful and absent, grave and demure, 
 with a countenance that bespeaks a bewildered 
 
THE merchant's FAMILY. 39 
 
 fancy and an unhealthy body. He occasionally 
 assumes a playfulness, but it is too studied and 
 unnatural to be mistaken for any thing but what 
 it is. Now, under these circumstances, what is 
 best for me to do ? If I keep him at home, he 
 will pursue no useful employment; and if I send 
 him to a Curacy, he will only be making others 
 as unhappy as himself, or rather as he has 
 made me." 
 
 " My dear Sir," said Dr. Freeman, " do 
 not make yourself uneasy at present; but, take 
 my advice, do not thwart his inclinations at 
 once; or, such is the perverseness of our nature, 
 you will drive him into the very toils that you 
 wish him to avoid. Whatever means, there- 
 fore, you apply, let them be gentle and per- 
 suasive; use no compulsion. You can have no 
 fear that your family will imbibe any other 
 sentiments than those which you approve. 
 Alexander's are fixed ; and for your daughter 
 Elizabeth, her mother has taken too much pains 
 with her education, and her owti intelligent and 
 amiable mind is such as to mr.ke all appre- 
 hension of her defection, idle. No ; keep Vin- 
 cent at home with vou as much as vou can : 
 by seeing your united disinchnation to favour 
 the tenets which he has taken up, and by 
 
40 THE merchant's FAMILY. 
 
 rationally and dispassionately conversing with 
 him upon the tendency of them, you may, in 
 time, effect an alteration in his mind. If, after 
 all, you should fail in your attempt, and he 
 continue in the same opinions, not from ob- 
 stinacy, but from conviction, then set it down 
 as a certainty that his reason and conscience 
 have formed the bias ; and, as you would wish 
 to be done by, leave him to follow the bent of 
 his own inclination." 
 
 "Well, Doctor," replied Mr. Trustwell, " that 
 is fair and right. I will do so; and am happy to 
 be guided by your advice, and heartily I thank 
 you for it. I shall return and make my wife 
 and daughter happier by my determination ; for 
 they are wretched both on Vincent's account 
 and on mine. I wish I could prevail upon you 
 to do us the favour of dining with us to-day, 
 and of meeting these young men; indeed, I 
 shall feel obliged if you will not refuse me. 
 You will meet my sister, who is now on a visit 
 to us with her husband, who are in the literal 
 sense of the word, lately married ; for they have 
 both been long since past the hey-day of youth." 
 " My good friend," replied the Doctor, " I 
 shall be happy to accept your invitation, and to 
 talk with you further on the subject of your 
 
THE merchant's FAMILY. 41 
 
 sons." Upon this they shook hands and 
 parted. 
 
 When the dinner-hour arrived, the Doctor 
 found the party assembled. After he had ad- 
 dressed Mrs. Trustwell and her daughter, his 
 kind host, taking him by the hand, introduced 
 him in form to Mr. and Mrs." Griper, both of 
 whom returned the salutation with the most grave 
 decorum. There was the struggle of a smile 
 evidently visible on the lips of Alexander, as he 
 watched this august ceremony, and kept up 
 with his eyes a kind of telegraphic communi- 
 cation with his sister ; it required, indeed, some 
 command of countenance to stand this inter- 
 view. The bride had, by many degrees, passed 
 the meridian of hfe, and time had set his envious 
 mark upon her. She was " gaunt, lean, ossified, 
 and long;" her face narrow, and striped with 
 wrinkles, over which was suspended a nose which 
 might have acted as a gnomon to the dial from 
 which it projected. Her reading had, in earlier 
 life, — that is, until she had relinquished the 
 hopes of promotion, and had actually taken out 
 the brevet-rank of Mrs. to her maiden name, — 
 been confined to trifling subjects, romances, and 
 tales of slighted love. She had formerly been 
 able to play upon the Virginals, which she now 
 
42 THE merchant's- family. 
 
 dignified by the name of the Piano ; and even 
 till very lately, in the society of those of her 
 own standing, she occasionally ventured to 
 breathe an asthmatic air of " olden times." 
 Her dress suited with her years and her new 
 situation. It consisted of a fabric raised upon 
 her head, formed by making every hair to 
 stand as it would on the glass-legged stool of 
 an electrifying apparatus, surmounted by a 
 cushion, placed thereon to imbibe the long wire- 
 pins to which the cap was appended. Her 
 waist was long and tapering, to which was 
 fastened a silver- washed tin cornucopia, there 
 placed for the reception of a large bouquet, 
 which seemed to have been the produce of the 
 kitchen, rather than of the flower, garden. Her 
 gown was a rich grogram, so thick, that whe- 
 ther in wear or not, it pertinaciously kept its 
 erect position, and when moved, made that 
 strong rustling noise which rendered it unne- 
 cessary upon visits of ceremony to announce 
 her approach. When erect, her stature was 
 assisted in its towering height by the aid of two 
 props to the heels of her shoes : two stunted 
 columns of the Tuscan order, which preserved 
 a false perpendicular, by reason of the unequal 
 pressure above. She seemed to possess only 
 
THE merchant's FAMILY. 4:3 
 
 one advantage over her brother, and that was, in 
 having had greater experience from a longer resi- 
 dence upon earth. She was occasionally cheerful; 
 but the disposition was checked whenever she 
 turned her eye upon Mr. Griper, who maintained 
 the most obstinate and inflexible gravity. 
 
 He was a very tall, thin man, with a long, 
 yellow face and sharp visage : his long matted 
 hair, impelled by its own weight, hung straight 
 downwards; while a narrow cravat displayed 
 a neck brown and folded, like the leather of 
 a pair of bellows. He wore a long, straight- 
 cut chocolate-coloured coat without a collar, 
 but with pockets large enough to answer all 
 the purj30ses of a wardrobe ; he had flaps to 
 his waistcoat; thick black worsted stockings, 
 covering a pair of long legs of equal thickness 
 every-where, and planted in a pair of shoes ex- 
 travagantly capacious, ornamented by square sil- 
 ver buckles, corresponding with those appended 
 to his breeches-knees. Such was the worthy 
 Mr. Griper, who had entered into the pale of 
 matrimony, not only that he might ensure a 
 handsome provision for his declining years, but 
 be relieved from the irksome drudgery of busi- 
 ness ; and, by this means, be enabled to devote 
 
44- THE merchant's family. 
 
 more of his time to the employment of religion, 
 and secure to himself a patient companion dis- 
 posed to swallow the doses of religious rhap- 
 sody, in which he was a wholesale dealer. 
 
 When dinner was announced, Mr. Trustwell 
 stepped forward to offer his arm to the bride ; 
 who, casting a smerk of approbation upon him, 
 and another of encouragement transversely upon 
 Mr. Griper, stepped forward, whilst the rest of 
 the party followed in couples, at an awful distance 
 behind them, to admit sufficient space for the 
 trail of Mrs. Griper's gown; which, in perform- 
 ing the part of a besom sweeping the staircase, 
 was accompanied by a rustling noise, resembling 
 a shower of hail in a thunder-storm upon the 
 stage. 
 
 The conversation at table was general and 
 animated, supported as it was by the host and 
 hostess, Miss Trustwell, her brother Alexander, 
 and the Doctor; while Vincent and Mr. Griper 
 seemed waiting in reserve, ready only to explode 
 when a spark of religious kindling should ignite 
 them. The bridegroom, however, was too ac- 
 tively engaged in answering the demands of a 
 voracious appetite, to waste the little time which 
 he seemed to think would be allotted to his re- 
 
THE merchant's FAMILY. 45 
 
 past ; for though his body, from the length and 
 thinness of it, appeared ill-adapted to the recep- 
 tion of much food, it was astonishing to see with 
 what dexterity and perseverance he endeavoured 
 to obtain a rotundity of form, and how success- 
 fully he washed down with deep but weak po- 
 tations, the obstructions which were heaped on 
 the turnpike leading from his jaws to the lower 
 regions of his body. In all this he was the di- 
 rect reverse of his bride, who kept nibbling at 
 the breast of a chicken, occasionally sipping 
 from a thimblefril of wine, which she as deli- 
 cately touched with the parchment of her lips, 
 as if she apprehended their coming in contact 
 with aquafortis. 
 
 After the cloth was removed, the whole party 
 assembled around the fire ; and for some time 
 the conversation became general, and conti- 
 nued so. 
 
 " Pray, Dr. Freeman," said Mrs. Trustwell, 
 " can you tell me any thing of the Lorraines 
 to-day ^ I have not seen them since their great 
 domestic affliction." 
 
 " I saw them for a short time," replied the 
 Doctor, " this morning : they are, as you may 
 
46 THE merchant's family. 
 
 suppose, in great distress of mind ; but they 
 evince a calmness which gives me hope that 
 time will gradually lessen their sorrow." 
 
 " I received a note from Maria to-day," con- 
 tinued Elizabeth, " in which she expressed, in 
 the strongest terms, the satisfaction they de- 
 rived fi'om Alexander's and Vincent's attention 
 in attending you, Doctor, at her brother's fune- 
 ral. Poor Maria ! she feels keenly Charles's 
 loss ; but I believe she endeavours to hide 
 much of her feelings from her father, that she 
 may better comfort him, — she is a sweet girl. 
 Pray, Alexander, were not Charles Lorraine's 
 acquaintances much grieved at his fatal ac- 
 cident ?" 
 
 " Indeed," replied Alexander, " the whole 
 College testified sorrow ; for he was a great fa- 
 vourite, and both very clever and very amiable." 
 
 " Ah !" said Vincent; " and had he been more 
 serious, he would have been almost perfect." 
 
 " As to his not being more serious," replied 
 Alexander, " I will undertake to say that the 
 University cannot produce one who was more 
 sincerely virtuous and good, and this he was on 
 pure religious principles. In my opinion he 
 
THE merchant's FAMILY. 47 
 
 could have done nothinfj to make himself more 
 beloved than he was." 
 
 ** Mr. Alexander," said Griper, " though 3'ou 
 have been educated at the same seat of learning 
 with your brother, you have not been brought 
 up at the feet of the same Gamaliel. I have 
 heard of his early entrance into the Christian 
 vineyard : he, I find, has been a worshipper in 
 the true temple of Jerusalem, while you have 
 congregated in that on Mount Gerizim." 
 
 " Such, Sir," said Alexander, kindling into a 
 blaze, " such. Sir, may be the prejudiced opinion 
 entertained by some people ; but I beg to qi^es- 
 tion their authority for keeping themselves in 
 the Holy City, whilst they endeavour to drive 
 me and such as my poor friend Lorraine into 
 the country of the Samaritans ; and I am at a 
 loss to understand what motives any stranger can 
 
 have for enterino- into matters with which he can 
 
 o 
 
 have no possible pretext for interfering." 
 
 " It is the duty," replied Mr. Griper, " of 
 
 every pious disciple of Jesus to reclaim the 
 
 errors of youth, and to lead them mto the way 
 
 of life." 
 
 " Come, come," said Dr. Freeman, " I am 
 
 not disposed, Mr. Griper, to part with any of 
 
48 THE merchant's family. 
 
 my flock, especially with those who have been 
 born in the fold, and I shall resist every attempt 
 that may be made to seduce any of them from 
 me. I apprehend there has been a little tam- 
 pering with my friend Vincent in another quar- 
 ter; but I shall not patiently submit to losing 
 him ; at least I shall use all my power to pre- 
 vent secession, aided by the authority of my 
 good friend and host here." 
 
 " Doctor," said Mr. Trustwell, " I thank you 
 for the care of us all. On this subject I have 
 only one wish, that all my children may be as- 
 sured I consider their duty and their love to me 
 best shown by following the example which 
 their mother and I have endeavoured to give 
 them, in the support of those religious principles 
 in which, from a thorough conviction, we have 
 lived, and hope to die. — But we will change the 
 subject. — • Pray, Mr. Griper, inform me, as 
 nearly as you can, what may be the probable 
 number of souls in the parish in which you re- 
 side, that I may make a comparison between 
 tliat and ours, of their relative magnitude, and 
 of the late increase of population ?" 
 
 " As to the number of souls," replied Mr. 
 Griper, turning up to the ceiling his eyes, which 
 
THE merchant's FAMILY. 49 
 
 resembled two fresh-opened oysters, " of souls, 
 Sir; the Lord only knows, of such as be living 
 or shall hereafter live ; but of bodies — of cor- 
 poreal beings — human carcases — filthy rags — 
 there may be about 50,000 : and when I look 
 upon the harvest, and think how few are the reap- 
 ers (looking askance at Vincent), I am grieved 
 in the spirit." At these words he heaved a 
 deep-drawn sigh, after which his visage relapsed 
 into its usual map-like appearance. 
 
 Mrs. Griper now made several enquiries after 
 her former acquaintances, and, having received 
 satisfactory answers, seemed disposed to retu*e ; 
 which Mrs. Trustwell perceiving, began to draw 
 on her gloves, being the first signal for depart- 
 ure ; then taking a surveying look at the bride 
 and Ehzabeth, and bowing to the former, arose 
 and left the room. 
 
 When the ladies were gone, Mr. Trustwell 
 passed the bottle around, and catching Mr. 
 Griper's eye, he said, " Mr. Griper, as we are 
 here entirely among friends, permit me candidly 
 to state to you, that as I have now the pleasure 
 of considering you in the light of a connection, 
 in order that we may maintain a perfectly good 
 understanding, I must make it a condition, that 
 
 VOL. I. D 
 
50 THE merchant's FAMILY. 
 
 yoO will abstain from any attempt to inculcate 
 in my family any of those peculiar religious 
 tenets which I know you to entertain in common 
 with my sister, who has lately embraced them. 
 Of course, you and every one are at perfect 
 liberty to support any creed which you consider 
 to be the best; but as our principles are, for the 
 most part, settled and confirmed, I must oj^pose 
 every overture made to disturb them : I can- 
 not express to you what great and unfeigned 
 anxiety the defection which Vincent has ex- 
 hibited occasions me; but I have yet to hope, 
 that his consciousness of my distress may operate 
 upon him to think differently from what he now 
 does; at all events, I trust he will canvass the 
 matter with the seriousness which it deserves, 
 with fairness, candour, and without prejudice, 
 before he ultimately embraces principles that 
 are opposite to those which I have endeavoured 
 to implant in him." 
 
 " It cannot be expected. Sir," said Vincent, 
 " that I can alter or square my religious senti- 
 ments to suit the opinions of any one who may 
 be so unreasonable as to require it. I have 
 long ago considered the matter, and my con- 
 science approves the choice which I have made. 
 
THE MERCHANTS FAMILY. 51 
 
 The duty we owe to a heavenly, takes place of 
 that due to an earthly parent." 
 
 " Permit me, however, Vincent, to remark," 
 said Dr. Freeman, " that lately you have been 
 exposed to the partial views and reasoning of 
 one peculiar description of Christians ; take 
 now a more general survey, and let me urge 
 you to weigh well the pretensions of every other 
 persuasion, and when your mind is more ma- 
 tured, make your decision, and abide by it." 
 
 " Brother Trustwell," said Griper, " with 
 earnestness, " I can have no wish to set a son 
 against his father, nor to divide a man's house- 
 hold, unless it be in the high cause of God ; 
 in which case I hold that a man may leave his 
 father and mother. Still, as you speak fairly, 
 and you seem not disposed to enforce restraint 
 upon Mr. Vincent's inclinations, I shall abstain 
 from direct interference; nevertheless, I shall 
 wrestle \\ith the Lord in prayer, that he may 
 receive the inward light to guide him unerringly 
 in his choice." 
 
 " Believe me, Mr. Griper," said the Doctor, 
 " I think you do well to accept my friend Mr. 
 Trustwell's conditions, which are none other than 
 he is justified by his duty as a father to impose. 
 
 D 2 
 
52 THE merchant's family. 
 
 As to the pretext you or any other may have for 
 such an interference, on the ground that you 
 are acting thus in the cause of God, I know 
 of no sanction which the Scriptures give, why 
 you, or any one should sow dissension in a fami- 
 ly; nor will I admit that the Almighty requires 
 a duty to be paid to him at the expense of that 
 which he has imposed on a child and its parent. 
 The first table of commandments enforces love 
 to God; the second, love to parents and to man- 
 kind : to suppose, therefore, that a breach of 
 the latter can render a discharge of the former 
 more acceptable, is palpably wrong." 
 
 " But," resumed Griper, " you must admit 
 that the effect of the preaching of Jesus and his 
 Apostles, in many instances, produced, as was 
 pi'edicted, a ' sword instead of peace ;' and ' a 
 man's foes were those of his own household;' 
 and that it set parents at variance with their 
 children, and children with their parents." 
 
 " If such was the effect in many instances," 
 continued the Doctor, " produced among the 
 Jews, you are to remember that they were pecu- 
 liarly circumstanced. The Jews had rejected 
 him, at whose coming and preaching their 
 Prophets had expressly pointed, and whom it 
 
THE MERCHANTS FAMILY. S3 
 
 was actually their religious duty to have ac- 
 cepted. As, therefore, God's dispensations 
 were not to be subverted by the obstinacy of his 
 creatures, it followed as a natural and unavoid- 
 able consequence, that they who received the 
 Messiah and his Gospel, and they who denied 
 them, though persons connected by the strongest 
 ties of relationship, became directly opposed to 
 each other. The conduct of the Apostles in 
 this, as well as in many other cases, was di- 
 rected by a necessity which cannot apply to us 
 in these days. It is on this point in which I 
 more particularly differ with the teachers of your 
 persuasion, Mr, Griper, who, I think, assume 
 a language and a conduct suitable enough to 
 an inspired Apostle occupied in the first pro- 
 mulgation of the Gospel ; but by no means 
 consistent with the humble pretensions of an 
 uninspired, self-appointed minister of a well- 
 established religion." 
 
 " Sir," said Griper, " whatever may be your 
 opinion, I suppose that they are led by the light 
 upon their soul to follow the pattern, as nearly 
 as they can, which the disciples of Jesus mani- 
 fested in the conduct of their ministry. How 
 can they err in doing this ?" 
 
 D 3 
 
54 THE merchant's family. 
 
 " It would be better in many cases," said the 
 Doctor, " for them to follow the directions, 
 advice, and exhortations, rather than the con- 
 duct of the apostles, which, as chosen and in- 
 spired men occupied in a new work, is beyond 
 the reach and necessity of imitation. And, as 
 to the inward light to which they lay claim, if 
 it be such as they can pretend to experience, to 
 feel, and to perceive, I deny its possession 
 altogether." 
 
 " But," said Vincent, " you will allow that 
 the Almighty is disposed to enlighten the minds 
 of men ; for we are repeatedly called upon to 
 pray for the Holy Spirit to guide us unto truth 
 and God has promised to give it to his peoijle, 
 
 " I admit," continued the Doctor, " that he 
 has promised to do this, but when bestowed, it 
 is poured insensibly upon the heart and mind. 
 You cannot know of its possession by any other 
 criterion than the faith which it inspires, and 
 the fruit which it produces, which is love, joy, 
 meekness, and the like. To talk of the actual 
 and experimental possession of the Spirit, is to 
 put yourselves in the power of the Prince of 
 darkness. It comes, I say, upon the soul un- 
 perceived, like the wind, the sound of which 
 
 
THE merchant's FAMILY. 55 
 
 may be heard, but 'whence it cometh and 
 whither it goeth' no one can tell." 
 
 " Do you mean to say," asked Mr.Trustwell, 
 " that those of Mr. Griper's persuasion lay claim 
 to direct inspiration ?" 
 
 " No," replied Griper with emphasis, " we 
 do not pretend altogether to the possession of 
 such inspiration as that which illuminated the 
 Prophets and Apostles of old ; but we contend 
 for that which we actually enjoy ; a light shining 
 within our minds, directing us by what means 
 to lay hold on truth and to enforce it." 
 
 " And pray let me ask," said Alexander, 
 " how you are enabled to distinguish the per- 
 ceptible operations of the Holy Spkit, and the 
 ^mlpable workings of Satan? because he can 
 ' transform himself into an angel of light ;' and 
 they who are led by him are as much convinced 
 that they are inspired by the Spirit of God as 
 you yourselves are." 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Griper," continued the Doctor, 
 " however you may soften it, the teachers and 
 disciples of your persuasion lay claim to a direct 
 inspiration. Does not the Champion of your 
 faith repeatedly make these pretensions ? ' I had 
 much of the prese?ice of God.' — ' The kingdom 
 
 D 4 
 
56 THE merchant's family. 
 
 of God is within me/ — ' The Eternal I AM 
 hath sent me/ — ' God has given me a double 
 portion of his Holy Spirit.' — Nay, is he not still 
 more presumptuous and arrogant in saying, ' I 
 talked with God in the garden as a man talketh 
 with his friend?' Now what is all this but a 
 pretence to apostolical inspiration ? Indeed, I 
 will undertake to show, that the Apostles them- 
 selves never had those inflated ideas of self- 
 righteousness to which such Christians lay claim. 
 It tauffht them mildness in their actions and 
 private life, and gave them invincible boldness 
 in speaking forth the words of holiness. It 
 inspired them with an abhorrence for vice ; it 
 checked their pretensions to arrogant righteous- 
 ness and self-justification, and tempered all their 
 words and actions ; but, (continued the Doctor, 
 looking at the same time earnestly at Vincent,) 
 it did not puff them up in their notions of ex- 
 clusive holiness in which to make their boast ; 
 it did not inflate them with religious conse- 
 quence : on the contrary, St. Paul, that star of 
 the Apostles, notwithstanding the immediate 
 presence of the Holy Ghost indisputably dwell- 
 ing in him, and animating all his labours, en- 
 tertained very different opinions, when he said, 
 
THE MERCHANI'*S FAMILY. 57 
 
 * Lest that by any means, when I have preached 
 to others, I myself should be cast away.' " 
 
 " Doctor," said Mr. Trustwell, " I enth'ely 
 subscribe to what you have advanced ; for I have 
 uniformly found, that where you see so much 
 pretension, there is the greatest room for sus- 
 pecting the sincerity of it. I am quite sure that 
 the fruits of the Spirit are not wild extravagance 
 and phrenzy, but the reverse of all this, — love, 
 joy, and mildness." 
 
 " It seems, gentlemen," resumed Mr. Griper, 
 " that by the instrumentality of your carnal 
 knowledge, you would gainsay and resist the 
 effects of the Holy Spirit ; for you appear in- 
 clined to deny that it operates at all upon the 
 iimer man.^' 
 
 " God forbid," said Dr. Freeman, " that I 
 should deny its influence, as working in our 
 hearts the eternal law of life, and directing us 
 in the blessed path that leads to happiness be- 
 yond the grave, eternal in the heavens. No, 
 Mr. Griper, we admit the ordinary operations 
 of the Spirit upon our hearts, but we must 
 deny any thing more than this. We deprecate 
 that wild, incoherent extravagance which runs 
 into extremes, and presumptuously attributes its 
 
 D 5 
 
58 THE merchant's family. 
 
 actions to the blessed Paraclete, the essence of 
 God himself. In fact, we cease to be Christians 
 when we reject the belief of the Holy Ghost; 
 for by its operations, regeneration or a new 
 birth, by which we are admitted into a partici- 
 pation of the blessings of the Gospel, is com- 
 pleted within us." 
 
 The word " regeneration" operated like magic 
 in calling up the attention of Vincent, who ex- 
 claimed with a hurried and impetuous tone, as 
 if in doubt whether to credit his ears : *' What, 
 what is that you say about regeneration ?" But 
 Alexander, foreseeing that a long conflict must 
 result from persisting in the discussion, broke it 
 up, by saying, " Come, gentlemen, here have 
 we been running out the line of disputation, 
 without duly considering that the purpose for 
 which we are assembled is to enjoy our glass of 
 wine, and to drink the health and happiness of 
 the bride and bridegroom." 
 
 "True," said Mr. Trustwell ; "in tliis re- 
 spect we have been very remiss : pass on the 
 wine, Doctor, and let us pledge to Mr. and 
 Mrs. Griper." 
 
 Dr. Freeman now taking his glass, cast his 
 eye upon the bridegroom. 
 
THE MERCHANTS FAMILY. 59 
 
 " Sir," said he, " I heartily give you joy; you 
 have my best wishes for your happiness. Be- 
 Heve me, Mr. Griper, however earnestly I may 
 feel disposed to contend with you on the sub- 
 ject of our religious differences, it is far from me 
 to urge any thing but fair and candid disputa- 
 tion; and I am disposed to listen, without the 
 least prejudice, to all that you can advance in 
 support of your tenets. I by no means presume 
 to affirm that mine only are right ; I would only 
 wish to canvass the grounds on which yours 
 stand, and compare them with those on which I 
 consider my owti to rest. I look upon it as a 
 mutual advantage, seriously and dispassionately 
 to discuss such points." 
 
 " Sir," replied Griper, " I give you entire 
 credit for your sincerity ; and though we are 
 accustomed to expect hostility from those of 
 your church, I am convinced we shall experience 
 none from you. I will not now enter into any 
 further matter, as, perhaps, a more favourable 
 opportunity may offer itself." So saying, he, 
 having first poured water into his glass, and 
 then discoloured it with a sufficient quantity of 
 wine to spoil both liquids, returned the honour 
 done to him by drinking the health of the party. 
 D 6 
 
60 THE merchant's FAMILY. 
 
 From religion, the conversation next turned 
 upon politics, and from politics to affairs of 
 trade and commerce, when a servant announced 
 coffee in the drawing-room, upon which Mr. 
 Trustwell, having for some time perceived that 
 the bottle had circulated without any apparent 
 diminution, proposed obeying the summons. 
 
 Mr. Trustwell now conducting Dr. Freeman, 
 led him up to the drawing-room, where he found 
 the party had gained a great accession to its 
 numbers by the junction of several ancient 
 ladies, who, it seems, had been invited in com- 
 pliment to the bride. These, from an absurd 
 aim at preposterous over-dress, resembled so 
 many unwrapped mummies placed along the 
 walls of the room, or rather they were arranged 
 like large unhealthy shrubs in a greenhouse, 
 with here and there a beautiful heath in the 
 form of an elegant young woman interspersed 
 among them. 
 
 In the social circle, ladies of correct and un- 
 assuming manners, and whose appearance from 
 their dress and deportment gives respectability 
 to their years, however ancient, must ever be 
 considered as acquisitions, because they gene- 
 rally bring with them considerable information. 
 
THE merchant's FAJNIILY. 61 
 
 the fruit of much experience. Tliey are the 
 guardians of the rising generation, and patterns 
 of decorum and propriety. It is only when 
 they descend from these heights, by aiming 
 either to be singular or considered younger 
 than they really are, that they become objects 
 of ridicule. 
 
 Mrs. Trustwell conducted her husband and 
 Dr. Freeman towards three young ladies, who 
 were at this moment forming a group, and 
 conversing with Elizabeth Trustwell. " Miss 
 Marmontelles," said she, " permit me to intro- 
 duce to you my husband and Dr. Freeman. — 
 These ladies are the nieces of our friend 
 Miss Lapwing, and, I am happy to say, intend 
 remaining in our neighbourhood for some weeks. 
 The rest of the party I believe you know." She 
 then introduced her son Alexander, and was 
 making enquiry for Vincent, at the very moment 
 he was entering the room. 
 
 Mrs. Griper seeing him unaccompanied by 
 her husband, immediately asked, " My dear 
 Vincent, what is become of your uncle?" 
 
 " Madam," he has requested me to make his 
 apologies to you and to my mother for not 
 drinking tea here, but he is just gone to have 
 
62 THE merchant's family. 
 
 ail interview with one or two persons with 
 wiiom he has some business." Then advanc- 
 ing, he performed obeisance to the Miss Mar- 
 moiitelies, and, by a sort of natural instinct, 
 attaclied himself to the eldest of them. The 
 fact was, this young lady was one of those 
 serious persons of whom we now hear so much, 
 who consider themselves as more religious than 
 others, by assuming an austerity and gloominess 
 of manners both unnatural and unreasonable. 
 
 Without considering the variations or the 
 complexions of character in different persons, 
 they who indulge in any rational domestic 
 amusements, or in public pleasures, are now- 
 a-<iays regarded as expatriated from the Chris- 
 tian community, by others, who assume to 
 tliemselves the distinction of the Rehgious 
 World, and consider it unbecoming to mingle 
 in the common haunts, or refined recreations of 
 life. There was no subject which more strongly 
 called forth the eloquence and the display of 
 talent of the wortliy Rector than this, to con- 
 trovert ' the growing error,' as he termed it. 
 Often from the pulpit, and more frequently in 
 }>rivate, did he remonstrate against the un- 
 charitable conclusions which the arrogant 
 
THE merchant's FAMILY. 6S 
 
 modern religionist deduced from the cheerful- 
 ness and conviviality manifested in social inter- 
 cooirse. " If there be any," he would say, 
 " who are impelled by motives of religion to 
 sej^arate themselves from the converse or the 
 pleasures of society, that they may better dis- 
 cliai'ge their duties, even though those motives 
 be false, let them act according to the dictates 
 of dieir dispositions, but let them not bind 
 odiei's to the rules which they thus prescribe to 
 themselves : nor let them censure those whose 
 feelings on this subject may be altogether dif- 
 fei'ent. There is too much of pride and boasting 
 in all this affected abstinence li'om the innocu- 
 ous amusements of public and private life, not to 
 be mistaken. There is an imaginary holiness in 
 thus visibly withstanding the allurements of the 
 world : in showing a stoical indifference to the 
 rational and the natural pleasures of existence, 
 ill accordinoj either with the feelings and sen- 
 sibility of youth, or with the plain injunctions 
 of Holy Writ. But admitting that in cases 
 where sickness, debility of body, or dejection 
 of spirits incites to this disposition, why are 
 others of a different frame and cast of mind 
 to be withheld from the moderate and tern- 
 
64- THE merchant's family. 
 
 perate enjoyments of life ? " I," he would go 
 on to say, " I deprecate all manner of violence 
 aiid excess, but I stand up for the exercise of a 
 rational, religious liberty. Let Christians who 
 are neither licentious nor austere, learn to bear 
 with the variations of opinion upon these points ; 
 and whether disposed to partake of a feast, or 
 to observe a fast; whether they abstain from 
 amusements as irreligious, or as tending to 
 withdraw their minds from more important con- 
 cerns, while others can indulge in them without 
 harm and without detriment, let them not lose 
 sight of Christian Charity." 
 
 Had these feelings been imbibed by Miss 
 Marmontelle, she would not have been led upon 
 this occasion to have formed, with Mrs. Griper 
 and Vincent, a select party in one corner of the 
 room, at a distance from the company at large, 
 to look over pictures of martyred saints and 
 African missionaries, and to canvass schemes 
 for the conversion of the Jews, and for restoring 
 them to the Holy Land, whilst others, with 
 better taste, with more propriety, and certainly 
 with greater civility, having entered society, 
 endeavoured to amuse each other by contri- 
 buting to its support ; carrying on the general 
 
THE merchant's FAMILY. 65 
 
 conversation ; hearing or aiding the musical 
 performances ; looking over, and expatiating 
 upon those other rational and elegant amuse- 
 ments of life, to which the pen and the pencil so 
 much contribute, or partaking in such games of 
 recreation and pastime as agreeably exercise 
 the mind, without calling into action, in the 
 remotest degree, any passions or excitements 
 derogatory either to humanity or reUgion. 
 
66 
 
 THE SICK PENITENT. 
 
 Dr. Freeman had been requested by a friend 
 who had suddenly become very unwell, and to 
 whom he was in the habit of frequently ren- 
 dering assistance, to undertake the duty of his 
 Cliurch, which was situated at the distance of 
 an hour's walk from the town. He had been 
 preaching an excellent and effective sermon on 
 procrastination, in which he had pointed out 
 the danger of delay in " the thmgs which be- 
 long to our peace," when on coming out of the 
 Qmrch he was accosted by a woman, whose 
 garments, though neatly clean, indicated great 
 poverty. She had been seated during the ser- 
 vice on a bench directly facing the pulpit, where 
 he had frequently before observed her : but her 
 uncommon earnestness and attention to what he 
 that day deUvered had caught his notice. She 
 now requested, in the absence of the Vicar, that 
 he would have the goodness to accompany her 
 
THE SICK PENITENT. 67 
 
 on a visit to her husband, who, she said, was 
 then stretched on the bed of sickness, and feehng 
 in himself the little probability of ever again 
 rising from it, she had caught at the wish he 
 now expressed of calling in the counsel of the 
 clei'gyman. To appeals of this kind, the Doc- 
 tor lent a ready ear ; and though somewhat 
 fatigued by the exertions of the day, he readily 
 followed her to a mud-hovel, situated alone in 
 a further corner of the village. Here poverty 
 was depicted in strong colours. Low and nar- 
 row was the entrance, through a door liable to 
 be blown open by any gust of wind, into a room 
 too large in its rnde imperfect state to afford 
 much comfort ; and scanty were the articles of 
 furniture, which were here and there seen in 
 this apartment. The apertures for light, for 
 they could scarcely be called windows, answered 
 the description so correctly drawn by Crabb : — 
 
 " Where one dull pane, that, coarsely patch'd, gives way 
 " To the rude tempest, yet excludes the day." 
 
 It was, indeed, altogether a scene from which, 
 if it could have stooped so low, Pride might 
 have derived a goodly lesson, to mortify- its 
 vanity, improve its heart, and modulate to a 
 more equal pitch its high-strung feelings. 
 
68 THE SICK PENITENT. 
 
 But besides this cheerless room, there was 
 another of equal dimensions, in which the poor 
 man was stretched upon " his matted flock.*' 
 The wasting of a slow but deep consumption 
 had thrown over his sharp and pointed visage 
 an unearthly cast ; whilst a livid hue, the result 
 of mental inquietude, had given a deep shade 
 to his countenance, which alternately exhibited 
 despair and constrained cheerfulness. The 
 teaiiing of a short cough either prevented liis 
 taking any rest, or when exhausted nature for 
 a short time sank into the appearance of repose, 
 soon broke the death-like calm. 
 
 On a three-legge'l table vv.^e placed a small 
 broken tea-pot, wliic). contained the liquid with 
 which he occasionally moistened his parched 
 and withered lips ; a Bible, a Prayer-book, 
 and a few misnamed " Religious Tracts," 
 which the pertinacious hardiness of itinerant 
 pedlars imposes upon the poor and ignorant. 
 Aided by these hot-bed productions of perverted 
 intellect and inflated spirituality, they had been 
 zealously trying, as they termed it, within the last 
 few days, to enlighten his understanding, to open 
 his eyes to faith and grace, and to convert his sin- 
 ful soul. And although they had not succeeded 
 
THE SICK PENITENT. 69 
 
 SO far as to make him one of their own — that 
 is, one who groans loudly, makes much pre- 
 tension, and talks incoherently of what he does 
 not understand — they had confused his ideas, 
 and unhinged his tranquillity. 
 
 Here then was an object worthy the Chris- 
 tian pastorage of our kind Rector; one who 
 needed the guiding voice of a good shepherd 
 to direct his wandering and uncertain thoughts 
 to their true channel, and give them their ne- 
 cessary stability ; who, though not a notorious 
 sinner, was a stranger to God, and had yet to 
 learn " how sweet and pleasant it is to know 
 the Lord." 
 
 After the Doctor had ascended into this mi- 
 serable lofl^ by a rickety course of rough-hewn 
 blocks of wood, in the shape of stairs, he looked 
 upon the dejected dying man, with emotions of 
 pity and kindness. 
 
 " Well, my friend," said he, " how do you 
 find yourself? I am come at the request of 
 your wife to see you, and I hope you will ap- 
 prove of my visit." 
 
 ' " Oh, Sir !" he replied, " I am indeed very 
 weak in bodily health, and have long wished to 
 
70 THE SICK PENITENT. 
 
 have a little conversation with some one, who 
 could really instruct me how to pray and be 
 truly good." 
 
 " I am surprised," continued the Doctor, 
 '' that a man of your years, who has hved more 
 than half a century, should have, at this ad- 
 vanced state of hfe, to ask to learn how to pray 
 and be good. How have you passed your 
 time ? Have you not regularly attended divine 
 service ?" 
 
 " Yes," he replied ; " I have gone regularly 
 to Church, when opportunity permitted, at least 
 once a-day ; but I am ashamed to confess, that 
 I believe it was rather as a matter of course, 
 than fi'om any love of God, or a proper motive 
 of serving him. And though I know, both 
 yourself and other gentlemen before you have 
 there frequently pointed out how we should 
 behave ourselves in all situations, and prepare 
 for the day of judgment, yet so indifferent have 
 I hitherto been, that I have failed to profit by 
 these excellent lessons. But I now see the 
 wickedness of this neglect, and humbly beg 
 your advice." 
 
 " My advice is always ready," said the 
 
THE SICK PENITENT. 71 
 
 Doctor ; " and I pray God you may be able to 
 profit by it ? But first tell me, what has been 
 your course of life ?" 
 
 " If you will allow me, reverend Sir, I 
 will tell you my history in a few words : — My 
 parents were very poor people ; and whilst I 
 was quite a lad, my father was drowned in the 
 act of trying to save the life of a neighbour's 
 child. Many blamed him for being so ven- 
 turesome, and my poor mother, in her bitterness 
 of grief, was one of that number ; but when, 
 afterwards, she was sensible to reason, she used 
 to console herself that he had only done his 
 duty. I was too young then to know his loss ; 
 but often, when my five brothers and sisters had 
 scarcely a morsel of bread for our daily sup- 
 port, and tears have been rolling down my 
 mother's cheeks, I have asked her why she 
 cried, and where my father was ; she would 
 reply that he was gone to Heaven ; that he had 
 lost his life in doing a good action. Now, Sir, 
 how this happened I will go on to tell you. 
 One day a child about my own age, who was 
 playing on the banks of the river which ran 
 past our town, unfortunately fell in, and was 
 carried down the stream into a dangerous 
 
.72 THE SICK PENITENT. 
 
 whirlpool. My father, who saw this, and heard 
 the heart-piercing shrieks of the poor dis- 
 tracted mother, boldly leaped in, and ventured 
 his own life to save the child's. Tliat child is 
 now my wife ! At an early age I went out to 
 service, and had no opportunity of learning to 
 read; for there were no charity-schools for 
 poor boys and girls then as there are now. I 
 have been fifty years a servant, and have only 
 had four masters. My wife has been attentive 
 and faithful, and with her assistance, though 
 sometimes we were in great straits, we have 
 hitherto supported our family consisting of 
 three boys and four girls. It is for them I feel, 
 when I think that after I am gone, they will 
 only have their poor mother to look up to for 
 protection." 
 
 Here tears prevented his saying any more. 
 His children pressed round him, watching with 
 affectionate anxiety his varying countenance, 
 whilst his wife bade him be of good cheer, and 
 remember that God never forsakes the virtuous 
 and their seed ; and how gracious he had been 
 to his mother, when his father, losing his life, 
 had left her a widow. " You know, John," said 
 she, " there were six of you, and yet you have 
 
THE SICK PENITENT. 73 
 
 all lived honestly and uprightly in the world, 
 and were able to do a little now and then for 
 your mother, who never really was in want." 
 
 The Doctor was not an unmoved spectator of 
 this interesting scene. And the patient, wiping 
 away his tears with what had once been a hand- 
 kerchief, acquiesced in the homely consolation, 
 and resumed his reply to the minister. 
 
 '' Thus, Sir, I have contrived to go on 
 from year to year. I have never been guilty, 
 to my knowledge, of any very bad sin. I never 
 stole any thing from any body, and never 
 cheated my neighbour. I never was a great 
 swearer, but for all that I feel something more 
 is wanted. I am a great sinner, and am some- 
 times very unhappy in my mind. I am no 
 scholar; I would fain be good, but know not 
 how to set about it." 
 
 " You acknowledge that you feel yourself a 
 sinner, and are conscious you stand in need of 
 instruction," said the Doctor. " Now this is 
 one grand step towards being made better. 
 But, at the very onset, let me caution you 
 against following any by-road to amendment. 
 For in affairs of religion, as well as medicine, 
 there are quacks who pretend to bring about a 
 
 VOL. I. E 
 
74 THE SICK PENITENT. 
 
 cure, when, alas ! they too frequently, to use 
 tlie emphatic words of our Saviour, make their 
 patients 'tenfold more the children of Satan/ 
 Now such as these aim to reach the end of 
 their course without being at the trouble to pass 
 over the space between. Against such I must 
 warn you, if you wish to die peaceably with 
 heaven and yourself. 
 
 " The first thing, therefore, which I would 
 recommend you to do, is to search your own 
 heart, and endeavour to call to mind those 
 sins of which you have at any time been guilty, 
 and of which you have never repented. When 
 you have done this, in which your conscience 
 will be your guide, you must then humble 
 yourself before God, and sincerely, and as well 
 as you are able, pray to him that he will send 
 you his help to assist you to repent, and his 
 grace to make your repentance acceptable 
 before him. The consciousness of your sins 
 will show you the necessity of trusting yourself 
 entirely to his holy keeping and sacred guid- 
 ance, throwing aside all ideas of your own merits, 
 and humbly confessing your own unworthiness 
 and many frailties." 
 
 Their conversation was here interrupted by 
 
THE SICK PENITENT. 75 
 
 the entrance of some neighbours, who came to 
 inquire after the poor man's health, and the 
 state of his soul ; and without bestowing much 
 attention upon the Doctor, one of them thus 
 accosted the sick man : — 
 
 " I just stepped in, brother, to ask how you 
 are going on in your soul ; if you have been 
 meditating on the things which I was explaining 
 to you yesterday. Hath your faith yet assisted 
 you to feel the Holy Ghost striving with your 
 spirit, and giving you grace to forget every 
 thing in this world, that you may better look 
 upon the glorious beauties of Heaven ? Have 
 you yet felt the wonderful effect of grace work- 
 ing within you, and telling you that you are no 
 longer a child of destruction, but one of the 
 elect ? But, I beg pardon, brother-preacher, 
 I suppose you have been talking on this sub- 
 ject, so that I need not ask any farther ques- 
 tions. If, however, I can be of any use to you. 
 Sir, I shall be very glad, for though I be not 
 a scholar in carnal knowledge, yet, by the 
 grace of God, I am what I am, and I think 
 that grace and inspiration are better than all the 
 laming and fine language that can be larnt at 
 the Univarsity." 
 
 E 2 
 
76 THE SICK PENITENT. 
 
 When he had said ' this, he seemed much 
 satisfied with himself, and assumed all the air 
 and importance of one who fancied himself an 
 inspired teacher and a highly-gifted apostle. 
 This consequence, however, was considerably 
 diminished, when " the Son of the Church," 
 with calm and dignified air, as remote from 
 presumption as the other's was from true dig- 
 nity, continued: — 
 
 " I came not here to question and dispute 
 with you, nor any such, about matters of which, 
 whatever may be your pretensions, you neces- 
 sarily know nothing, except by name. Ignor- 
 ance I pity, and am always ready to use my en- 
 deavours to instruct it ; but ignorance, which, 
 whilst it puts on the cloak of humility and 
 religion, would be thought highly of, I detest. 
 And though I am aware that my words will 
 have little effect upon one who pretends to an 
 inspiration that may be felt, and a grace that 
 may be handled, yet I must inform you, and 
 that with plainness and sincerity, that such as- 
 sistance as yours every conscientious minister 
 of the Established Church, as well as myself, 
 must despise." 
 
 " I am glad you are here, reverend Sir," 
 
THE SICK PENITENT. 77 
 
 said the sick man, " to assist me in bearing up 
 against the hard mysterious advice of him and 
 some others, which they have lately been trying 
 to thrust upon me ; and, to say the truth, I do 
 sincerely believe they have made me very un- 
 easy." Here the self-constituted teacher mani- 
 festing great surprise, rejoined : — 
 
 " I only wanted to rouse you from the sleep 
 of sin, and wake you to a sense of your uncon- 
 verted state ; to stir up the stings of conscience, 
 that you might feel alarmed at the danger you 
 were in. I only wanted to show you, that if 
 you did not turn, you must be damned ; and in 
 order to do this, I thought it the best way to 
 alarm your soul : indeed — " 
 
 " And yet," interrupted the Doctor, " the 
 great author of our religion, and the pattern of 
 all perfection, ' never broke the bruised reed, 
 nor quenched the smoking flax;' that is, he 
 never terrified penitents out of their reason, nor 
 carried dismay into ' the hearts of the contrite 
 ones.' As his ways w^ere mercy and goodness, 
 so were his teaching and instruction full of ffen- 
 tleness and love. And shall the pretenders to 
 tangible inspinition, — the abettors of irresist- 
 
 E 3 
 
78 THE SICK PENITENT. 
 
 ible grace — the self-appointed preachers — 
 the bhiid leaders of the blind, take upon them- 
 selves to 
 
 ' Deal damnation o'er the land 
 On all they deem their foe?' 
 
 Instead of winning the penitent, and drawing 
 him on by the true spirit of the Gospel, to ap- 
 proach to that fountain, where ' every one that 
 thirsteth may drink of the water of life without 
 money and without price,* they render him so 
 feeble, that like the impotent man at the pool 
 of Bethesda, he sees in vain the angel of com- 
 fort descend. They either terrify him from his 
 good resolves, by disgusting him with their over- 
 done appearance of religion, or lull him, if he 
 only can make strong pretensions, into a false 
 security of self-appointed salvation. And on 
 this account it was that I warned you against 
 these quacks in religion." 
 
 During these observations the self-appointed 
 preacher, finding that it was in vain to combat 
 these home thrusts, or make any farther stay, 
 contrived to slip away, and the Doctor once 
 more found himself alone with his patient. 
 
 " Shall I repeat to you," enquired he, " what 
 
THE SICK PENITENT. 79 
 
 I was saying, when the misguided zeal of your 
 neighbour interrupted me ?" 
 
 " No, I thank you," replied the sick man: 
 " I perfectly remember your instructions, and 
 am only anxious to profit by them." 
 
 " That being the case," continued the Doc- 
 tor, " let us now address ourselves to Him 
 * who gives the increase to whatever a Paul 
 may plant, or an Apollos may water ;' for 
 without his gracious assistance after we have 
 turned to him, all our instruction and teaching 
 will be as ' sounding brass, or as a tinkling 
 c}Tiibal.' " 
 
 " But let me ask," said the sick man, " how 
 can a poor creature, like me, hope to obtain that 
 assistance ?" 
 
 " By asking for it humbly and sincerely," 
 continued the Doctor ; "for has not the Saviour 
 said, ' Seek, and ye shall find ; knock, and it 
 shall be opened ; ask, and ye shall receive ! ' I 
 wall, therefore, beg you to join me in prayer, 
 silently, attentively, and devoutly." 
 
 So saying, he drew from his pocket a book, 
 out of which he read such prayers as are pre- 
 scribed by the Church, and others which have 
 
 E 4- 
 
80 THE SICK PENITENT. 
 
 been written by some of her pious and most 
 valuable members. 
 
 When he had finished, and repeated his 
 instructions, he marked out for him, to be read 
 by some of his family? such passages in the 
 Scriptures, particularly in the Psalms, as he 
 deemed suitable at that time ; and having pro- 
 mised to repeat his visit daily, he departed. 
 On his way home he met with several of his 
 own parishioners, who, invited by the fineness 
 of the evening, were enjoying with their families 
 a walk into the country. Instead of supercili- 
 ously judging such relaxation, the Doctor ex- 
 claimed to himself, " This is, indeed, a day of 
 rest ! and happy they who know and duly value 
 the Christian Sabbath !" 
 
 A week had now passed since the Doctor's 
 first visit, during which time he had expounded 
 to him short passages and incidents which were 
 best calculated to inspire trust in God, by 
 exhibiting him in the character of a father and 
 a friend, and he had the satisfaction to find 
 that his patient was progressively advancing in 
 the great work of his own salvation. His 
 doubts and fears, and gloominess of mind, were 
 gradually subsiding, and though his strength 
 
THE SICK PENITENT. 81 
 
 was proportionably diminished, his trust in God 
 o-rew stronirer and stron^jer, and his faith in the 
 atonement and merits of his Redeemer was 
 evidenced by a cheerfulness of look and words, 
 which, whilst it yielded consolation to his family, 
 gave a blessed earnest that the grace of God 
 was working within him, in a mild, rational, and 
 silent manner. 
 
 On all occasions of his visit, the worthy 
 Doctor was careful to call upon the attention of 
 the whole family, and to point out to them the 
 beautiful operation of their blessed religion, 
 which bestowed upon its true disciples a peace 
 and serenity of mind, a cheerfulness and resign- 
 ation of disposition, which " nothing earthly 
 gives, or can destroy." On one of these occa- 
 sions, some weeks after the Doctor's first visit, 
 when the poor man had expressed himself far 
 more happy than he could have supposed he 
 ever should have been made in so short a space 
 of time, he concluded his observations with these 
 words : — 
 
 " I am shocked when I think how I have 
 put off this necessary searching into the heart, 
 and holding communion with God, and I now 
 feel truly and sincerely penitent, that though I 
 
 E 5 
 
82 THE SICK PENITENT. 
 
 always kept myself from gross sins, I did not 
 apply myself to the Fountain of all Good, to 
 bless my endeavours. I now see the danger 
 both of self-sufficiency, and the want of gratitude 
 in not giving God the glory." 
 
 " Yes, my friends," observed the Doctor, 
 addressing himself to them all, " great is the 
 danger of delay; and I hope the younger 
 branches of this family will learn, from the 
 example and words of their father, who will 
 soon be no more, to ' remember their Creator 
 in the days of their youth ;' and that the up- 
 grown ]iart of it will be put upon their guard to 
 ' seek the Lord, while he may be found,' lest 
 the evil days come, when they will bitterly ex- 
 claim, ' that they have no pleasure in them.' " 
 
 " Oh, my children !" said the penitent, with 
 honest affection, and a sweet serenity that 
 lighted up his countenance with a heavenly 
 look, " if you value true happiness, and 
 would die the death, let me beg of you to live 
 the life, of a Christian. Begin it early, for 
 God may not spare you as he has spared 
 me. Let me tell you, that till I began to live 
 unto him, I never knew what true pleasure 
 was — I never enjoyed such sweet cheerfulness 
 
THE SICK PENITENT. 83 
 
 and comfort in the days of my health and 
 strength as I now begin to experience, though 
 laid upon the bed of death, and exposed to 
 want and sickness. Practise throughout your 
 lives, what I, alas ! have only now learnt, and 
 let your want of experience be made up by 
 mine ; for remember, yes, I charge you, if you 
 ever loved your father, never to forget his last, 
 his dying advice — that if you would be happy, 
 you must be virtuous and religious." 
 
 " By which," interrupted the Doctor, seeing 
 that the poor man was exhausted, " your father 
 means, that you must not only keep from dis- 
 honesty, swearing, lying, and such bad actions, 
 but you must practise love and charity to one 
 another, doing good as far as you can, and 
 bearing all things with cheerfulness and resign- 
 ation — and all this from your love of God. 
 Even your father's death, which necessarily 
 draws nigh, and which must naturally afflict 
 your feelings, will be an occasion to try your 
 trust in God, and season your faith in the fur- 
 nace of affliction. If you bear it patiently, and 
 ' sorrow not, as those who have no hope,' but 
 as Christians, it will be a subject that will tend 
 to your spiritual good. Above all, never fail to 
 
 E 6 
 
84 THE SICK PENITENT. 
 
 pray, through the merits and intercession of 
 Christ, earnestly and sincerely to God, and he 
 will give you strength to bear all evils, and re- 
 sist all temptations. Make him the guide of 
 your life, and say, with holy David, ' I set the 
 Lord always before me; he is at my right hand, 
 therefore I shall not greatly fall.' And the 
 consequence of all this will be an habitual re- 
 verence for every thing holy and good; which, 
 whilst it diffuses inward satisfaction and peace 
 through your hearts, will show itself in your 
 actions, by imparting a steady cheerfulness to 
 all you do, and to all you say ; a cheerfulness 
 equally remote from immoral levity and morose 
 suUenness. For the effect of Christianity, in its 
 only true operation, is full of goodly comfort, 
 and sweet peace of mind. Do not, therefore, 
 be led to suppose, that groans, austerity of man- 
 ners, and want of spirits, are any proofs by 
 which to know the true followers of the Saviour. 
 He himself showed no such harshness nor stiff- 
 ness in his conduct whilst on earth. On the 
 contrary, as he came ' to guide us into all 
 peace,' so his example, whilst it checked vice 
 and immorality, was full of cheerfulness and 
 tranquillity. Look, my young friends, look now 
 
THE SICK PENITENT. 85 
 
 upon your father ; and contrast the state of his 
 mind now with what it was a short time ago ; 
 then he was gloomy, and given to despondency; 
 afraid to die, and yet not wishing to Uve : now, 
 he is cheerful and full of hope ; read}' to resign 
 his soul to God, who gave it, or submit himself 
 to whatever may be the dispensations of his 
 good providence. The idea of religion appeared 
 to him before, joined with terror and alarm; 
 now it seems to him lovely and attractive ; then 
 it presented to him doubts and fears, now it 
 fills him ' with all joy and peace in believing.' 
 There v.ants but one thing to crown his faith 
 and hope in God, and charity with his neigh- 
 bour, and that is, what I expect, now that we 
 have lately conversed so much on the subject, 
 he will not be unwilling, but rather anxious, to 
 perform. I mean his partaking of the Holy 
 Communion." 
 
 " Oh, Sir," replied the poor man, his eyes 
 swimming with tears, " how I long to share, if 
 it please you, in that holy feast, which I have 
 too long neglected : and for the first time, eat 
 of the bread of life, and drink of the cup of 
 blessing, as you have explained them to me. 
 I do feel a great desire to do this, and then> 
 
86 THE SICK PENITENT. 
 
 if it be the Lord's will, I think I shall die in 
 peace." 
 
 " Most gladly will I administer to you tliis 
 hap})y means of grace," answered the venerable 
 Man of God; " and I trust all those of your 
 family who ought, will partake of it with you ; 
 for it is the only appointed way by which we 
 ensure salvation, if with a right mind we avail 
 ourselves of it." The elements were now pro- 
 duced, and his wife and children, who were of 
 proper age, partook in this rite of Christian love 
 and Christian joy. 
 
 Had an indifferent person witnessed this ami- 
 able group, he must have felt an interest in it. 
 But to the sight of a true Christian it would 
 faintly have pictured Heaven. There stood the 
 holy man — here lay the sick and dying peni- 
 tent — and kneeling around, in mute devotion, 
 the other branches of his family, who, like the 
 Apostles, the night in which Christ was be- 
 tiayed, were eating, for the last time in this 
 world, with their guide, their guardian, their 
 father, and friend ! The heart of infidelity 
 would there have witnessed enough to move it 
 from its self-willed presumption, and the eye of 
 scepticism might, in the contemplation of this 
 
THE SICK PENITENT. 8T 
 
 scene, have forgotten to doubt. It was alto- 
 gether a picture, which throws over the black 
 shade of human failings and human misery, a 
 suspension from guilt, and a relief from suffer- 
 ing, whilst, at the same time, it lifts the gross 
 affections of earth to the divine aspirations of 
 Heaven. Even the blessed Angels, who joy in 
 Heaven over the sinner who repenteth, might 
 almost have been supposed to be hovering there 
 in mute delight and wondering love, each emu- 
 lous who first should catch the parting spirit, 
 to waft it to " the bosom of its Father and its 
 God." 
 
 Ere the dawnincr of another sun, without a 
 struggle or a groan, the heavenly essence had 
 forsaken its mortal tabernacle, and winged its 
 flight to that place " where the wicked cease 
 from troubling, and the weary are at rest." 
 
 The Doctor having a few days after recounted 
 this scene, and all its concomitants, in the hear- 
 ing of his young friend, Alexander Trustwell, 
 the latter, who sometimes courted the Nine, 
 produced the following lines : — 
 
 What sweet serenity from virtue flows ! 
 How the rapt soul with pure contentment glows, 
 
88 THE SICK PENITENT. 
 
 That owns, Religion ! thy delightful power, 
 Or in affliction's, or enjoyment's hour. 
 As broods the halcyon o'er the troubled wave, 
 So art thou prompt, and powerful to save ; 
 Fling o'er the surface of tlie raging deep 
 A soothing calm, and bid man cease to weep ; 
 From sorrow's eye wipe off the falling tear, 
 And make each trial by its triumph dear. 
 Thou art all-pleasing ; thy endearing sway 
 Disrobes the night of gloom, and cheers the day ; 
 From Death's dark terrors thou canst man release, 
 And gild his mortal hour with joy and peace. 
 Let those who doubt mark how the Christian dies; 
 Hope beams enshrined in his uplifted eyes. 
 Faith bears him up, and Charity's sweet grace 
 Sheds resignation o'er his woe-worn face, 
 While his last v/ords the heavenly truth confess, 
 Religion gives unchanging happiness. 
 
 " Thanks, heavenly Sire! thy unremitted power 
 Supports my soul in this appalling hour ; 
 Thy sacred influence animates my heart. 
 My hope in Thee enables me to part 
 Resigned, from all the dearest joys on earth, 
 For Thou shalt bring me to a second birth. 
 Mark how the Christian dies whom Heaven sustains, 
 Whilst writhes his aged trunk with mortal pains ; 
 And yet he glories not, save in the love 
 ^\^lich vanquish'd Sin, and gentle as a dove 
 Glides through the breast, and piloting the way. 
 Winds on the progress of the perfect day. 
 Draw near, my friends, receive my latest breath, 
 Already quivering from the touch of death. 
 
THE SICK PENITENT. 89 
 
 O ! be the love of Heaven your ceaseless care, 
 And let the Book of Life Eternal share 
 Your holy reverence, mix'd with sober fear ; 
 Its soothing words the dullest heart can cheer ; 
 In trying scenes they steadfast comfort yield ; 
 Pleasure in health, in pain a sheltering shield : 
 Aided by them, the soul's unshaken rock, 
 Tlie Christian braves temptation's ruthless shock, 
 And views unmoved the direst ills impend ; 
 Virtue his guide, and Christ his hope, his friend. 
 Tlie tears of agony his Saviour shed, 
 When hell's leagued horrors burst around his 
 
 head. 
 Prevent the Penitent's. 
 
 My strength decays, — 
 Why droop ye thus ? Death can no terror raise 
 Save to the wicked. Infidels may find 
 Appalling terrors shake their guilty mind ; 
 And who in life their God blaspheme, compel 
 And court the goading stings and fires of hell. 
 
 shun their ways ; too late repentance wakes, 
 ^\^len Death's chill hand the mortal hour-glass 
 
 shakes. ' 
 
 Be early wise, and what you fail to know 
 Permit to Him, from whom all blessings flow ; 
 Blessings how great, oh, how divinely great ! 
 Which I will praise whilst life's slow pulses beat* 
 My term of days is o'er. See from the skies 
 The blessed Angels beckon me to rise ! 
 
 1 come, I come : my soul with transport swells, 
 And of unutterable pleasures tells. 
 
90 THE SICK PENITENT. 
 
 I come : the body's grosser cares recede ; 
 Bear, bear me, Seraphs, with angelic speed. 
 To Abraham's bosom. Oh ! 'tis sweet to die. 
 For Death is swallowed up in Victory !" 
 
91 
 
 THE UNITARIAN. 
 
 There is a feelinjT attendinfr the funeral of a 
 fellow-mortal, which pulsates with sjTnpathy 
 in the heart of everj' one, not wholly dead to a 
 sense of mortality, or utterly abandoned to the 
 grossness of sensual indulgencies ; a feeling that 
 calls forth, even in the most untutored, reflections 
 and maxims, which, however homely, sometimes 
 serve, like a filtering-vessel, to refine the thoughts 
 and ennoble the understanding. Who, indeed, 
 on viewing the mortal remains of a child of 
 earth carried to its kindred dust, and witnessing 
 the slow and unequal steps of the mourners, 
 sabled in all the habiliments of woe, can refrain 
 either from thinking on his own mortality, or 
 sympathising in the grief which he marks de- 
 picted in the agonized features, or hears in the 
 unrestrained and heart-searching sobs of a 
 widow, an orphan, or a childless parent ? And 
 who, as the bell in deep and solemn tones speaks 
 
92 THE UNITARIAN. 
 
 of death, can listen unmoved to the gracious 
 words which commence our funeral service ? 
 " I am the Resurrection and the Life; whosoever 
 believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall 
 he live," is a most apt exordium for that awful 
 occasion, which, whilst it soothes the wounded 
 and acute feelings of the survivors, lifts our ideas 
 to contemplate the gracious mercies and saving 
 love of God, and the heavenly blessings and 
 never-dying condition of those "who have fought 
 the good fight, and finished their course in the 
 Lord." The whole of that sublime service is 
 calculated in an especial degree to pour the 
 balm of consolation into the wounded mind, and 
 elevate it, in heavenly musings, to the contem- 
 plation of " the Father of mercies and the 
 God of all comfort." The close and simple, 
 yet sublime and dignified arguments of the 
 Apostle, can never be listened to without ex- 
 citing some throb of that " divinity which stirs 
 witliin us." And the solemn truth that rever- 
 berates from the coffin in a hollow and deadened 
 sound, must awake the conviction that " dust 
 we are, and unto dust we must return." Indeed 
 the whole of that service breathes aspirations of 
 the most devout and glowing piety, and would 
 
THE UNITARIAN. 93 
 
 alone redeem, were other parts deficient, the 
 various forms of the English church from oblo- 
 quy and oblivion. 
 
 These sentiments forcibly suggested them- 
 selves to our pastor, on the evening on which 
 was carried to the home of his fathers the poor 
 man whose happy end he had been, next to the 
 grace of God, the humble instrument in pro- 
 moting. It was the hour of eve. The sun was 
 sinking in all the sublimity of heavenly majesty 
 behind the western hills, which reflected down 
 their wood-crowned sides a shadowy tinge of 
 mellowed purple. The bats were wheeling their 
 drony flights, and the tinkling of the distant 
 sheep-bell, like the welling of a perennial foun- 
 tain, stole over the gale, and was heard at inter- 
 vals, when paused the deep and echoing sounds 
 of the village bell. All nature seemed reposing 
 in breathless stillness, and complacent grandeur. 
 The glowing landscape called to the Doctor's 
 remembrance the following stanzas, which a 
 friend of his had lately composed, in imitation 
 of that beautiful production, ' The Evening 
 Bells.' 
 
 That setting sun — that setting sun ! 
 What scenes, since first its race begun, 
 
94? THE UNITARIAN. 
 
 Of varied hue, its eye hath seen, 
 Which are, as they had never been. 
 
 That setting sun ! full many a gaze 
 Hath dwelt upon its fading rays, 
 With sweet, according thought sublime, 
 In every age, and every clime ! 
 
 'Tis sweet to mark thee, sinking slow 
 The ocean's fabled caves below, 
 And when th' obscuring night is done, 
 To see thee rise, sweet setting sun. 
 
 So when my pulses cease to play, 
 Serenely close my evening ray. 
 To rise again, death's slumber done, 
 Glorious like thee, sweet setting sun ! 
 
 These stanzas, so consonant with the scene 
 and occasion, the Doctor had scarcely repeated, 
 as he stood leaning on the gate-post of the 
 church-yard, and contemplating the sun im- 
 nierging from his sight, when he was accosted 
 by one of his own parishioners, Mr. Hawke, a 
 gentleman who hved in the enjoyment of a 
 handsome income, and who, by his profession as 
 a solicitor of eminence, was daily increasing it. 
 He was a man of some reading, and of greater 
 benevolence; but as an Unitarian, maintained 
 
THE UNITARIAN. 95 
 
 reliffious notions at direct variance with those of 
 his Rector. They were, however, upon the most 
 friendly terms, and in the constant habit of 
 meeting each other, as well at their own houses, 
 as at those of the neighbourhood. Upon these 
 occasions frequently would the Doctor lead to 
 the subject of their religious differences, and 
 invite him to an investigation of their respective 
 principles. He sought these opportunities the 
 more, not only that he might bring conviction 
 of the truth of his own tenets to the mind of his 
 neighbour, but that he might not lose such an 
 example as Mr. Hawke was capable of affording, 
 if reclaimed, as a rational and conscientious 
 member of the church. 
 
 " Good evening to you. Doctor," said he; 
 " I have been invited by the fineness of the 
 weather to stroll as far as to yonder hill, and as 
 I am on my return to the town, I shall be glad 
 if you are disposed or at liberty to accompany 
 me. I look upon this meeting as fortunate in 
 another respect : for as you know my solitarv 
 life as a bachelor drives me to the necessity of 
 reading and reflecting more than perhaps I 
 otherwise should do, I have lately taken up 
 
96 THE UNITARIAN. 
 
 what you have so often recommended to me, 
 " Dr. Nares's Remarks" upon the new Version 
 of that Testament, which was some few years 
 since pubUshed by those of our persuasion : and 
 I candidly confess, that after some examination, 
 I think the Doctor has made out a strong case 
 against that translation, and has shown good 
 " cause for a new trial :" but, besides this, he 
 has strung together so many counts in his in- 
 dictment against the principles of it, that 1 
 know not whether judgment should not be pro- 
 nounced against them. Still I cannot relinquish 
 my former objections without another appeal to 
 the Court of enquiry, not before the impedi- 
 ments which clog up my way are more satis- 
 factorily removed." 
 
 " Come, come, my good Sir," said the Doc- 
 tor ; " the prospect begins to clear ; the dis- 
 charge of prejudice, and a thirst for impartial 
 enquiry is more than half fighting the battle of 
 conviction. Most earnestly do I wish the result 
 may prove your admission of our principles. 
 I desire this chiefly because I would have you 
 adopt a belief in that faith which, it is the 
 conviction of my own mind, is the true one : 
 
THE UNITARIAN. 97 
 
 and I desire it, in the next place, because I 
 foresee nothing further to prevent our acquaint- 
 ance from merging into a real friendship." 
 
 " Surely, Doctor," said he, " you do not 
 mean to say that a man of your well-known 
 liberality of mind can withhold your friendship 
 from another, because he happens to differ from 
 you on a few points of a religion, in the belief 
 of which so many, nay all may be mistaken ?" 
 
 " Why," continued the Doctor," " if I answer 
 you as a man, I must reply, that to all I am ac- 
 cessible, and refuse not to be made acquainted 
 with any one. But as a Christian minister and 
 a member of the Church of England, I must 
 pause before I admit into a closer intimacy the 
 professed advocate of a system (I will not call 
 it of religion) which has for its object to rob 
 the Godhead of its majesty, and Divinity of its 
 prerogative." 
 
 " Excuse me. Doctor," repHed Mr. Hawke ; 
 *' I cannot comprehend you ; and it is a part of 
 my principles not to give assent to any thing 
 which I cannot understand." 
 
 *' I am aware that all who are, and profess 
 themselves to be Unitarians," continued the 
 Doctor, " lay great stress on their understand- 
 
 VOL. I. F 
 
98 THE UNITARIAN. 
 
 ing, and affirm tliat what is not intelligible to 
 tliem, they will not admit." 
 
 " And, surely, Doctor, this is founded on 
 Reason, a gift which has been bestowed upon 
 us by our Creator, for the noblest purposes — 
 to investigate, to search, and to give credit 
 where it is found to be due. Else, why should 
 that spark of immortality, which assimilates us 
 to God, have been implanted in us, if we are 
 not permitted to employ it, in the exercise of 
 thought and judgment ?" 
 
 " In this respect," replied the Doctor, " I 
 will chime in with you, and become an Unita- 
 rian — but if you assert that Reason, which is 
 the eye of the soul, is to be employed as an 
 agent to supplant, in its aspiring ambition, the 
 will, the counsel, the wisdom of God, I must 
 differ from you, and declare myself a dissenter. 
 But further, I will take you upon your own 
 ground, and argue the matter on your own data. 
 Laying aside Revelation for the present, we 
 will first discuss the subject on the principle of 
 reason. And, first, you say that it is unworthy 
 the operation of the soul, to assent to what it 
 cannot understand : allow me to ask you, do 
 you believe that you have a soul ?" 
 
THE UNITARIAN. 99 
 
 " Assuredly !" 
 
 " Has it operations, or certain functions to 
 perform ?" 
 
 " Undoubtedly." 
 
 " Is it also your belief that it outlives the 
 body?" 
 
 " This indeed is my hope and belief." 
 
 " And what, may I ask you, are the compo- 
 nent parts of yourself, or the individual man ?" 
 
 " Without doubt, body and soul." 
 
 " And now," continued the Doctor, " that 
 you have fairly admitted all this, allow me still 
 to extend my questions. You say, you have a 
 soul ; that it operates or performs certain func- 
 tions ; that it outlives the body ; and that the 
 body and soul constitute the component or prin- 
 cipal parts of man : you say also, that it is un- 
 worthy your reason to believe what you cannot 
 comprehend. Can you then inform me in what 
 manner the body and soul are joined, so that 
 whilst the former exists, they act in unison, and 
 when it dies, the other outlives it ? Can you 
 comprehend how the actions of the soul are re- 
 gulated, whilst it is combined with the body ? 
 or whither it goes, when disentangled from it ? 
 
 F 2 
 
100 THE UNITARIAN. 
 
 If you can give me information on these topics, 
 you will confer a favour upon me." 
 
 " Really, Doctor, your enquiries have been 
 so rapid, and so voluble, that I have not had 
 time to answer to your cross-questioning. 1 
 know I have a soul, but cannot tell how it is 
 combined with the body." 
 
 " And yet you believe it, Mr. Hawke ?" 
 
 " I do," he replied. 
 
 " See then your inconsistency, my good Sir," 
 continued the Doctor; " you insinuated that 
 you would not admit the Trinity, because you 
 could not comprehend it; because you could 
 not imagine how three persons can be one; 
 and yetj for it would be vain and impious 
 to deny it, you believe you have a soul and 
 body, and reason or mind, and that these three 
 are so intimately connected, that they constitute 
 one *vohole. Here is, by your own confession, 
 a refutation of your darling principle, and you 
 are by your own verdict nonsuited. Now look 
 at that glorious luminaiy which frets the canopy 
 of Heaven with living fire; it is no unapt 
 symbol of the Trinity ; for is it not composed 
 of its body, light, and heat, and do not these 
 three constitute one sun? Mark that lovely 
 
THE UNITARIAN. 101 
 
 star of chaste and liquid light; and contem- 
 plate the many gems of worlds, which stud the 
 robe of night; and tell me, if your compre- 
 hension can take in or understand how these 
 things are, or your boldness assert that they 
 are not ? Philosophers have told us the means, 
 and Christians know the Author of all this 
 beauty and utility ; but they have not been able 
 to discover (for that is above their reach) how 
 these means are formed. But do they, there- 
 fore, doubt or question it ? There are many 
 operations of Nature, too, which are visible to 
 the eye of the most common observer ; and yet 
 so secretly and mysteriously performed, that 
 they cannot be comprehended. What is it, for 
 instance, that gives motion and effect to this 
 evening gale, which robs those verdant pastures 
 of their sweetness ? Whence is it, or whither 
 goes it? We know not; yet we may not doubt 
 its existence." 
 
 " I certainly am at a loss," said Mr. Hawke, 
 '^ to answer these questions satisfactorily, and 
 must admit some inconsistency in my first po- 
 sition. But if one count of my indictment be 
 rejected, I have others which will have weight 
 enough to cast the whole charge against you. 
 
 F 3 
 
102 THE UNITARIAN. 
 
 The Scriptures, which we all admit to be the 
 word of God, never once mention the Trinity, 
 and consequently give no warrant for our ad- 
 mitting it as an article of belief. How can you 
 explain this ?" 
 
 " Your position," replied the Doctor, " here 
 is prima facie right, but your consequence is er- 
 roneous. That the word ' Trinity' is never found 
 in them, I allow ; but that the doctrine of it is 
 not warranted, I will maintain to be false. But 
 the word ' Trinity' is found in the Christian 
 writers, who had opportunities of deriving their 
 instruction from the disciples of the Apostles 
 themselves ; and this was a full century before 
 the author of Unitarianism, Arius, promulgated 
 his presumptuous doctrines. In the very be- 
 ginning of the Bible, the idea of the Trinity is 
 shadowed, and there are many passages in which 
 the Almighty is represented as speaking of him- 
 self in the plural number." 
 
 " But, Doctor, might not this be after the 
 manner of Potentates, who, when speaking of 
 themselves, use the plural form ?" interrupted 
 the Solicitor. 
 
 " I cannot admit a conclusion so derogatory 
 to the majesty of God," said the Doctor. " It 
 
THE UNITARIAN. 103 
 
 is altogether impious to make any thing mortal 
 the standard by which to measure that which is 
 immortal. But supposing this to be so, which 
 I cannot possibly allow, how comes it, that the 
 inspired penman addresses him in the same style, 
 which I can abundantly prove he does, in which 
 God is represented as Jehovah or Elohim, — a 
 word indicative of plurality, but having fre- 
 quently a singular reference ? These authorities 
 may be found in most of the writers who have 
 written against your spiritual clients." 
 
 " Then let me ask," said Mr. Hawke, " how 
 it happened that the Triune Divinity was not 
 manifested as such to the Hebrews ? Or why 
 was he not revealed so openly to all, that there 
 could be no question whatever about it ?" 
 
 " I cannot, perhaps, give you a better answer 
 to these questions," continued the Rector, " than 
 by asking you, why God did not in his com- 
 munications by Moses, reveal clearly and un- 
 equivocally to the Jews, the Gospel scheme of 
 redemption, and the certainty of the resurrec- 
 tion, which in the person of Jesus Christ was 
 fully established ? I apprehend, that even in 
 this, if we trace the analogy of God's dealings 
 with his sinful creatures, we shall find, that the 
 
 F 4 
 
104 THE UNITARIAN. 
 
 knowledge of himself, which he has imparted 
 to us, has been like all other knowledge, pro- 
 gressively given. And that the doctrine of the 
 Resurrection was folded up in the communi- 
 cations of God to the Israelites, our Saviour 
 himself asserts, when he asked the Jews if they 
 had not * read that which was spoken unto 
 them by God, saying, I am the God of Abra- 
 ham, and the God of Isaac, and the God of 
 Jacob ? God is not the God of the dead, but 
 of the living.' Thus that doctrine, which was 
 obscurely revealed to the Israelites by Moses, 
 was publicly asserted by our Saviour; and if 
 you read the history of the earlier ages of the 
 world, you will also find, that what was faintly 
 shadowed in the time of the Patriarchs, was 
 more clearly shown to the Prophets, and by 
 them revealed to the world ; till at length, in a 
 sure and an unerring course, the day-star rose 
 on high, and the aera of the Gospel manifested 
 more lucidly the hidden things of old. But not 
 too dazzlingly. For mark the sun. At first, 
 we see the faint dawning of day-break, till rising 
 gradually he dispels the shades, and at length 
 shines in all the splendour of noontide glory. 
 But even of this luminary so brilliant, and so 
 
THE UNITARIAN. 105 
 
 beneficial, we know but in part. It is only from 
 a distance that we can view and contemplate it. 
 If, constituted as we now are, we were by any 
 power able to draw nearer to it, we are certain 
 that its excess of heat and splendour would 
 overwhelm us. In like manner, if He, who 
 declared his name to be ' I Am that I Am,' 
 (which implies the Trinity) and who allowed 
 himself to be revealed progressively, were to 
 show himself to us, finite mortals, in all his 
 power of immortality and greatness, we should 
 be lost and confounded, and overwhelmed, and 
 unable to understand or comprehend him. 
 ' Known unto him from the befrinnin'r are all 
 his works.' Unto whatever excellence of know- 
 ledge man is permitted to attain, either of his 
 o\\'n, or the nature of the Godhead, that know- 
 ledge has Jehovah placed within his reach, and 
 he acquires it progressively. But that which is 
 solely spiritual he has, in the fulness of his 
 wisdom, reserved for him, when, divested of 
 mortality, he shall be wholly spiritual. Else, 
 what exercise of faith could he have? What 
 hope in believing in his God, his Saviour ? No ; 
 the comprehension of this is reserved for Heaven 
 alone." 
 
 F 5 
 
106 THE UNITARIAN. 
 
 " But, my dear Sir, you are only giving 
 reasons for a mysterj', which you have not yet 
 estabhshed," said Mr. Hawke. 
 
 " Were not the subject mysterious," repHed 
 the Doctor, " there would be no need of esta- 
 blishing it. But having answered your question 
 why the Trinity was not revealed, I will now, 
 passing by the clear and luminous predictions 
 of the Prophets, and the various types of Christ 
 and the Christian verity, under the Jewish dis- 
 pensation, bring you to the proofs contained in 
 the New Testament ; which I will do under 
 three considerations." 
 
 " Be so good, then," said Mr. Hawke, " to 
 state them in order ; for the number three is 
 ominous, and might perhaps only end in unity." 
 
 " Well," said the Doctor, smiling, "you shall 
 be accommodated. But before I do this, you 
 will, I hope, acknowledge that there is one God, 
 and will have no objection to his being termed 
 the Father." 
 
 " Certainly," replied Mr. Hawke ; " this is 
 the key-stone of our belief, that there is one 
 God, call him Jehovah, or Almighty, or Father." 
 
 " This being premised," continued the Doctor, 
 " my first consideration will regard the Son, 
 
THE UNITARIAN. 107 
 
 that he is God ; my second, the Holy Ghost, 
 that he is God ; and my third will prove, that 
 these three are one God." 
 
 " Your arrangement is clear enough, Doctor," 
 said his opposer, " and is, in fact, what your 
 Trinity is, three separate and distinct Beings, 
 without the power of Unity." 
 
 " Prejudge not, my good Sir," said the 
 Doctor ; " for you are well aware, that the law 
 holds no one guilty, till trial has been had, and 
 judgment passed. And first, in respect of the 
 Son. It is an axiom, that he who gave life 
 can alone restore it. Now, that God is the 
 Father and Giver of life is certain, and that he 
 is the only one, who in his own proper right 
 can restore it, must be manifest to all, inasmuch 
 as that which could not live before it had 
 existence, cannot restore it, when that existence 
 is lost." 
 
 " Your hypothesis is plain enough," said 
 Mr.Hawke; " but how you will be able to 
 make this bear upon your present purpose I 
 know not, except by keeping us in talk during 
 the remainder of the walk." 
 
 " My purpose," said the Doctor, " is to 
 assert and prove that our Saviour had this 
 
 F 6 
 
108 THE UNITARIAN. 
 
 power, wliicli God alone can have ; and that he 
 actually exercised it during his ministry on earth, 
 we learn from his recallins: the widow's son to 
 life — restoring, when dead, Jairus's daughter 
 — and resuscitating Lazarus, when ' he had lain 
 in the grave four days.' " 
 
 " I beg pardon," interrupted Mr. Hawke ; 
 " this power was possessed by Elijah, who re- 
 stored the widow'^s son to life ai Zarepta. This 
 is a case in point to render nugatory your argu- 
 ment. There is also another, in which St. Peter 
 is represented as restoring life to Dorcas." 
 
 " I acknowledge the truth of these miracles," 
 replied the Rector ; " but must differ with you 
 as to the authority by which they were done. In 
 both instances, the Prophet and the Apostle are 
 represented as stretching themselves on the dead 
 bodies. And Elijah thrice called upon God, 
 (an oblique hint at the Trinity,) that life might 
 be restored. Both these were the means ; they 
 evidently were only agents. But Christ of his 
 own authority says, ' / say unto you arise ;' and 
 the dead hear and obey his voice. Lazarus, in- 
 folded in the grave, he again authoritatively 
 commanded to come forth, and the grave instant- 
 ly gave forth its victim." 
 
THE UNITARIAN. 109 
 
 " But you will remember," observed Mr. 
 Hawke, " that in your latter instance, we find 
 he prayed to his Father." . 
 
 " He did so," promptly answered the Doctor, 
 " but not for power to perform this miracle. It 
 was a prayer of dianksgiving that his power, his 
 di\4nity, and mission, had now an opportunity 
 of beinjj manifested to men. Here, then, are 
 three instances, in which Jesus Christ restored 
 life when lost, and that too. by his own inherent 
 power, which power belon^^s only to God. 
 But, though I fairly might, I will not re^t the 
 divinity of Christ on this argument alone. 
 You shall hear himself — ' Destroy this temple, 
 said he to the Jews, ' and in three days will I 
 raise it up again.' By temple, as we learn from 
 the Evancrelist. he meant his bodv : and that 
 liis bodv did rise again on the third dav is, to 
 all who acknowledge the truth of the Gospel, as 
 well authenticated as any other of his actions. 
 And that his bodv was raised bv himself, we 
 conclude, not only from this passage, but from 
 these words, — ' My Father loveth me, because 
 I lay do^^Tl my life, that I might take it again. 
 No man taketh it from me, but I lay it down of 
 myself: I have power to lay it down, and I 
 
110 THE UNITARIAN. 
 
 have power to take it again.' Here is the most 
 positive evidence from the mouth of him, ' who 
 spake as man never spake,' that he himself was 
 God. In the next place, when the Almighty 
 revealed himself to the Israelites, the title by 
 which he informed Moses he was to be ad- 
 dressed, was, ' I Am that I Am ;' and this was 
 in an especial manner peculiar to himself, in- 
 volving, as it does, the complete idea of the 
 Trinity. I AM ' he that was, and is, and is to 
 come, the Almighty.' Had Christ been a mere 
 mortal, how highly soever gifted, even beyond 
 the endowments of an Angel — is it to be sup- 
 posed that he would have assumed this title to 
 himself? Yet this he does in several places, of 
 which I shall now, for the sake of brevity, men- 
 tion but these : ' Before Abraham was / Am.^ — 
 * When ye have lift up the Son of Man, then 
 shall ye know / Am.^ — ' If ye believe not that 
 / Am^ ye shall die in your sins.' " 
 
 " What can be a more clear or undisguised 
 acknowledgment of his equality with the Father, 
 than his reply to Philip, asking him to show his 
 disciples the Father ? — ' Have I been so long 
 time with you, and yet thou hast not known 
 me ?' — And again, in another place, * He that 
 
THE UNITARIAN, 111 
 
 hath seen me, hath seen the Father.' — How 
 will you reconcile the declaration of Christ, 
 that ' he and his Father are one,' if you deny 
 his Godhead, and detract from his Divinity? 
 ' You neither know me,' was his observation 
 to the Jews, ' nor my Father ; if ye had known 
 me, ye would have known my Father also.' — 
 ' If God be glorified in the Son, God shall 
 glorify him in himself, and shall straightway 
 glorify him.' — ' He that hateth me, hateth my 
 Father also.' — ' Now have they both seen and 
 hated both me and my Father.' — In all which 
 instances he assumes to himself equality with 
 God, which as a man he could not have done, 
 without the greatest presumption. Or how could 
 he have called, as we read he did, the temple of 
 God his house, if he were not in reaUty what 
 we believe him to be, the Son of God, and God 
 himself?" 
 
 " But if he were God," exclaimed Mr. Hawke, 
 " how comes it that he died ? and that before 
 he died he was almost overwhelmed witli 
 agony ?" 
 
 " Here, again, the answer is, I think, quite 
 satisfactory," repHed the Doctor. " As man he 
 died, as man he suffered, as man he prayed; 
 
112 THE UNITARIAN. 
 
 but ^s God, he is ' the Resurrection and the 
 Life.' In him, humanity and divinity were so 
 closely united and blended, that ' he bore the 
 iniquities of many, and made intercession for 
 the transgressors.' Without blood, no ransom 
 could be paid. None but God could mediate 
 with God ; and none but man could mediate 
 for man. So then, as the mind is the organ or 
 mediator between the body and soul, receiving 
 its impressions from the former, and its nature 
 from the latter, so Christ, uniting in himself the 
 nature of the oflPended and the offender, as 
 the one could only exact punishment, and as the 
 otlier could alone pay the penalty of our trans- 
 gressions. And in respect of his sufferings, par- 
 ticularly in the garden, when his pores wept 
 blood, consider, as he himself confessed, it was 
 ' the hour and power of darkness ;' that is, all 
 the mightiness of hell was then arrayed in active 
 warfare against him. His divinity could not be 
 but deeply sensible of the important office then 
 to be performed, and of the immense weight of 
 sins then to be carried and expiated by him- 
 self alone. In proportion, then, as his divinity 
 was infinitely more excellent, so did his mor- 
 tality more acutely suffer, beyond any thing 
 
THE UNITARIAN. US 
 
 that mere humanity could conceive. In ' this 
 travail of his soul,' then, he suffered ' the chas- 
 tisement of our peace, and on him was laid the 
 iniquity of us all.' I acknowledge this is diffi- 
 cult to be understood, but the difficulty is not 
 therefore to excite doubt; rather to raise our 
 faith, that as ' we now see through a glass darkly,' 
 we shall one day behold and know Jehovah as 
 he is. But I see we are drawing near the end 
 of our walk; I will therefore leave the proof 
 of Christ's Divinity, without adducing further 
 evidence, with which almost every page of the 
 Gospel would supply me." 
 
 " You cannot, I think, advance any argu- 
 ments more weighty than you have already 
 done, in defence of the second person of the 
 Trinity," said Mr. Hawke ; " will you then 
 favour me with your pleadings for tlie third and 
 last person ?" 
 
 " The arguments for the divinity of the Holy 
 Ghost lie within a narrower compass," continued 
 the Christian Advocate, " because the previous 
 points being established, there only remains one 
 person to constitute the triune Godhead, and 
 that person must be the Holy Spirit." 
 
 " You cannot surely mean. Doctor, to rest 
 
114 THE UNITARIAN. 
 
 your defence of the third person on this basis 
 alone," said his Opponent. 
 
 " No, Sir," he replied ; " why should I, when 
 even the annunciation of the Angel to the Virgin 
 furnishes me with an unanswerable argument for 
 the Godhead of the Spirit ? ' The Holy Ghost,* 
 (these were the words of his message,) ' shall come 
 upon thee, and the power of the Highest shall 
 over-shadow thee ; therefore, also, that holy thing 
 which shall be born of thee, shall be called the 
 Son of God.' Now, the child thus produced by 
 the overshadowing of the Holy Ghost, would 
 necessarily be the child of the Holy Ghost ; 
 but the angel, who announced the tidings of 
 great joy to the Virgin, said ' it shall be called 
 the Son of God.' Consequently, unless the 
 Anfjel were as inconsistent an artnier as modem 
 Socinians are, the Holy Ghost and God are 
 one and the same. 
 
 " Again, the Saviour, when consoling his 
 disciples on the prospect of his approaching 
 death, says, ' If I go and prepare a place for you, 
 1 will come again.' — ' And I will pray the 
 Father, and he will give you another Comforter, 
 that he may abide with you for ever, even the 
 Spirit of Truth.' — And immediately after, lest 
 
THE UNITARIAX. 115 
 
 they should mistake him, he adds, ' I will not 
 leave you comfortless, / "xill come to ijou' — By 
 which it is manifest, that he and the Comforter, 
 or Holy Spirit, are one. And as the Holy Ghost 
 has been proved to be God, and the Son, God, 
 these three are all one and the same God. 
 
 " As the Comforter, also, was to abide with 
 the Saviour's followers for ever, so does he 
 promise, that he will be with them always, * even 
 unto the end of the world.' Add to which, the 
 dreadftil punishment denounced against blas- 
 pheming the Holy Ghost. And that the Apostles 
 looked upon him as God, is clear, fi'oni that 
 saying recorded of St. Peter to Ananias, when 
 he reproved him for having attempted to lie 
 unto, or deceive, the Holy Ghost, which he 
 termed * a lying unto God.' " 
 
 " And now. Doctor," said ]Mr. Hawke, " as 
 we are just upon entering the town, be so kind 
 as to make your argument as short as you can, 
 by explaining to me your last consideration." 
 The Doctor continued. 
 
 " As, then, these three are respectively and 
 individually God, so are they all one. This we 
 learn from a text applied by Isaiah as the words 
 
11.6 THE UNITARIAN. 
 
 of God, by Christ to himself, and by St. Peter 
 to the Holy Ghost. And, moreover, Jesus, 
 when speaking of the Comforter, which he had 
 alleged to be the same as himself, said, ' If a 
 man love me, he will keep my words ; and my 
 Father will love him, and xve (that is, the Com- 
 forter, Jesus, and the Father,) will come unto 
 hini, and make our abode with him.' And, 
 lastly, the command of Christ to his disciples, 
 diat they should go and ' teach all nations, and 
 baptize them in the name of the Father, and the 
 Son, and the Holy Ghost,' is another evidence 
 incontrovertible, not only of the Trinity, but of 
 the unity and co-equality of it. This, also, is 
 further evidenced by the Apostle's benediction, 
 in which these three are all put on a level ; and 
 as they are all equally used and connected in 
 the form of baptism, which is a dedication to 
 God, these three must be one God. But how 
 they are united it is beyond the power of man 
 to comprehend. It is enough for him to be 
 convinced of his own inability to understand 
 his own nature, and what is manifest in the 
 works of nature daily before his eyes. Let this, 
 then, make him humble : and, above all, cause 
 
THE UNITARIAN. 117 
 
 him to be circumspect, that he become not an 
 idolater, ' by setting up his idols in his heart, 
 and putting the stumbling-block of his iniquity 
 before his face,' which all those most assuredly 
 do, who fashion the image of God after their 
 own understanding, and give him a fonn, a 
 shape, and nature, suited to their own gross 
 comprehensions." 
 
 They had now reached the towm, when Mr. 
 Hawke, making a stand, — 
 
 " Doctor," said he, " I am under the neces- 
 sity of leaving you here, as I have an engage- 
 ment which takes me from the direction in 
 which you are proceeding ; believe me, I speak 
 with sincerity, when I say that I am likely to 
 derive essential benefit from our interestinir dis- 
 cussion this evening ; and when I have reflected 
 more upon it, I may probably trouble you to 
 enter upon it again, not as a matter of curiosity 
 or idle speculation, but as most important to 
 the comfort and satisfaction of my mind ; for I 
 assure you I highly appreciate your feelings 
 towards me." So saying, he shook hands and 
 departed. 
 
 The Rector, upon reaching home, ordered 
 
118 THE UNITARIAN. 
 
 tea in his library, and sat for some time drink- 
 ing it in the silent enjoyment of his own reflec- 
 tions. He pondered much on the conversation 
 which had passed in his way to the town, and 
 like most men upon such occasions, now thought 
 of arguments which he might more strongly 
 have adduced to serve his purpose, but he con- 
 tented himself with the intention of advancing 
 them upon the next opportunity that offered 
 itself. From the contemplation of this, his 
 mind reverted to the poor man's funeral which 
 he had attended ; there was something that had 
 made a deeper impression upon him than usual. 
 The plain simplicity and calmness of a village- 
 burial had powerfully struck his feelings. The 
 slow tolling of the rustic bell — the quiet pre- 
 paration of the venerable clerk for the due 
 reception of the living and the dead — the pic- 
 turesque appearance of the unsabled mourners, 
 following slowly the corpse through the windings 
 of the lanes in the valley below; in short, every 
 thing appeared so quiet, so natural, and so un- 
 ostentatious, so unlike what he daily witnessed in 
 his own parish, where there was such a constant 
 attempt at idle show, such an evident display of 
 
THE UNITARIAN. 119 
 
 vain pomp and empty pageantry, that he could 
 not be insensible to the contrast. Besides all 
 this, he had been struck with the air of serious- 
 ness which fell upon the spectators, among 
 whom such occurrences were uncommon ; such 
 a dead stillness among the hearers, as they sat 
 listening to the solemn service, and gazing upon 
 the bier placed before them. These things 
 crowded upon his mind, and disposed him to 
 serious reflection ; and that he might give way 
 to such mental enjoyment, he drew from his 
 bookcase his large quarto prayer-book, and read 
 again, and pondered upon the beauties of the 
 semce. As he turned to the concluding page, 
 he found a printed paper which had been long 
 placed there, containing a poetical paraphrase of 
 St. Paul's epistle, which he had himself formerly 
 written as a college exercise. Of all writing, 
 that surely is the most difficult which aims at 
 clothing the Scriptures in language more beau- 
 tiful than that in which they are already clad; 
 and no attempt of this nature can well be suc- 
 cessful ; yet, as the Doctor's mind was absorbed 
 hi the subject, he could not refrain from correct- 
 ing this effusion of his earlier days, that he 
 might bring it still closer to its original, and by 
 
120 THE UNITARIAN. 
 
 that means give it the reflection of the only 
 beauty of which it was susceptible. 
 
 From the low grave has Christ now rais'd his head 
 To tow'r in heav'n — the first-fruits of the dead ; 
 For since by man's transgression death was giv'n, 
 By man, salvation was redeem'd in heav'n : 
 For as through Adam all men death derive, 
 E'en so in Christ shall all be made alive. 
 But each in order — to the kindred skies 
 The first-fruits, Christ — then shall his faithful rise. 
 Next comes the end, when he in judgment-hour, 
 (Heaven, earth, and hell, and mightiness and power, 
 First subject to his universal sway,) 
 Shall at the Father's feet his sceptre lay ; 
 For not till all shall own his strength divine, 
 Shall he the empire of the world resign : 
 Ev'n death, the last, the mightiest foe of all. 
 To crown his triumph, shall his arm enthrall. 
 But when the Prophet sang — " That Christ must 
 
 reign, 
 " Till all his foes beneath his feet be slain ;" 
 He did not mean, by this supreme command, 
 That God was govern'd by Messiah's hand : 
 For he himself eflPected this defeat. 
 And Laid the foe beneath Messiah's feet. 
 
 And when all things shall be subdued to God, 
 The Son, as man, shall answer at his nod ; 
 Before his presence ev'ry power must fall. 
 That God, the Father, may be God in all! 
 
THE UNITARIAN. ' 121 
 
 Else what shall they, who, in their earliest youth, 
 Have died to testify this glorious truth ; 
 What great reward have they reserved in store, 
 If from the grave the dead shall rise no more ? 
 Where's the inducement that can lead them still, 
 By such a faith, to seek for such an ill ? 
 And if 'tis false, that we again shall rise, 
 Why should we sufferings for ourselves devise ? 
 
 I swear, by all the joy my soul can give, 
 WTiich your belief in Christ has made to live, 
 That preaching doctrines of a future state, 
 Threatens me daily with a murder'd fate. 
 
 If, when at Ephesus, this truth I gave, 
 That Christ shall raise all mortals from the grave, 
 And the vile custom of the barb'rous age 
 Compell'd wild beasts to fight me in their rage, 
 What aid, what comfort, could such sufferings give. 
 Unless 'twere true — that all the dead shall live ? 
 Those sad delusive dreams were surely best, 
 Which lull the thoughtless to oblivious rest ; 
 " Live while we may, to-morrow seals our doom, 
 " And nought but darkness lies beyond the tomb." 
 Be not deceived ! — Communications vain. 
 Taint e'en the purest with corruption's stain. 
 Awake from sin ! — Arise from fancy's dream ; 
 Let — " Christ now risen" — be your constant theme : 
 If this great truth your ignorance deny. 
 Know, that your blindness veils the Deity. 
 He who created can revive the frame — 
 Oh, think on this ! and hide your heads with shanie ! 
 
 VOL. I. Cr 
 
122 THE UNITARIAN. 
 
 But some will say — How can the dead arise, 
 And be transported to the farther skies ? 
 But if the future can the past revise, 
 What kind of body from the grave shall rise? 
 What fools are ye to urge such vain disputes ! 
 Nature, the hand of God, your words refutes. 
 The seed thou sow'st decays within the earth 
 Before the plant is quicken'd to its birth ; 
 And what thou sow'st, is not that body sown 
 Which shall appear when all the plant is grown ; 
 No ; 'tis bare grain, without a stalk or blade, 
 Which nature fashions to a verdant glade ; 
 But a new body God is pleased to give 
 To ev'ry proper seed he makes to live. 
 
 Again, the power of God is well defin'd 
 In various bodies of the carnal kind : 
 All flesh is not the same — for flesh of man 
 Experienced change, when that of beasts began ; 
 To various species, various kinds were given, 
 As well to fishes as the fowls of heav'n. 
 
 But this exalted pow'r is clearer found. 
 In all the planetary system round ; 
 Nor is it less to be discern'd on earth, 
 In bodies springing from terrestrial birth. 
 Celestial orbs a difF'rent nature own, 
 To the dark substance of an earthly stone. 
 The glorious sun exceeds in dazzling light 
 The paler lustre of the orb of night ; 
 And yet the moon a brighter light appears 
 Than that which twinkles from the lesser spheres. 
 
THE UNITARIAN. 123 
 
 So shall the souls comeforth from death's dark night; 
 But each endow'd with difTrent shades of light. 
 
 And though that body, in sepulchral gloom, 
 Was made a prey to reptiles of the tomb, 
 Yet when reviv'd, corruption shall restore 
 Its crumbling wealth — for death shall be no more ! 
 
 And though that body was by death disgraced, 
 And mortal sin its mortal frame defaced, 
 Yet when reviv'd, dishonour shall restore 
 Its former ^race — for death shall be no more ! 
 
 o 
 
 And though that body was in weakness sown, 
 And age and sickness mark'd it for their own, 
 Yet when reviv'd, disease shall then restore 
 Its active pow'rs — for death shall be no more! 
 
 And though that body was by nature driv'n, 
 By carnal wants to seek supplies from heav'n. 
 Yet when reviv'd, God shall himself restore 
 Its heav'nly soul — for death shall be no more ! 
 
 In these two stages of existing fate, 
 God shall make perfect man's intended state ; 
 For though on earth a nat'ral frame was given, 
 It shall be spir'tual in the realms of heav'n. 
 So thus 'tis written : — Man derives his birth 
 From the first Adam's life-existing earth ; 
 WTiose carnal body with the soul combin'd, 
 Sustain'd his being, and upheld his mind : 
 But the last Adam, who the Just inspires 
 With spir'tual bodies, and divine desires. 
 Was made a spirit which shall soon revive 
 Their sleeping dust, to save their souls alive. 
 
 G 2 
 
124 THE UNITARIAN. 
 
 Still be it known, what truth cannot disguise. 
 That mortal bodies first in order rise : 
 Then comes the second, to prepare the soul, 
 To meet that Being who shall make it whole. 
 The first man, Adam, had his mortal birth 
 From the mere substance of this lower earth ; 
 The second man — the Lord from yonder skies, 
 Did from the essence of the Spirit rise. 
 As Adam was^ when sin contriv'd his fall, 
 Just so the wicked shall appear to all ; 
 And as Christ is, now perfect and divine. 
 So shall the glory of the righteous shine : 
 For as they bore man's earthly form below, 
 The best adapted to this world of woe, 
 So shall they wear that heav'nly form of love, 
 The better suited to the joys above ! — 
 Brothers and men ! — By yonder Heav'n, I swear 
 No mortal body can inherit there ; 
 For how shall aught, defiled by earth's alloy, 
 Bliss incorruptible in Heav'n enjoy ? 
 Behold '. a secret truth I now foredoom : 
 Some righteous bodies shall not see the tomb, 
 But when confusion shall the world derange, 
 These bodies Christ shall in an instant change ; 
 Or, ere the eye can twinkle — when the sound 
 Of the last trump shall life dispense around — 
 And they who live in that appalling hour. 
 Shall change their nature, and exalt their power ; 
 Corruptive bodies must that day put on 
 The undefiled garb of incorruption — 
 And those now mortal must that moment be 
 Array'd in splendid immortality. 
 
THE UNITARIAN. 125 
 
 So, when corruption shall be deck'd by fate, 
 
 In incorruption's everlasting state, 
 
 And this, now mortal, shall at once display, 
 
 Immortal splendour and immortal sway. 
 
 The Prophet's words shall then accomplish'd be — 
 
 That " Death is swallowed up in victory I'' — 
 
 Freed from disease, the perfect then shall sing, 
 
 " Where is thy vict'ry, grave ; where, death, thy 
 
 sting ?" 
 The sting of death is sin, the only pain 
 The darts of death can bring upon the slain ; 
 For by the poison of this fatal sting. 
 The law brought curses on its mortal wing. — 
 For ever blest be that Almighty God, 
 Who conquer'd these by his correcting rod, 
 For sin and death, the grave and legal curse, 
 Our blessed Lord shall vanquish and disperse. 
 Therefore, my brethren, since ye now are led 
 To know that Christ will surely raise the dead, 
 And that the righteous, in the realms above, 
 Shall be rewarded with immortal love ; 
 Be firm, be steadfast, in that sound belief, 
 For future joy shall crown all present grief. 
 Here, then, on earth, the works of God maintain ; 
 For know, such labour shall not be in vain. 
 
 G 3 
 
126 
 
 THE CLERICAL CONFERENCE. 
 
 Dr. Freeman, ft-om the extent of his parish 
 and the multiplicity of its duties, had always 
 required the assistance of a Curate ; and of all 
 his clerical arrangements, that of procuring an 
 assistant, whose views and sentiments accorded 
 with his own, was the most difficult to one, who, 
 in his situation, felt called upon to make such 
 a choice, as, while it should satisfy himself, 
 should be no less pleasing to the parish at large. 
 None can know, but those similarly circum- 
 stanced, how great is the difficulty to effect this 
 sort of professional junction ; because, in large 
 towns, where the population is extensive, and the 
 parochial duties unceasing, and where the in- 
 come is generally very limited, men, in any sort 
 of independent circumstances, will not engage 
 where so much is required of them ; and where, 
 after all, they can obtain no greater remuner- 
 ation than they meet with in places unencum- 
 bered by weekly duties, and where the services 
 
THE CLERICAL CONFERENCE. 127 
 
 of the Sabbath require but a very moderate 
 degree of exertion. This statement may be 
 thought to convey an imputation of a want of 
 zeal and energy upon the inferior clergy ; but it 
 is a natm*al consequence ; for men, for the most 
 part, in every profession, prefer the easier to the 
 more laborious pursuits of life, particularly when 
 there is no stimulus in the shape of advantage 
 to be derived from the exchange. There is, 
 however, another and a better reason to be as- 
 signed for this apparently unzealous preference; 
 and it lies in this, that the clergy who act as 
 Curates in the country, live at less expense than 
 those in towns ; that they are more at leisure to 
 indulge, either in the pursuits of literature, or 
 in those of a healthier, though perhaps less use- 
 ful nature; while they are removed from the 
 confinement, the unwholesomeness, the noise 
 and distractions of a thickly-inhabited town. 
 These are the circumstances which operate to 
 prevent men of any tolerable resources, and 
 who have been enabled to pass through an 
 academical career, from entering upon charges 
 burdened with duties of high responsibility; and 
 thus they leave the field for the occupation of 
 others whose habits of life and education have 
 
 G 4 
 
128 THE CLERICAL CONFERENCEr 
 
 been different, and whose worldly views have 
 been bounded by more confined limits. Dr. 
 Freeman, therefore, like many other Town 
 Rectors, was obliged to have recourse to some 
 person whose abilities had carried him with cre- 
 dit through some good provincial school, and 
 who had followed up his acquisitions there by 
 persevering industry and the application of his 
 own unassisted talents. But this was not all ; 
 for in the event of lighting even upon such a 
 person as this, it was essential for him- not 
 merely to ascertain that a reciprocity of reli- 
 gious sentiments and opinions existed, but that 
 he had a clear and sonorous voice, calculated to 
 fill the ample space which the walls of his 
 church circumscribed ; that he was pleasing in 
 his outward appearance, for this he knew by ex- 
 perience to be an essential qualification ; that his 
 style of composition and delivery was correct ; 
 that he had a strong feeling for the sacred func- 
 tions of his office ; that he was patient ; that he 
 was conciliatory ; that he was humble, and that 
 he was vitally religious. 
 
 Such a character he had the good fortune to 
 meet with in the person of Mr. Deacon, a young 
 man of plain and unassuming manners, of strong 
 
THE CLERICAL CONFERENCE. 129 
 
 sense, extensive reading, and comprehensive in- 
 tellect. Although ordained upon the title which 
 the Doctor had given him, he entered into the 
 service with great address, aided by the con- 
 sciousness that he was both able and desirous to 
 discharge, to the best of his power, the service 
 on which he had entered ; and though his first 
 discourse was delivered before a crowded con- 
 gregation, he betrayed no symptoms of fear, at 
 the same time that he exhibited no tincture of 
 arrogance or self-sufficiency. Well might the 
 Doctor be gratified by such an acquisition ; he 
 who ever held it as most derogatory and unbe- 
 coming, in any person who had undertaken the 
 ministry of the church, to entertain ill-ground- 
 ed apprehensions of presenting himself be 
 fore any congregation. He considered it as 
 one of the worst features of the clergy, that 
 many of them engage in a profession, the 
 duties of which they hesitate to discharge in an 
 open assembly of the church, from a vain, ner- 
 vous, and unbecoming fear of addressing a large 
 or enlightened body of worshippers. — " If," 
 he would say, " men can conscientiously think 
 themselves called upon to enter as labourers 
 in the Christian vineyard, they ought to quahfy 
 
 G 5 
 
130 THE CLERICAL CONFERENCE. 
 
 themselves for their employment, whether in 
 tilUng a small part, or in assisting to cultivate 
 the whole soil. It is the want of this feeUng 
 which causes many of our enemies to censure 
 our established clergy, for a man is surely bound 
 to perform his services to the extent of his 
 powers ; and though all have not the same gift, 
 yet all are enabled to use and exert such means 
 as have been afforded them." 
 
 Mr. Deacon, in the exercise of his good sense, 
 had made up for want of experience, by adher- 
 ing to the friendly advice of his Rector, and the 
 parishioners had ever been ready to look favour- 
 ably upon one who made every exertion to be 
 serviceable to them. A wise regulation had 
 been adopted by Dr. Freeman for tlie due and 
 regular performance of every parochial duty on 
 his institution, which had been attended with 
 satisfaction to every party concerned : he had 
 arranged stated periods in every day for the at- 
 tendance of himself or his Curate at his church, 
 and having publicly notified his plan, it was 
 very soon and easily established ; he further ar- 
 ranged that he and his Curate should share 
 equally the labours of their ministry, by which 
 means a moderate intervention of leisure was 
 
THE CLERICAL CONFERENCE. 131 
 
 afforded to both : and, thus, as in all other 
 cases, a methodical arrangement and a punctual 
 attendance to it lessen and facilitate the most 
 laborious employments of life. In this manner 
 had the Doctor and his assistant been engaged 
 for some years, during which a mutual con- 
 fidence and feeling existed, which, as they 
 tended to remove all distinction between them, 
 excited in the breast of the parishioners an 
 equal respect for the one and the other. 
 
 It happened, as they were engaged in a well- 
 contested game of chess, which had commenced 
 with the dessert after dinner at the Rectory, that 
 the servant brought in a message from some 
 gentlemen who were then in the hall, desiring 
 earnestly to speak with the Doctor for a few 
 minutes; upon which they were instantly re- 
 quested to walk in. There now presented 
 themselves a clergj'man of the immediate neigh- 
 bourhood, attended by two other divines, and 
 two respectable laymen, who were forthwith fur- 
 nished with chairs, and as soon as seated were 
 interrogated as to the object of their visit. 
 
 " Dr. Freeman," said the Rev. Mr. Wiseman, 
 '• I ought to apologize for intruding upon you 
 at this unseasonable hour, but I trust you will 
 
 G 6 
 
132 THE CLERICAL CONFERENCE. 
 
 excuse it when I state the nature of our business 
 to be urgent. Give me leave, Sir, to introduce 
 to you these gentlemen, the Rev. Mr. Peachem 
 and Mr. Africanus, who, as members of a com- 
 mittee of the Church Missionary Society, now 
 call upon you to request the favour of your 
 lending your pulpit for one Sunday to preach a 
 charity-sermon for the benefit of that Institution. 
 Permit me, also, to introduce the Rev. Mr. 
 Isaacs and Mr. Levi, who attend upon this 
 occasion to request the further indulgence, that 
 your pulpit may be given up upon the evening 
 of the same day, for a similar sermon for the 
 benefit of the Society for the Conversion of the 
 Jews. We are of opinion, that, in a parish of 
 such wide extent, both appeals to the pa- 
 rishioners would meet with considerable suc- 
 cess ; and that the institutions in question would 
 have reason to thank you for the permission we 
 now wait upon you to solicit." 
 
 " Gentlemen," replied the Doctor, with his 
 usual temper and firmness, " this' is a request 
 which I am sorry, fi'om the very nature of it, I 
 must decidedly refuse. In the first place, I 
 never have sanctioned, nor shall I find myself 
 inclined to encourage, a system which I think 
 
THE CLERICAL CONFERENCE. 133 
 
 derogatory to our profession, and of infinite de- 
 triment to our parishioners ; I mean that of 
 suffering a succession of stranger preachers to 
 take possession of our pulpits, for the purpose 
 of extracting from the congregation money to 
 be applied to foreign objects ; or for the still 
 less worthy purpose of raising attention by the 
 stratagem of novelty, and by administering ex- 
 citement to ' itching ears.' No, gentlemen ; ap- 
 pointed as I am to this responsible charge, I will 
 make use of the best faculties which God has 
 given me to discharge the several duties of it, 
 or if unable to perform them myself, it has been 
 my aim and my good fortune to select an able 
 man as my permanent representative ; and thus 
 constituted we still stand our ground. If our 
 parishioners, caught by the errors of modern 
 innovation, desire change of ministers, that they 
 may find food for idle and ill-placed criticism, 
 or for the gratification of their curiosity, they 
 may seek it elsewhere ; the obligations upon us 
 are plain, and those binding upon others with 
 whom we are spiritually connected are not less 
 imperious. In the next place, if our congrega- 
 tions can be excited only at the instance of stran- 
 gers to yield up their charity, which they would 
 
134" THE CLERICAL CONFERENCE. 
 
 refuse at the intercession of their regularly au- 
 thorised ministers, this is a weakness of which 
 I would both fain spare them the confession and 
 conceal it from the world. There are circum- 
 stances, I admit, which make it necessary for 
 persons in my situation to solicit the aid of 
 neighbours and friends, when, for instance, I 
 am called upon year by year to plead the same 
 cause for the same institutions ; when it may be 
 easily conceived, that having expended my best 
 reasoning, and made the most powerful appeals 
 of which I am master, I have nothing further 
 to urge, and nothing more forcible to advance ; 
 in such a case, the assistance of my friends is 
 very desirable, as it becomes of greater ad- 
 vantage to my flock than to myself: but this 
 does not apply to the admission of strangers, 
 those itinerary preachers, I had almost said, 
 those importunate public beggars, whose system 
 I so strongly deprecate." 
 
 " Well, Dr. Freeman," replied Mr. Wise- 
 man, " it is very far from our intention to offer 
 you any offence, particularly when soliciting a 
 favour; would you yourself, or your Curate, 
 oblige us by taking the cause of these institu- 
 tions into your own hands ? It is true, these 
 
THE CLERICAL CONFERENCE. 135 
 
 gentlemen are prepared for these purposes, 
 because they think it too much to ask the 
 clergy for the use of their pulpits, and the ex- 
 ercise of their talents at the same time ; besides 
 which, they are in possession of facts and cir- 
 cumstances that cannot fail to excite great 
 interest in the hearers, and which lie beyond 
 the reach and knowledge of the generality of 
 our profession." 
 
 " I am sorry again," replied the Doctor, 
 " to say, that neither can we comply with this, 
 and that the denial is grounded upon the 
 strongest reasons. To speak plainly, gentle- 
 men, I consider the Church Missionary Society 
 to be chiefly supported by that part of our 
 clergy from most of whose sentiments I greatly 
 differ ; that it assumes a character to which it 
 can lay no just claim, of being exclusively as- 
 sociated with the Church, when, in fact, it is 
 connected with all parties and principles but 
 those of the establishment; and what is more 
 to the point, I have not that opinion of the 
 necessity and benefits of the Institution to make 
 it a subject upon which I could conscientiously 
 expatiate: I would infinitely rather send the 
 amount of any expected contribution out of my 
 
136 THE CLERICAL CONFERENCE. 
 
 own pocket to the ancient and venerable Society 
 for promoting Christian Knowledge on their 
 Missionary account, than endeavour to obtain 
 the same means from my parishioners, to be 
 applied in a manner which neither they nor I 
 approve. And the request, as it respects the 
 Institution for the Conversion of the Jews, is to 
 me less admissible; for I make no hesitation in 
 declaring myself on the subject of its utility 
 and the prospect of its ultimate benefit, perfectly 
 sceptical. I have never yet found, and I have 
 conversed with many, any Jew thus said to be 
 christianized, whom I could bring my mind to 
 look upon as a real convert at heart. Incited 
 by prospects of relief, and of temporal advan- 
 tage, many have declared themselves aposta- 
 tised ; but none or very few in truth have 
 changed their minds or sentiments, and those 
 few have adopted such notions of Christianity 
 as are, to me, unsatisfactory. No : when this 
 great alteration is about to take place, it must 
 be attended by means far exalted above the or- 
 dinary wit and contrivance of man. On these 
 several grounds, gentlemen, without the bias 
 of any narrow prejudices, and without wishing 
 to give the least offence, by what is only in- 
 
THE CLERICAL CONFERENCE. 137 
 
 tended for candour, you must excuse my com- 
 pliance with your desires on this occasion." 
 
 " Dr. Freeman, you must be aware," con- 
 tinued Mr. Wiseman, " that in soliciting the 
 favours we have proposed, we are actuated by 
 no selfish or interested views : we have asked 
 as brother- Christians and brother-members of 
 the same church for your assistance to promote 
 a Christian work, and if you feel disposed to 
 withhold your co-operation, we have both dis- 
 charged our relative duties. It is not for me to 
 canvass or to attempt to controvert your prin- 
 ciples of action, though I must confess that to 
 me they appear capable of a full confutation." 
 
 " Well, Sir, if such be your opinion, to con- 
 vince you that I am neither intolerant nor bi- 
 goted to my own principles, if you have leisure, 
 I shall be glad if you and these gentlemen will 
 give me the pleasure of your company for an 
 hour or two, and I will order another bottle of 
 wine for your refreshment." 
 
 " If," said Mr. Wiseman, " we are not en- 
 croaching too much upon you, as I believe we 
 are none of us immediately engaged; and if 
 you will substitute tea for wine, we shall be 
 happy to accept your offer." 
 
138 THE CLERICAL CONFERENCE. 
 
 Upon this the table was cleared, hats and 
 great coats were deposited, tea was ordered, 
 and the party drew around the fire. 
 
 " Now, Dr. Freeman," resumed Mr. Wise- 
 man, " it was my intention to have stated to 
 you, in the event of your granting our request, 
 that I believe there is a little difference in reli- 
 gious sentiments between us, if I may judge 
 from what I have heard of your preaching, and 
 what I have seen of your writings. The fact is, 
 I freely avow that I am an Evangelical Preacher, 
 — a distuiction to which I believe you lay no 
 claim." 
 
 " Then give me leave to inform you, Mr. 
 Wiseman," replied the Doctor, " that though 
 it is true we do not arrogate to ourselves such a 
 title, yet we profess to be no other in word 
 and deed than evangelical, and, perhaps, we 
 are as much entitled to it by our humility, as 
 others are by their high-blown pretensions. 
 Pardon me, I mean no offence, I mean nothing 
 personal ; but I confess it is with difficulty that 
 I can restrain my feelings, when I find people 
 by their professions lowering us, that they may 
 rise the higher themselves ; which I consider 
 they do, who presume upon distinctions which 
 
THE CLERICAL CONFERENCE. 139 
 
 they withhold from their brethren. I declare, 
 Sir, there is nothing that we professedly teach, 
 either in pubhc or in private, but we deduce 
 from the Scriptures ; and our exhortations uni- 
 formly spring from the Gospel, or from some 
 thing vitally connected with it. For my own 
 part, I can always conscientiously say and think 
 with the Apostle, ' Woe be to me if I preach 
 not the Gospel !' " 
 
 " That is all very well," continued Mr. 
 Wiseman, " and I do not doubt but that you 
 faithfully discharge your manifold duties ; but. 
 Sir, you must pardon me if I differ with you in 
 thinking that the discussion of moral duties, and 
 moral obligations, which form the chief topics 
 of exhortation with so great a proportion of the 
 clergy, does not constitute gospel-preaching, 
 and, therefore, falls materially short of true 
 evangelism." 
 
 " That I deny, Mr. Wiseman," repHed the 
 Doctor, " because, constituted as we are, so 
 frail and fallible, it is most essential to hold 
 forth the necessity for the strict performance of 
 all those obligations to do good, and to exter- 
 minate evil, which we are called upon to per- 
 
14-0 THE CLERICAL CONFERENCE. 
 
 form, to render ourselves worthy, through the 
 merits of Christ, of a final redemption ; and was 
 not this the direct object of our Saviour's per- 
 sonal ministry ? Did he not repeatedly declare 
 that he came to fulfil the Law, both the Cere- 
 monial (which he did in his own person) and 
 the Moral, by his strict observance of it, for it 
 thus ' became him to fulfil all righteousness.' 
 And was it not the object of all his exhortations 
 to call men by repentance and amendment of 
 life, to fulfil the conditions of salvation which 
 he, by his gospel, imposed upon mankind? 
 Preaching Morality, therefore, is preaching the 
 Gospel, and, indeed, a most essential part of it, 
 since it is by faith and obedience jointly that 
 we can comply with the terms of it. All the 
 Morality too, which we preach, is not for the 
 gratification or pride of man, but to set forth 
 that which distinguishes Christian, from Philo- 
 sophical, Morality — ' the Glory of God.' " 
 
 " Yes, Dr. Freeman," said Mr. Peachem, 
 " we admit that cautions against the commission 
 of sin are necessary to be held out to our con- 
 gregations ; but these would be rendered in a 
 great measure unnecessary, by a zealous en- 
 
THE CLERICAL CONFERENCE. 141 
 
 forcement of the operation of faith alone, which 
 would of itself produce all the effects at which 
 you aim, and others still more beneficial." 
 
 " Permit me to observe," said Mr. Deacon, 
 " that the charge of preaching MoraUty, and 
 Morality only, is unjustly laid against us : our 
 discourses are equally directed towards instilling 
 a belief in the doctrines of Christianity. We 
 commonly urge one as much as the other ; and 
 I am bold to aver, that we never separate '^ good 
 will to men from Glory to God,' neither enforce 
 the practice of good works but as they are 
 fruits of the Spirit, the result and evidence of 
 that lively faith which, alone, distinguishes the 
 true Christian." 
 
 " Here, again, we differ," replied Mr. 
 Peachem. *' I admit that you are necessarily 
 bound frequently to enforce the leading doctrines 
 of Christianity, because a firm belief in the truth 
 of the Scriptures depends upon them : but those 
 to which I more particularly allude, are such as 
 have an especial respect to the life and conduct 
 of our hearers, and have such a vital effect upon 
 them, as to produce all the fruits which it is the 
 object of the Gospel of Jesus to ehcit. This, in 
 fact, is a short method of arriving at that conclu- 
 
142 THE CLERICAL CONFERENCE. 
 
 sion which you aim to produce by more comph- 
 cated means. You preach up the necessity of a 
 belief of Revelation, and half your exertions 
 are devoted to show that salvation is the reward 
 of such a belief. You then enforce the neces- 
 sity of obedience to the laws of the Gospel, 
 which you say are the conditions of salvation ; 
 then you blend these together, and call it the 
 Religion of the Gospel. Now our method is 
 plainer, and more direct. We take it for 
 srranted that the truth of Revelation is admitted 
 bv all, and we preach the straight-forward, 
 awakening doctrines of Scripture, which have 
 the simple effect of establishing faith, and mak- 
 ing men serious and devout Christians. For 
 example, take the doctrine of justification. Now 
 you must allow that no man can be justified by 
 works, because the best of them are imperfect, 
 but, as St. Paul says, ' by faith only^ " 
 
 " But let me ask," interrupted the Doctor, 
 " is faith never weak and imperfect ?" 
 
 '' Yes," resumed Mr. Peachem, " it is fre- 
 quently both ; still man cannot rely upon works, 
 which are the cause, nor upon faith ; but upon 
 the principle of faith, which, alone, constitutes 
 the means of justification. Saint Paul, when he 
 
THE CLERICAL CONFERENCE. 143 
 
 speaks of justification by faith only, speaks of it 
 as it regards God ; St. James, when he affirms 
 it to be the result of works, speaks of it as it 
 regards man." 
 
 " Permit me," said Mr. Deacon, " to say 
 that this is a very unsatisfactory^ account of the 
 matter, which is capable of a much easier, a 
 more rational, and a more scriptural elucid- 
 ation. If you would see the subject in all its 
 bearings, and illustrated in the most evident 
 manner, take up a volume lately published by a 
 rerj' learned Divine, and you will find that 
 having scrutinized it accuratelv, he comes to 
 this clear conclusion : — The Jews, and Gentiles, 
 who had been converted to Christianity by St. 
 Paul, conceived that their justification was to 
 be effected by the mere act of faith ; by a belief 
 of salvation by Jesus Christ ; and, consequently, 
 seeing no necessity for taking any pains to be- 
 come good, they fell into the commission of 
 complicated sin. St. James, to correct this 
 gross mistake, declared, in contradistinction and 
 not in refutation of St. Paul, that justification is 
 in the first instance by faith, but finally ensured 
 by good works. Both Apostles, though here 
 
144 THE CLERICAL CONFERENCE. 
 
 speaking of the same thing, speak of it in different 
 respects. St. Paul, principally addressing him- 
 self to the Gentiles, tells them that they are to be 
 justified by being now baptized into the religion of 
 Jesus, and by implicitly believing him to be their 
 Redeemer and Saviour. St. James, speaking to 
 the congregations already converted and bap- 
 tized, tells them their justification will be the 
 result of their good works. So that St. Paul 
 speaks of a^?st justification, which takes place 
 at baptism; St. James of that j/f^ia/ justification 
 which is to take place at the day of judgment. 
 St. Paul's has reference only to this life; St. 
 James's to another : the one refers to things pre- 
 sent and temporal ; the other to things future and 
 eternal : the one is by faith only, the last will de- 
 pend on works ; for ' God will render unto every 
 man according to his deeds ; for there is no re- 
 spect of persons with God.' Now, is not this a 
 simple and rational view of the subject ? It is 
 not a new interpretation I know, but the author 
 to whom I allude has made it so by the masterly 
 manner in which he has analyzed all the writings 
 of St. Paul which bear upon this point, and has 
 shown that no other sense can be reconcileable 
 
THE CLERICAL CONFERENCE. 145 
 
 either to the intentions of that Apostle, or to 
 the doctrine which he has delivered. What, 
 Mr. Wiseman, do you say to this ?'* 
 
 '' Why, Sir," returned he, " as I have never 
 before considered the subject in this light, I 
 shall refrain from giving an opinion." 
 
 " Sir," said Dr. Freeman, " I think my 
 friend Mr. Deacon has made out a strong case, 
 and I doubt not but that he would be able to 
 meet any of the doctrines of Calvin with the 
 same success." 
 
 " Doctor," said Mr. Peachem, " you have 
 more than once surmised that we are rigid dis- 
 ciples of that great and learned Reformer. I 
 beg, therefore, so far to set you right as to 
 declare that we are, indeed, advocates of his 
 system in general, though we do not carry it to 
 the same lengths that he has done." 
 
 " You are then, gentlemen, what I sus- 
 pected you to be," replied the Doctor ; " that 
 is, according to modern phraseology, moderate 
 Calviiiists. Now, I confess, I prefer an open and 
 an avowed enemy to one who shows himself 
 so by halves. I do not understand the dis- 
 tinction, nor can I see how a preacher should 
 only be a Calvinist in pai't, particularly when I 
 
 VOL. I. H 
 
146 THE CLERICAL CONFERENCE. 
 
 generally find that it is through fear of creating 
 alarm that he conceals the horrors of Calvin's 
 tenets from the \ailgar eye ; for however he may 
 keep them out of sight, his principles have the 
 direct tendency to cling to the whole. Besides, 
 it is my firm belief, if that great man were 
 living, he would disown connection with those 
 who mutilated his system. But, indeed, you 
 must yourselves well know that it is not easy 
 to go along with him only to a certain distance, 
 without accompanying him to the place he is 
 going. If he compels you ' to go with him 
 one mile, you must even go twain.' You must 
 also excuse me. Gentlemen, when I declare it 
 to be my opinion, that the worst enemies which 
 our National Church has to encounter, are to be 
 found amongst those jn-ofessing to be her sons, 
 amongst those w^ho are undermining her found- 
 ations, under pretence of a zeal, which, I think, 
 outstrips knowledge — amongst those who arro- 
 gantly style themselves ' evangelical ;' assuming 
 a most invidious and untrue distinction, founded 
 on the notion of their exclusive preaching of 
 the Gospel, because they preach the tenets of 
 Calvin. These are the foes, who, under dis- 
 guise of relationship, breed dissension and 
 
THE CLERICAL CONFERENCE. 147 
 
 promote civil wars in the bosom of the state of 
 our Israel ; for such, without breach of charity, 
 I must esteem them. I quarrel not with open 
 Seceders or Sectarists, because they differ in 
 their creed with me; they are at liberty to 
 enjoy and to maintain their opinions equally 
 with myself; but, I own, I feel indignant, when 
 I perceive a part of our o\^ti body starting up 
 in direct opposition to the established opinions 
 of our Church, and then throwing contempt 
 upon the other, by designating them as non- 
 supporters of the Gospel ; which by implication 
 they do, when they exclusively declare them- 
 selves to be evancrelical. Gentlemen, vou will 
 think me, perhaps, rude for being thus warm, 
 particularly as you are strangers, and are now 
 under my roof. It is, however, far from me 
 to ffive vou offence: but I find it difficult to 
 restrain myself upon a subject which excites 
 my feelings with an earnestness beyond what, 
 perhaps, I ought here to manifest." 
 
 " Dr. Freeman," said Mr. Peachem, " we 
 take no offence ; for my own part, I like to see 
 a man evince feelings upon such a subject ; it is 
 one worthy of interest ; but, Sir, without ad- 
 -vancing further upon the discussion of doc- 
 
 H 2 
 
148 THE CLERICAL CONFERENCE. 
 
 trines, which does not seem to promise change 
 of sentiment in either party, let us look to the 
 fi'uits which spring from those which you main- 
 tain, and from those which we adopt. Look, 
 Sir, at our lives and conversation ; though we 
 are all frail creatures, do you commonly find 
 those of our persuasion implicated in the com- 
 mission of such crimes as continually stain 
 those who profess themselves of your belief? 
 Do you see the members of Calvinistic congre- 
 gations commonly arraigned before our Courts 
 of Law ? Do you meet with culprits and of- 
 fenders among them ? Are they not all of a 
 very different stamp ? You can answer these 
 questions well. Dr. Freeman ; for I understand 
 that you are a Magistrate, and, therefore, you 
 must have obsei'ved the fact." 
 
 " Upon my word," replied the Doctor, " it 
 is my firm belief that you are mistaken in the 
 matter altogether ; my observations have been 
 extensive, and you must give me leave to say, 
 what I am persuaded the bench of Magistrates 
 will also support, that the culprits and offenders 
 brought before them, are those that have little, 
 I might say, no religious principles at all. I 
 declare, also, that the lower orders of the 
 
THE CLERICAL CONFERENCE. 149 
 
 people, excited by your high pretensions, and 
 allured by the doctrines which you promulgate, 
 (for you must recollect that they are all in- 
 cluded in the number of those elect who can- 
 not fall from gi'ace,) are excited to unnatural 
 severity of conduct, and are certainly those not 
 commonly numbered among the public trans- 
 gressors ; but give me leave to add, neither are 
 those who attend with any degree of punctuality 
 to our exhortations, or those upon whom any 
 exhortations have any effect at all. No, Sir ; 
 you can gain nothing by having recourse to this 
 supposed criterion of religious merit; it makes 
 no more for you than for us." 
 
 *' I remember an instance direct upon the 
 subject," observed Mr. Deacon, " which oc- 
 curred in the last vear at York. It was that 
 of a man who was convicted for the murder of 
 his wife ; who, on being interrogated in private, 
 for the motive of so horrid a deed, replied, ' that 
 he was fated to do it, and could not help it.' 
 This man was member of a Calvinistic chapel." * 
 
 " Well," continued Mr. Wiseman, " sup- 
 
 * It was the case of William Thompson, of Hamley, near 
 Kirby INIoorside, Yorksliire ; a fact well known and well 
 remembered in that neighbourhood. 
 
 H 3 
 
150 THE CLERICAL CONFERENCE. 
 
 posing our conjectures upon this class of the 
 people to fail, what is the effect of our doctrines 
 upon the community at large ?' 
 
 " Why," replied Mr. Deacon, " the effect 
 is, that your adherents assume an austerity 
 •which is unnatural, and which is at enmity with 
 a perfect reconciliation to all within. They are 
 in a great measure unfitted for the cares, the 
 troubles, and the trials of life, in all of which 
 there is as much religion to be shown as in acts 
 of devotion. Men are placed in various situ- 
 ations, circumstances, and degrees by Provi- 
 dence, and it is as much a religious duty to 
 discharge these with cheerfulness, as it is to de- 
 dicate every seventh day to acts of solemn 
 worship." 
 
 " Well, then," said Mr. Wiseman, " how 
 do you reconcile your own tampering with 
 worldly amusements, pleasures, and recreations, 
 when, as the Ministers of the Gospel, you 
 ought to devote every moment of your time to 
 greater and more important objects, and when 
 it becomes you to set an example of piety and 
 solemnity more consistent with your sacred call- 
 ing ? You must remember that we found you 
 engaged in a manner not altogether correspond- 
 
THE CLERICAL CONFERENCE. 151 
 
 Ing with what we think essential to the charac- 
 ter of the Ministry." 
 
 " Sir," resumed the Doctor, *^ our views and 
 yours are at direct issue. We conscientiously 
 hold, not only that it is lawful to indulge in any 
 amusements which are in themselves harmless, 
 and which engender no evil propensities, but we 
 hold it essential to mix and to partake in what- 
 ever can rationally promote the enjoyments of 
 life. We find that we can exert ourselves the 
 better after a temporary relaxation. We find 
 that our thoughts vary by such interruptions, 
 and break out into suggestions more profitable 
 to ourselves and to others. We find that we 
 yield to the Almighty a homage, by evincing 
 ourselves happy in the situations in which he 
 has placed us. We consider that he may be as 
 efficiently, nay more earnestly served, by a 
 cheerful, than by a gloomy mind. We find it 
 necessary occasionally to turn the current of 
 our thoughts and actions into different channels, 
 that we may invigorate and fertilize the mental 
 soil more generally. And with respect to the 
 imputation of unprofitably employing our time 
 in the particular allusion to the game in which 
 
 H 4 
 
152 THE CLERICAL CONFERENCE. 
 
 you found Mr. Deacon and myself engaged, I 
 believe it is generally admitted that it has a ten- 
 dency to strengthen the mind ; that it has sug- 
 gested hints that have been employed with ad- 
 vantage by statesmen and heroes ; and I find 
 myself indebted for some useful reflections which 
 it has occasionally suggested to me. Indeed, 
 Mr. Wiseman, I consider that you and I have 
 now been engaged in something like a game of 
 chess ; for, with the assistance of my Curate as 
 a Queen, and the Divine whom he has quoted, 
 as a Bishop, I flatter myself that I have check- 
 mated you, though supported by your two 
 Reverend friends in the capacity of two Rooks, 
 and these two gentlemen as your two Pawns." 
 
 " Sir," rejoined Mr. Wiseman, " not know- 
 ing the game, I do not understand the applica- 
 tion of your remarks, and consequently cannot 
 appreciate the wit of them ; but leaving you to 
 the enjoyment of your imaginary conquest, I 
 beg leave finally to ask you, whether you are 
 now at all inclined to favour our request?" 
 
 At this moment the servant entered the room, 
 and stated to the Doctor that there were two 
 females in the hall who entreated his immedi- 
 
THE CLERICAL CONFERENCE. 153 
 
 ate aid, as a Magistrate, in a matter of conse- 
 quence. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said the Doctor to the strangers, 
 " will you permit me to leave you for a few 
 minutes under the protection of my friend and 
 Curate, Mr. Deacon? and before you have 
 finished your tea I will return, and then state 
 to you the insuperable objections I have against 
 permitting the object you soUcit ; which it is my 
 wish to do in a manner to convince you that I 
 have no desire to gratify illiberal prejudices, but 
 that I must do so as a real matter of conscience." 
 So saying, he left the room. 
 
 Mr. Levi now, turning to Mr. Deacon, gave 
 the subject of conversation another cast, by say- 
 ing, " I presume. Sir, the situation of Curate 
 here, in a place of so much duty, must be lu- 
 crative, if you are paid in proportion to your 
 labours ?" 
 
 " Sir," answered Mr. Deacon, " men in our 
 Church are not remunerated acccrdiner to the 
 quantum of duty which they perform, for, 
 generally speaking, where there is most to 
 do, the income of the Incumbent is less, and 
 consequently he is unable to afford any 
 
 H 5 
 
154< THE CLERICAL CONFERENCE. 
 
 thing more than the common stipend to his 
 assistant." 
 
 " I think," continued Mr. Levi, " it is a 
 great defect in your Establishment, that though 
 there are such ample revenues for the support 
 of your Ministiy, the greater part of them, and 
 those not uncommonly the most deserving, go 
 unrequited with any thing beyond a bare exist- 
 ence; and the defect is the more apparent, from 
 reflecting that not less than one-tenth part of 
 the produce of the land goes to the maintenance 
 of a priesthood, comprehending about an eigh- 
 tieth part of the nation at large." 
 
 " Sir," said Mr. Deacon, " I should have 
 expected that remark to have been made by any 
 other person, rather than by one whose name 
 imports him to be a Jew by birth, if not now 
 so by religion ; for you cannot but know that 
 under the Jewish theocracy, the priesthood, 
 which was of divine appointment, enjoyed a 
 revenue equal to one-fourth part of the entire 
 produce of the Holy Land, as well animal as 
 vegetable, though the service of the priests was 
 nothing in comparison with ours, and the 
 number of the priesthood about a fiftieth part 
 of the nation. The disparity was still greater 
 
THE CLERICAL CONFERENCE. 155 
 
 in favour of the Jews ; for though our church 
 has a claim to a tenth part of the produce of the 
 soil, yet it is admitted on all sides that in a very 
 few, if in any, instances is that proportion ob- 
 tained : and out of this the clergy pay their just 
 and equal proportion of all national and pa- 
 rochial taxes." 
 
 " But,'* observed Mr. Africanus, " supposing 
 the matter to be thus, how infinitely better and 
 more just would it be, if the income of the whole 
 Church were equally divided amongst all the 
 clergy!" 
 
 " In this," said Mr. Deacon, " I should not 
 be at all disposed to join with you ; for though 
 eventually I might gain a small advantage, it 
 would be outbalanced by the loss which the 
 Church would upon the whole sustain." 
 
 " How that can possibly be the case," inter- 
 rupted Mr. Africanus, " I am quite at a loss to 
 conceive." 
 
 " Why," continued Mr. Deacon, " upon a 
 calculation which has been made with some 
 degree of accuracy, it has been found, by taking 
 the incomes of the Universities, then of the di"-- 
 nitaries of the Church, and those of the parochial 
 clergy, and by making an equal distribution of 
 
 H 6 
 
156 THE CLERICAL CONFERENCE. 
 
 the sum total among the Ministers of it, there 
 would only result to each, a sum not exceeding 
 170/. per annum. What then would be the 
 state of the priesthood ? By abolishing the dig- 
 nities and emoluments, both Church and State 
 would be sufferers, for where would be the 
 stimulus to excite emulation in the mind? 
 Withdraw these rewards, and what would be- 
 come of all that fund of intellectual treasures 
 which is now so copiously distributed by men 
 of superior talents, cultivated abilities, and ex- 
 emplary characters ? As well might you expect 
 to equalise the various ranks and members of 
 the Army or Navy." 
 
 " But," rejoined Mr. Africanus, " do men 
 of the greatest talents and worth generally suc- 
 ceed in obtaining the distmctions of which you 
 speak ? Do not these things commonly fall to 
 such as have greater interest than merit ?" 
 
 " I admit," replied Mr. Deacon, " that this 
 is too often, though not generally the case ; but 
 you are to remember that the Church is unable 
 to provide for all its Ministers; and as the greatest 
 part of them are meritorious, it follows as a ne- 
 cessary consequence, that much worth and much 
 merit must go unrequited ; still tliis is by no 
 
THE CLERICAL CONFERENCE. 157 
 
 means to be regarded either as an evil or as a 
 defect in the system, for this inequaUty is at- 
 tended with a benefit outweighing all its dis- 
 advantages." 
 
 The Doctor now returned, accompanied by 
 the two litigant females, who had called in his 
 aid. 
 
 " Here, Gentlemen," said he, " here is a case 
 which falls more into your province to rectify 
 than mine. Here are two women who live in 
 the immediate neighbourhood of each other, 
 both my parishioners, but who have left my 
 Church to attend another at a distance, where, 
 they say, the Gospel is preached. It appears 
 that there have been some high words between 
 them, and having proceeded from words to 
 blows, they now come for my interference. The 
 matter in dispute is this ; — Having quarrelled 
 about some trifling business " 
 
 " Please, your Worship," said one of them, 
 " 'twas not I that quarrelled, but she " 
 
 " That," said the other, " is not true 
 
 " Women," said the Doctor, " I insist upon 
 your silence; I will not have a word uttered 
 until you are called upon to do so. — Gentlemen, 
 these women, I say, having had a dispute upou 
 
158 THE CLERICAL CONFERENCE. 
 
 some temporal affair, must needs vent their 
 spleen in spiritual allusions. I repeat it ; they 
 both attend at the same place of worship, but in 
 the heat of their tempers, the one declares the 
 other not to be included, like herself, in the 
 number of the Elect, and, consequently, is a 
 Reprobate ; now this vile aspersion the other 
 cannot tolerate ; opprobrious terms follow, and 
 blows ensue. How am I to deal with them ? 
 What is it that you have to say for yourself, 
 Mrs.Gustall?" 
 
 '' Your Worship, the case is this : I set my 
 tub to catch rain-water, and when it is full, 
 and my back is turned, then comes neighbour 
 Scourem, and fills her pails with it. Seeing her 
 do the theft, I taxes her with it, and she 
 denies stealing, though I see her with ' my own 
 eyes.*' 
 
 " What say you to this, Mrs. Scourem ?" 
 " Why, your Worship, I had as much right 
 to set my pail where her tub was placed, as she 
 had, and it can't be called stealing, when the pro- 
 perty belongs to nobody ; and I told her if I 
 was a sinner, the rain fell upon the bad as well 
 as the good. But, your Worship, what right has 
 she to say that I am not one of the Elect ? I go 
 
THE CLERICAL CONFERENCE. 159 
 
 to the same Church, and we are all there 
 elected, no one being so more than another. 
 Then she accuses me of the most horrible 
 crimes, which she says I have committed ; and 
 if my hands are not so clean as others, I know 
 they are as much so as her's, for she has been a 
 notorious bad woman, and that she knows as 
 well as I do. But then, what does that argify, 
 if w^e are predestined to be saved, as the Minister 
 says we are ? What signify the filthy rags, if 
 we are made clean by grace ? But if I an't to 
 be of that number, but am to be a Reprobate, 
 why, your Worship, it is all up with me, and it 
 don't signify what I do ; but 'tis a hard thing 
 for a poor, helpless soul not to wish to live, and 
 to know when she dies she must be wholly lost ! 
 Isn't this enough, your Worship, to make any 
 body angry ? and so, you see, I only threw the 
 tub at her head, and now she is ready to murder 
 me !" 
 
 Mr. Wiseman now rose from his seat, and 
 taking his hat, while his friends were summoned 
 to do the same, addressed himself to the Doctor. 
 
 " We see. Doctor, that you are engaged, and 
 as we have some things necessary to be done 
 
160 THE CLERICAL CONFERENCE. 
 
 now, in the failure of our application to you, 
 you must excuse us." 
 
 They immediately left the room; but the 
 Doctor turning to the combatants, continued, — 
 
 " You unneighbourly and irreligious women, 
 I shall to-morrow bind you both over to keep the 
 peace, and I shall require of each of you one 
 good and sufficient surety to answer for your 
 good behaviour ; and I think you cannot do 
 better than get the clergyman, whose church 
 you attend, to stand your bail. — You may go !" 
 
 " Ah !" said Mrs. Gustall, w^eeping, " I wish 
 your Worship had spoken sentence before those 
 Gentlemen went out of the room ; for then I 
 could have asked Mr. Wiseman to stand surety 
 for us, as your Worship advises, for he is our 
 Minister /" 
 
161 
 
 THE LUNATIC ASYLUM. 
 
 It was on one of those days of Spring when 
 Nature puts on her freshest and most lively 
 verdure, and is animated by the glowing warmth 
 of the Sun, as he spreads his glories over the 
 world, that Dr. Freeman, having taken a longer 
 ride than usual, pulled up his horse to consider 
 whether he should proceed further or return 
 homeward, when his attention was arrested by 
 the appearance of a gentleman on horseback, 
 whose person he recognized without being able 
 immediately to remember who he was. As they 
 gradually approached, and each had instinct- 
 ively drawn off his right-hand glove, the Doctor 
 gave vent to his surprise, by exclaiming, — 
 
 " My dear friend, Goodall ! Is it possible 
 that I once again see you ? What, in the name 
 of curiosity, have you done with yourself for so 
 long a time ? and what brings you at last in this 
 direction, and this without my being acquainted 
 with the prospect and pleasure of seeing you ? 
 
162 THE LUNATIC ASYLUM. 
 
 Do give me some satisfactory account of your- 
 self, and of all that belong to you." 
 
 " My dear friend," said Mr. Goodall, in a 
 tone bespeaking unusual earnestness, " I am 
 now on my way to your house, having learnt 
 from a neighbour who attended your Church 
 last Sunday, that you were in residence at the 
 Rectory ; and it is my present intention to pass 
 a day or two with you, provided you are not 
 engaged, and will consent to put up with a visit 
 from one who brings unwelcome intelligence of 
 himself with him." 
 
 " It so happens," replied the Doctor, " that 
 I am perfectly disengaged, and am ready at all 
 times to listen with interest to any thing which 
 concerns your welfare." 
 
 Mr. Goodall now calling his groom, ordered 
 him to ride forward with his saddle-bags to 
 Dr. Freeman's house. 
 
 " And tell my servants," said the Doctor, 
 " that your master intends passing a day or two 
 at the Rectory." Then turning about to his 
 friend, he continued, '* I am concerned to ob- 
 serve, that you do not seem to possess your 
 usual good health ; I fear your ride has been 
 too fatiguing." 
 
THE LUNATIC ASYLUM. 163 
 
 " That, Doctor," said he with a sigh, " is, 
 unhappily, not the cause of the change which I 
 fear is too visible in me ; it is something greater 
 than mere weariness of body — something much 
 deeper than ordinary discomfiture ; it is," said 
 he, laying his hand upon the Doctor's arm, 
 " something that has woefully shaken the inner 
 man ; and I am come, my good friend, to open 
 my complaint to you, and to ask for advice by 
 what means I may endeavour to relieve it." 
 
 Durino; this time the Doctor's change of 
 countenance, and a slight nervous tremor, in- 
 dicated distress of mind, and he exclaimed — 
 " Goodall, for heaven's sake relieve me by 
 telling at once the occasion of this sudden altera- 
 tion — what, what can it be ?" 
 
 " The fact is," replied his friend, " my wife 
 and I have been throwTi into the deepest sorrow 
 by a heavy domestic affliction, which requires 
 the exercise of more religion and philosophy 
 to sooth than, I fear, either of us possesses. 
 You well know our daughter Kathrine !" and 
 here he stopt, — " she was our only child, our 
 only joy !" 
 
 " Alas ! alas !" ejaculated the Doctor ; " my 
 mind anticipates what you are struggling to 
 
164: THE LUNATIC ASYLU3I. 
 
 unfold; you need not distress yourself by a 
 further disclosure ; you mean me to understand 
 that she is no more !" 
 
 '' No," said he ; " no, she is not dead ; yet 
 I could almost think even that would be more 
 tolerable." 
 
 " Surely," said the Doctor, whose knitted 
 brows bespoke great distrust as to what he was 
 about to surmise, " surely you do not mean to 
 insinuate — but no, that is quite impossible; 
 Kathrine possessed a mind too virtuous and 
 pure to be sullied by any infatuated art of 
 degradation; she entertained sentiments too 
 noble and honourable, an affection too fixed, 
 sensibility too strong, to yield to any worldly 
 allurements, or to any unworthy temptation ! 
 but do relieve me !" 
 
 " God be thanked !" said Mr. Goodall, as he 
 raised his eyes, while burning and eloquent 
 tears rolled down his cheeks, " that sorrow was 
 never in reserve for us ; but we have to lament 
 — how, how shall I tell it ? we have to lament 
 that the poor sufferer has lost her reason ! You 
 shudder at what I say, but it is, indeed, too 
 true ; Kathrine is destitute of sense and reason ; 
 in short, she is neither more nor less than 
 
THE LUNATIC ASYLUM. 165 
 
 deranged ; and my wife too, she, she is nearly- 
 distracted !" — and here the sobs which had in- 
 terrupted him broke out into a flood of tears. 
 
 Women, whom nature has constituted with 
 minds capable of enduring with fortitude the 
 greatest bodily sufferings, and endowed with 
 such exquisite sensibility as to manifest a 
 weakness serving only to display the tenderness 
 of their minds, find relief in their afflictions by 
 giving a ready vent to their tears ; and as this 
 is frequent, so the effect becomes familiar : but 
 men, whose temperament is hardier, and whose 
 physical strength resists the ostensible manifest- 
 ation of their grief, make the most painful in- 
 ternal struggles without obtaining such relief; 
 when, therefore, they are moved to weep, the 
 effect of their tears spreads to those who witness 
 them, and excites the strongest sympathy. Such 
 was the case upon this occasion, when neither 
 of these friends could refrain from what they 
 made no attempt, and which it would not have 
 been possible for them, to conceal. The Doctor, 
 therefore, after an interval of silence, made no 
 reply; whilst the other, having revealed the 
 cause of his distress, felt disburdened, and both 
 proceeded onward for a length of time without 
 
166 THE LUNATIC ASYLUM. 
 
 breaking upon each other's reflections. After 
 having rode in this manner for some distance, 
 the Doctor changed the subject of their thoughts, 
 by remarking upon the beauty of the country, 
 the uncommon fineness of the day, and at length 
 led his friend to turn his mind from the gloom 
 and despondency within, to the cheerfulness and 
 gaiety without. When they reached the Rec- 
 tory, the Doctor showed his friend the altera- 
 tions which he had made in his house and 
 garden since his last visit ; exhibited some 
 pictures which had recently fallen into his pos- 
 session, and turned over many new works which 
 had been added to his library. He thus be- 
 guiled the time till an hour before dinner, when 
 he led him to his apartment, and left him to his 
 own reflections, while he himself disposed of 
 some parochial business which requu'ed his 
 interference. 
 
 After dinner, when the cloth was removed, 
 the Doctor, looking upon that time as best 
 suited to the purpose of a more unrestrained 
 developement of his friend's calamity, led by 
 easy gradations to the subject of it." " Goodall," 
 said he, " though no man enjoys the rational 
 pleasures of society more than I do, yet there 
 
THE LUNATIC ASYLUM. 167 
 
 are limes when no man more stronMy relishes 
 the comforts of solitude : indeed the various 
 matters which constantly present themselves to 
 our minds, the different humours in which we 
 are continually found, the ebb and flow of our 
 animal spirits, all these things indicate that we 
 are not constituted for the uniform employment 
 of our time and talents; nor is it wise to attempt, 
 in all instances, to turn the tide of nature, by 
 keeping the mind bent upon the same object. 
 I find, therefore, that if I seek relaxation, by 
 mixing in the scenes, and occupations, and 
 rational amusements of life, that, afterwards, 
 I return with double zest to those which re- 
 tirement and reflection present; and that the 
 one insensibly aids the other. I confess the 
 beauty and cheerfulness of the morning, the 
 clear blue sky, the warm sunshine, the fine 
 verdure with which the country is clothed, gave 
 me a feeling of unusual delight : and now that 
 they are gone by, and the day is closed in, 
 my mind is becalmed, and I feel disposed to 
 give way to meditation or serious conversa- 
 tion." » 
 
 *' I suspect," replied his friend, " that the 
 unhappy subject of our discourse this morning, 
 
168 THE LUNATIC ASYLUM. 
 
 and the sensibility it excited in your breast, 
 have had the effect of making you disposed to 
 sombre reflection ; and I am selfish enough to 
 be pleased that you have this disposition at 
 present; for what I have yet to communicate 
 cannot fail to inflict pain upon one endued with 
 such feelings as yours. I have touched already 
 upon the great chord which has produced in us 
 such strong vibrations. Of all human losses, 
 that of our Reason is assuredly the most de- 
 plorable ; for, deprived of this, human nature 
 falls, and the brute creation rises superior. 
 The instinct which is implanted in the beasts 
 that perish is a species of reasoning, and to 
 their nature it answers all the purposes of it; 
 whereas man, divested of it, what is he ? — 
 Nothing, infinitely less than nothing ! He 
 oftentimes becomes a loathsome and disgustful 
 object, though one that must at all times excite 
 the deepest commiseration, especially in those 
 connected by friendship or allied by blood. 
 
 " But let me understand," interrupted the 
 Doctor, " how the malady arose ; I am anxious 
 to trace the original cause of it, that I may judge 
 of the probable time of its continuance." 
 
 " You cannot fail to remember," he replied. 
 
THE LUNATIC ASYLUM. 169 
 
 '^ that only a few years ago my poor girl was 
 then the liveliest, and, in my estimation, the 
 loveliest of her sex ; her spirits were uniformly 
 high, and she was always even-tempered ; but 
 you know she had in her constitution a good 
 deal of natural enthusiasm, mixed with a little 
 fondness for romance. Her mind had been 
 cultivated with studious care, and no means and 
 no trouble, were ever spared to store it with all 
 that was valuable and excellent. We were in- 
 dulgent, it is true, but she was never spoilt, 
 because she ever made her own happiness en- 
 tirely to hang upon ours. As she had no 
 brother nor sister, it was but right that she 
 should have the advantages and enjoyment of 
 the best society which we could procure. As 
 long as your beloved daughter was living, my 
 dear friend, she wanted, and we desired, no 
 other, certainly no better, companion ; but when 
 she was called hence, Kathrine's and our ofreat- 
 est happiness departed with her. From that 
 period we observed a visible difference in her 
 manner ; her spirits began to fail her, and we 
 could with difficulty rouse her into action. 
 Her whole mind, at length, became absorbed 
 and lost in constant meditation. At this time a 
 
 VOL. I. I 
 
170 THE LUNATIC ASYLUM. 
 
 family came to reside in a house which had long 
 been unoccupied in our immediate neighbour- 
 hood ; this family consisted of a widow lady and 
 her three daughters, all of them grown up. 
 Either from worldly misfortunes, or from the 
 loss of Mr. Newman, or from constitutional 
 dejection of mind, their mode of life essentially 
 altered after his death, and they are now almost 
 the most serious people I have ever seen. At 
 first I was not disposed to form an acquaintance 
 with them, but they did so many acts of real 
 kindness to the necessitous around them, and 
 were so earnest in what they considered to be 
 right, that, as they were also our nearest neigh- 
 bours, I could not bring myself, under such 
 circumstances, to be deficient in attention to 
 those who, by whatever motives they were 
 actuated, had shown themselves amiable and 
 praise-worthy. An acquaintance, therefore, 
 commenced ; and Kathrine, upon finding their 
 habits and notions accord so well with her 
 present disposition to melancholy, nourished it 
 with ardour. It is from this time I date the 
 commencement of that change of mind which 
 progressively led to the serious consequences 
 we now deplore. These young ladies, though 
 
THE LUNATIC ASYLUM. 171 
 
 well educated, and endowed with all the accom- 
 plishments of elegant life, had estranged them- 
 selves fi'om every thing that could be construed 
 into cheerfulness of disposition or manners. 
 They were uniformly bent on the prosecution 
 of one design ; their music, their dancing, their 
 drawing, were abandoned as unnecessary, or 
 inconsistent with the dignity of a religious 
 life. If they worked with their needle, it was 
 for the clothing of any rather than themselves. 
 Their reading was all of one kind and one cast, 
 and calculated to inspire dread instead of com- 
 posure. They kept up a correspondence with 
 persons at a distance, whose minds were as 
 sad and gloomy as their own. They inveighed 
 against all amusements, of what nature soever 
 they were, as well public as private. Though 
 unwilling to engage in scenes of busy life, they 
 made no scruple of going great distances, and 
 undergoing all the inconveniencies of attending 
 large pubHc meetings and committees : and 
 would manifest on these occusions an air for 
 the despatch of .business, supported by no other 
 proof of it. At home, unmindful of the duties 
 of domestic economy, and the exercise of that 
 disposition which should characterise the sex, 
 
 I 2 
 
lV2 THE LUNATIC ASYLUM. 
 
 they were either wholly occupied in devotional 
 contemplations, ' or compassing sea and land, 
 to make proselytes' of the cottagers of the 
 neighbourhood, among whom also, when visit- 
 ing the sick, although taking upon them the 
 functions of the clergy, they avoided their 
 practice of using the prescribed forms of the 
 Church, or those composed by the most pious 
 and learned of her sons, but gave way to the 
 unrestrained volubility, and unbridled pourings- 
 forth of extemporaneous effusions. Their con- 
 versation was at all times confined to one subject, 
 their employments to one end ; they delivered 
 to others, and they received themselves, nothing 
 but what they called ' expositions of Scripture ;' 
 they joined only in, what they called, a pious 
 interchange of sentiment. Now, though I ad- 
 mit the goodness of their intentions, and of their 
 readiness to yield so much to self-denial, yet the 
 tenor of their life and conduct had an opposite 
 effect to that which they intended; for I still 
 maintain, that though actuated by what were 
 meant as the best religious motives, their views 
 of religion were pal})ably erroneous : for no 
 where do the Scriptures exhibit the Almighty 
 as requiring the whole and uninterrupted solemn 
 
THE LUNATIC ASYLUM. 173 
 
 service of his creatures. The very appoint- 
 ment of one day in seven for his exclusive 
 worship, and man's repose, the change from day 
 to night, and many other such circumstances, 
 point out ' the time for all things ;' the time 
 for action, the time for rest, the time for worship, 
 for business, and enjoyment; but not one endless 
 circle of unbroken seriousness ; nor, indeed, 
 would it be reasonable ; for the mind, if it ever 
 admits restraint, is bound down with great diffi- 
 culty to the exclusive pursuit of one unchanging 
 object. But this is not all upon which I found 
 my objections, which are more particularly 
 levelled against that interpretation and under- 
 standing of the Scriptures themselves, which 
 these ladies, and such ladies as these, maintain. 
 No : I cannot draw from this source that sort of 
 argument which makes for an uniformly serious 
 or gloomy deportment; say what you will, I 
 repeat it, that it is not the object of genuine 
 religion to overcast the mind and countenance : 
 all is not clouds and darkness ; there is a sun 
 which though not always seen, commonly breaks 
 through and disperses them. My opinions 
 which at first amounted to mere surmises, are 
 now, alas ! fully, nay, they are most fatally con- 
 
 I 3 
 
174< THE LUNATIC ASYLUM. 
 
 firmed ! My child, who possessed a mind 
 peculiarly susceptible of deep and lasting im- 
 pressions, sustained the first shock of earthly 
 calamity when your Letitia died but these 
 seeds of dejection, though deeply implanted, 
 might in time have been eradicated, had she 
 not met with congenial nutriment, and been ex- 
 posed to an atmosphere suited to its growth ; 
 hence it has struck a deeper root, and burst 
 forth into a luxuriancy of melancholy which has 
 ended in extravagance. It was too late to ap- 
 ply the remedy when the disease was mortal ; 
 in vain we removed her person from one place 
 to another, her mind was rivetted to one spot ; 
 in vain we tried to divert it by change ; in vain 
 we tried to feed it with more wholesome nutri- 
 ment; she, like Rachel, ' refused to be com- 
 forted,' and at length manifested tokens of 
 unequivocal derangement. We took the best 
 advice upon her case ; we never left her day or 
 night ; and when her mind became wholly be- 
 nighted, we removed her to a distance, to a 
 place of retirement, and gave up all our atten- 
 tion to her recovery. All our efforts, however, 
 were unavailing, and seemed to have the very 
 opposite tendency to that which they were in- 
 
THE LUNATIC ASYLUM. 175 
 
 tended to produce. The poor sufferer became 
 outrageous, and no eye could gaze upon her 
 where there was a heart to feel, or while memory 
 recalled what she had so lately been. Her mo- 
 ther's health now began visibly to decline, and 
 as the last means of preserving it, I was pre- 
 vailed upon to send her to the Asylum near this 
 place; in this, after much hesitation, I acquiesced, 
 as the Governor was not only a man of high 
 chai'acter, and well known to me, but had been 
 under many and great obligations to my family. 
 He, when he knew the circumstances, came 
 and offered me the most commodious private 
 apartments, with all suitable assistants, together 
 with every other accommodation for Jane, poor 
 Kathrine's maid, who has never left her from 
 the time of her birth, and without whom her 
 mother would never have consented, under any 
 circumstances, to part with her. At present, 
 I fear, there can be no immediate hopes of her 
 recovery ; but as I proposed now to pay my 
 first visit to her (for my wife's brother under- 
 took the charge of her removal), I determined 
 not only to communicate my intentions to you, 
 but to prevail upon you to accompany me, and 
 to beo: the still <jrreater favour and comfort of 
 
 I 4- 
 
176 THE LUNATIC ASYLUM. 
 
 your promising to ride over occasionally to see 
 her." 
 
 " My dear friend," replied the Doctor, who 
 during this recital had been moved to tears at 
 the distressing circumstances which had been 
 related, particularly as the first cause of this 
 catastrophe was connected with the remem- 
 brance of his own child; " my dear friend, rely 
 upon it, that not only will I accompany you 
 to-morrow, but I will make a point of seeing 
 the unhappy Kathrine once in every week, or 
 oftener, if it can tend either to your comfort or 
 hers. I will this evening write a note to the 
 Governor, whom I know, to apprise him of our 
 intention to visit him to-morrow, and beg of 
 him to request that the physician of the esta- 
 blishment may also attend us." 
 
 This disclosure, and the promise which the 
 Doctor had made, had an immediate effect upon 
 his friend, who evidently derived the greatest 
 satisfaction from the assurances which had been 
 given him. 
 
 On the following day, soon after breakfast, 
 the two friends mounted their horses, and, un- 
 attended, proceeded to the Asylum : they were 
 both extremely silent, and it was apparent that 
 
THE LUNATIC ASYLUM. 177 
 
 neither wished his meditations to be interrupted. 
 When they arrived at the place, and received 
 admittance at the gate of the lodge, they gave 
 their horses in charge to the porter, and walked 
 towards the ^reat entrance of the buildino;. 
 Here Mr. Goodall betrayed symptoms of great 
 agitation, and his pale countenance and quiver- 
 ing lip, while they excited the strongest feelings, 
 called up all the energies of his friend's mind. 
 
 " Come," said he, " come along, my friend ; 
 let us hope the best : God grant that this af- 
 fliction, which he has been pleased should befal 
 you, may quickly be removed, and removed it 
 surely must be in time ; for cases that arise from 
 such sudden causes are generally of a transient 
 nature ; at least they are very far removed from 
 those that are hereditary and communicated by 
 blood." 
 
 " Yes," replied he, " it is certainly a source 
 of consolation that as the cause is accidental, the 
 effects are not necessarily permanent." 
 
 The Doctor now rung the great bell, which 
 was answered by a person who showed them 
 into an apartment for the reception of visitors 
 connected with the patients, and almost imme- 
 diately Mr. Mildway, the governor, made his 
 
 I 5 
 
178 THE LUNATIC ASYLUM. 
 
 appearance. He was a man of great respect- 
 ability, open manners, and possessed a counte- 
 nance which bespoke a most inteUigent mind. 
 He directly advanced towards the wretched 
 father, and received him with great tenderness 
 and feeling ; but as he perceived him unable to 
 enter into conversation, he addressed himself to 
 his companion. 
 
 " Dr. Freeman," said he, " we have made 
 the young lady as comfortable as she can be, 
 and her maid is decidedly of opinion that she 
 receives no accession to her complaint from any 
 such outward and unavoidable causes as had that 
 tendency while she was at home." 
 
 " But, my good Sir," impatiently exclaimed 
 the father, " is she at all mending ? are there 
 no favourable symptoms? or am I to apprehend 
 that she is, if possible, worse ?" 
 
 " Sir," said Mr. Mildway, " she has only 
 been here a fortnight, and a new situation fre- 
 quently brings with it fresh excitement, so that 
 at present it is quite impossible that we should 
 be able, indeed it would be premature, to form 
 any opinion of her. I regret that the physician 
 is unavoidably prevented from waiting upon 
 vou ; but had he been here, after so short a trial, 
 
THE LUNATIC ASYLUM. 279 
 
 he would have given no opinion in this case: if, 
 however, Dr. Freeman will accompany me, I 
 will conduct him to her apartment, and in the 
 mean time will send her maid to attend upon 
 you here." 
 
 " WTiat," said the father, " what, may I not 
 see her myself?" 
 
 " I think," replied the Governor, " it would 
 be better that you should not ; it may occasion 
 her additional uneasiness, and Dr. Freeman v.ill 
 report to you her present state, and in what 
 manner she is accommodated." 
 
 " Indeed," continued the Doctor, " it certainly 
 is better that you should rely upon my inform- 
 ation, without exposing yourself or her to an 
 interview which can be beneficial to neither of 
 you." 
 
 " Perhaps it would be best," he replied : 
 " but as I am come hither for that express pur- 
 pose, I shall not be satisfied unless I see her ; 
 besides, I gave her mother the positive assur- 
 ance that I would, and she may conclude that 
 Kathrine was worse than perhaps she is, if I 
 tell her that I was persuaded to forego my in- 
 tentions." 
 
 '•' Well, then, Mr.Mildway," said the Doctor, 
 I 6 
 
180 THE LUNATIC ASYLUM. 
 
 " under these circumstances we must consent, 
 and so lead us on." They were now conducted 
 some way up the great staircase, when they 
 arrived at a landing place ; here a door was un- 
 locked which led through a passage to some 
 others. 
 
 " These," said the Governor, '• on the left 
 are the private apartments of a young lady who 
 has been here for some time ; these on the right 
 are allotted to Miss Goodall, and this," said he, 
 " is the ante- room to the one which she now 
 occupies : if, therefore, you will go through it, 
 you will immediately see her." The two friends 
 now advanced, and upon the Doctor's quietly 
 opening the door, they saw the wretched 
 Kathrine on her knees in an agony of silent 
 devotion ; her figure, though emaciated, was 
 graceful in every movement ; her beautiful hair 
 was hanging loosely and dishevelled about her 
 shoulders; her face was turned towards the wall, 
 while her hands raised on high were clasped and 
 unclasped convulsively. After being thus oc- 
 cupied a few minutes, she broke out into the 
 wildest and most incoherent rhapsody of intense 
 devotion, mingled with dreadful shrieks, as she 
 supplicated mercy from all the supernatural 
 
THE LUNATIC ASYLUM. 181 
 
 horrors and torments by which she conceived 
 herself to be surrounded. The afflicted father 
 stood rivetted to the floor, but every muscle of 
 his face was in motion, and his knees tottered 
 under him, whilst silent but impassioned tears 
 streamed from his countenance, and trickled 
 down " to the very skirts of his clothing." Jane 
 now approached to soothe her mistress, who, at 
 length, overcome by fatigue and exertion, 
 clasped her in her arms, and, burying her head 
 in her apron, uttered moans piercing and piti- 
 able beyond all conception, while her bosom 
 heaved wdth the most conflicting- and afjonizina: 
 sobs; then suddenly starting and turning around 
 she caught a view of the spectators, towards 
 whom she was in the act of bounding, when her 
 eye recognized her father. It acted like light- 
 ning, she instantly recoiled, and then with a 
 look of such deep and piercing penetration as 
 only the insane can exhibit, she assumed a dif- 
 ferent aspect, grinding her teeth and yelling 
 hideously. 
 
 " You," said she ; " yes it was you," and 
 running to him she grasped his arm w^ith super- 
 human force, " it was you that brought me to 
 
182 THE LUNATIC ASYLUM. 
 
 this State — why did you not spare Letitia? 
 Why did you not purchase grace for me, and 
 save me from coming to this torment? Go back 
 
 o 
 
 to the world and be converted, lest you come 
 to this place of burning — my head is now on 
 fire, why do you not quench it? Put it out, put 
 it out, if there still be mercy?" and winding her 
 hair with all her strength around her temples, 
 she fell and rolled upon the floor in agony ! 
 
 " For Heaven's sake," said Jane, " take 
 away my master, or my young mistress will be 
 worse than ever !" The Doctor now took his 
 friend's arm, and drew him, stupified as he was, 
 from this heart-rending scene, attended by the 
 Governor, who ordering additional assistance 
 to be given, went himself to prepare a medicine 
 for her relief. 
 
 As soon as the agitated father could speak — 
 *' My dear Doctor," said he ," leave me for a 
 short time to myself, and let Jane be sent to me 
 as soon as her mistress is more composed." 
 
 The Doctor now quitted tlie room, and meet- 
 ing Mr. Mildway in the hall, he requested him 
 to iiive orders that Kathrine's maid might attend 
 Mr. Goodall, as scon as she could give a more 
 
THE LUNATIC ASYLUM. 183 
 
 favourable account of his daughter. This re- 
 quest was no sooner comphed with, than both 
 of them walked into the garden to converse. 
 
 " You see, Sir," said Mr. Mildway, " what 
 a pitiable case is this. The fact is, since this 
 young lady's arrival here, she has been pro- 
 gressively worse, and you now see her under 
 the most unfavourable circumstances; when she 
 has been longer here, she will become famili- 
 ai'ised to the place and to those who attend her, 
 and the physician then hopes that the disease 
 will gradually abate, and, ultimately, disappear; 
 but this is not, I assure you, by many, a singu- 
 lar case. At the present moment we have three 
 or four whose malady proceeds from reliixious 
 extravagance, for both extremes continually 
 c^erate to produce these sad effects, as well 
 those that are too gloomy, as those that are too 
 warm and elated. Perhaps you would like to 
 walk through the different wards?" The Doctor 
 having expressed his desire to do so, they now 
 returned to the house, when, upon unlocking a 
 door, they entered a very long and large apart- 
 ment. 
 
 " This," said the Governor, " is the female 
 ward ; and here we have almost every variation 
 
184? THE LUNATIC ASYLUM. 
 
 of the disease exemplified in the patients around 
 us. They who carry their hands in small muffs 
 are the worst, and are secured by what they 
 thus look upon as the outward symbols ^f orna- 
 ments. Talk freely with any that speak to you, 
 and show no desire to avoid them. This one," 
 said he, turning towards a robust good-looking 
 woman, " fancies herself a Duchess, and keeps 
 aloof from all, excepting two or three whom she 
 calls ' The Quality.' Yonder are sitting three 
 females together, exhibiting as many distinct 
 kinds of insanity: one with a face indicative of 
 sheer vacuity of mind, is perpetually laughing; 
 to most people this is considered more disgust- 
 ing than any other. The next, who struggles 
 in contortions and is crying, is secured to the 
 table against which she sits ; the other, with a 
 fixed ferocity of countenance, whose brows are 
 constantly knitted, and whose attention is quite 
 unmoved, is melancholy ; the very worst of all, 
 whether we consider the patient or the keeper. 
 You see several bustling about, as if occupied 
 in business ; to these I have given various little 
 things in trust, and after they have detained 
 them for a time, they return them for others ; 
 upon this they assume a self-importance, and 
 
THE LUNATIC ASYLUM. 185 
 
 their minds are thus kept, for the most part, 
 diverted from themselves. Those walking 
 about in strait waistcoats, wear them only for 
 certain hours of the day, after which they are 
 taken off, and then remain harmless ; very 
 frequently they themselves are aware of the ap- 
 proach of their paroxysms, and will voluntarily 
 come to be thus secured. You see through the 
 iron-worked gate behind you, that large wheel, 
 on the circumference of which is fastened a strong 
 sort of chair ? We have lately had recourse to 
 this machine, which has not been long invented. 
 It is designed to relieve those who are suddenly 
 seized with paroxysms ; upon which occasions 
 they are tightly secured in the chair, and a 
 person turns the crank, which, in consequence 
 of the multiplying wheels, communicates a tre- 
 mendously rapid motion; immediately afterwards 
 the patient is excited to sickness, and he is taken 
 out perfectly subdued." 
 
 " And pray," asked the Doctor, " is this ex- 
 traordinary method found to answer ?" 
 
 " To that question," replied the Governor, 
 " I am not yet prepared to make a reply, 
 because we have tried it but a very short time ; 
 
186 THE LUNATIC ASYLUM. 
 
 it is certain, however, that immediate rehef is 
 obtained, and some of the patients, when sud- 
 denly assailed by their fits, will instantly call 
 out for the wheel. The action of the air upon 
 the brain, through which they are so rapidly 
 whirled, produces, I think, a beneficial effect. 
 Do you see. Dr. Freeman, a young woman 
 working at her needle ?" pointing to a decently 
 dressed female near one of the windows ; " her 
 attention is seldom or never taken from her 
 work, while the other near her is perpetually 
 prying into every thing, and is never silent 
 except when she is asleep." 
 
 A small side-door of the room now opened, 
 through which there entered a young female, 
 followed at a little distance by an attendant 
 maid in a walking dress. " Here," said the 
 humane conductor, " here comes the Poetess, 
 [perhaps to salute you, Sir, which she will do 
 by quoting with great accuracy, and not unfre- 
 quently with strong allusion, from half the 
 poets that have ever existed. She is at all 
 times harmless during the day, but not always 
 so at night, when she conceives herself in- 
 spired ; she is then often so frantic as to require 
 restraint." 
 
THE LUNATIC ASYLUM. 187 
 
 The person of whom he spoke now approached, 
 and repeated as she came towards them, — 
 
 " Doubt that the stars are fire, 
 
 Doubt that the sun doth move, 
 Doubt truth to be a bar, 
 But never doubt I love !" 
 
 Then stoppmg du-ectly in front of them, ex- 
 claimed, — 
 
 " Howl, howl, howl, howl ! Oh, you are men of 
 
 stones, 
 Had I your tongues and eyes, I'd use them so, 
 That heaven's vault should crack ! Oh, he is 
 
 gone for ever ! 
 I know when one is dead and when one lives ; 
 He's dead as earth ;" 
 
 and on she went, carrying in one hand a few 
 leaves of paper, and in the other a pen, with 
 which she walked about, occasionally stopping, 
 and pretending to commit her thoughts to 
 writing. She was young and interesting ; her 
 dark eyes w^ere lighted up with a most ex- 
 pressive brilliancy; her features were regular, 
 but her countenance was pale as death. There 
 was in her figure perfect symmetry, and she 
 carried with her the air and manners of one 
 who had not only been well educated, but 
 
188 THE LUNATIC ASYLUM. 
 
 had evidently moved in the higher walks of 
 life. 
 
 " Do, Mr. Mildway," said the Doctor, " do 
 inform me who that young lady is ; surely 
 there must be something unusually interest- 
 ing connected with her; how elegant, how 
 graceful !" 
 
 " Tliat unhappy creature," said he, " is the 
 daughter of a clergyman, whom death left an 
 orphan at a very early age. So good and 
 engaging were her manners, and so pitiable 
 was her case, that a neighbouring nobleman, 
 one of whose livings her father had held, took 
 her into his own family, by whom she was so 
 kindly treated, that she might be said to be 
 adopted. Here her accomplished mind, her 
 person, and her sweetness of temper attracted 
 the attention of a young soldier, who united in 
 himself all those agreeable and highly polished 
 qualifications and endowments of mind, that 
 could not fail to endear him to those who 
 appreciate high feeling, excessive sensibility, 
 playfulness of fancy, and luxuriancy of talent 
 in the manly form. His affection for this 
 young lady had been excited by all that could 
 
THE LUNATIC ASYLUM. 189 
 
 interest a brave and open heart, and had 
 finally been rivetted by that sympathy, that 
 congenialitv of thought and feeling so well cal- 
 culdted to be united. Being called upon to 
 join his regiment abroad, he obeyed the sum- 
 mons, not however before he had interchanged 
 with her his heart, and had avowed her as the 
 destined object of his choice. Conceive, Sir, 
 the feehngs of one who had now met with such 
 a permanent protector to guard her against the 
 outward ills of life: of an orphan who united 
 the fond ties of parent, brother, and friend, to 
 that still more endearing, of an affianced lover ; 
 of one who, in the character of a destined 
 husband, saw the beauties of a manlv figure 
 united to all the graces of a refined mind; — 
 conceive this, Sir, and you may form some 
 faint notion of the effect which a sudden blight 
 of all these promises must produce upon such 
 a frame ! The young man fell in action ! and 
 she became distracted !" 
 
 A tear fell from his cheek as he spoke, and 
 seeing its companion lurking in the Doctor's 
 eye ; he continued — "I declare. Sir, I never 
 can look upon this young lady, familiarised as I 
 am to her appearance, without feeling something 
 
190 THE LUNATIC ASYLUM. 
 
 that oppresses my breath, and, in spite of me, 
 stops my utterance, only that it may speak with 
 my eyes," — and he passed his handkerchief 
 over his face. " Poor creature, she is just 
 come out to take her usual walk here, which 
 she does every day, seldom or ever noticing 
 those around her ; although she likes coming 
 among them so much, as to be quite uneasy if 
 she be not allowed to enjoy this public prome- 
 nade. Her apartments, which you will remem- 
 ber I pointed out to you, as joining those of 
 Miss Gcodall, exactly correspond with them." 
 During this time the unhappy girl had walked 
 slowly along the room, frequently in the atti- 
 tude of deep thinking, frequently stopping, and 
 as often engaged in either seemino; to write, or 
 in actually quoting from different authors. She 
 again passed the Doctor and his conductor ; and 
 without appearing to regard them, indulged in 
 
 recitmg 
 
 Blest as the immortal Gods is she, 
 The nymph that fondly sits by thee, 
 And sees and hears thee all the while 
 Softly speak and sweetly smile ! 
 'Twas this deprived my Soul of rest 
 And raised such tumults in my breast ! 
 
THE LUNATIC ASYLUM. 191 
 
 Then breaking out in an orifrinal strain : — 
 
 Hark ! I hear the battle's roar ; 
 See ! the polished armour glances ; 
 Mark ! the ground is wet with gore, 
 The bugles sound, the foe advances. 
 
 See ! his crest is gaily streaming. 
 Quick his shining sword he draws ; 
 Honour in his look is beaming, 
 For he fights in freedom's cause. 
 
 Hush ! hush ! — oh, list that dreadful sound ! 
 He falls ! he falls ! — he dies ! he dies — 
 Life is gushing through the wound, 
 See, through air his spirit rise. 
 
 " Alas !" said the Doctor, " she is indeed 
 another Sappho !" And he followed Mr. Mild- 
 way slowly and pensively through a door into 
 another large room, which was allotted to the 
 men. " Here," said he, " we are come to the 
 great male ward. The worst patients here are 
 pinioned to prevent their doing themselves or 
 others any injury ; the rest are quietly disposed ; 
 but, Sir, I am afraid I must beg you to excuse 
 me now for a very short time, as it is necessary 
 for me to go to the surgery below, for medicines 
 which are immediately wanted ; indeed I should 
 have been there long before. Rely upon it 
 
J 92 THE LUNATIC ASYLUM. 
 
 that there are none here who either will or can 
 annoy you ; and against the furthest door at the 
 bottom of the ward, you see one of the keepers ; 
 he will explain every thing that you may ask 
 him ; and if you will have the kindness to give 
 him this key, he will afterwards conduct you by 
 the private staircase, to the apartment where I 
 shall be found at your entire service." So say- 
 ing he unlocked the door by which they had 
 entered, and disappeared in an instant. 
 
 The Doctor, with a mind not perfectly com- 
 posed, assumed a confidence, which, at this 
 moment he did not actually possess ; yet with a 
 firm step and by no means hurried, he walked 
 down the room, and approaching the person to 
 whom he had been directed, he said, " the Go- 
 vernor has requested me to tell you, that you 
 are to point out to me the different situations 
 and circumstances of the patients here, and then 
 to take me down to the room below by the pri- 
 vate door, of which this is the key." The man 
 made a bow and took it. " I suppose," con- 
 tinued the Doctor, " you consider the house 
 now as full as it can well be." 
 
 " Indeed," he replied, " the Hospital is a 
 great deal too much crowded — we are altoge- 
 
THE LUNATIC ASYLUM. 193 
 
 ther too much confined ; but what with poverty 
 on the one hand, and depra\nty on the other, 
 there is cause enough for sickness and disease ; 
 and yet, what is extraordinary^, they are so well 
 taken care of, so well fed, and so comfortable, 
 that very few have any wish to leave the 
 house." 
 
 " Indeed," said the Doctor ; " you really 
 astonish me. Surely, notwithstanding the com- 
 fort and kindness they experience, they must 
 have a strong dislike to the confinement." 
 
 '' I assure you, Sir," replied the other, " you 
 are quite mistaken ; for I verily beheve, that 
 were you to throw open the doors, few would 
 leave the ward, unless merely to gratify their 
 curiosity." 
 
 " What is the situation of that man ?" con- 
 tinued the Doctor, directing his view to a pa- 
 tient in a blue jacket. 
 
 " That," repHed the other, " is a Sailor, who, 
 having been washed overboard in the North 
 Seas, in a fit of intoxication, caught a cold, 
 which has never yet been cured : he calls him- 
 self Jonah, because he was taken up by a 
 Whaler; and here he is preaching to the 
 Ninevites : you may well smile, for it is a co- 
 
 VOL. I. K 
 
194 THE LUNATIC ASYLUM. 
 
 mical conceit. That man next to him is his 
 constant follower, I may say, disciple ; he is a 
 gardener." 
 
 " I think I have seen him before ; what is his 
 name ?" said the Doctor. 
 
 " I think not," said his informer ; " I believe 
 he is a stranger, a Gentile ; his name is," — and 
 here he hesitated, — " is — Gethsemane !" 
 
 The Doctor was about to express his surprise, 
 when he saw a man making a direct point at 
 him from the other end of the room, and 
 was now directing his steps towards them. 
 " Who is the man making up to us, in a red 
 waistcoat ?" 
 
 " That is the worst patient we have," re- 
 plied the other : " I would not recommend your 
 going near him, for he is a very abusive and 
 ill-behaved fellow ; and dislikes me merely, I 
 believe, because my waistcoat happens to be 
 yellow. He pretends to be of great conse- 
 quence here, and would fain pass for the master 
 of the house : he is for commanding every body. 
 The best way is to take no sort of notice of 
 him." The man now approached, and beckoned 
 the Doctor's companion, then shook his head, 
 and was about to address him, when a most 
 
THE LUNATIC ASYLUM. 195 
 
 outrajjeous tumult broke out at the further end 
 of the ward from which he had come; a great 
 scuffle, very high words, and some hard blows 
 ensued, upon which he posted back with great 
 precipitation to join it. 
 
 The Doctor's guide, turning to him, said, 
 " Sir, I fear something disagreeable is likely to 
 happen, which you may not like to witness ; and 
 I think you had better retire ;" and taking the 
 key out of his pocket, he was hampering the 
 lock some time before he could undo it. " This 
 lock," said he, " is always hard to come at ; but 
 it is undone, and you had better make the 
 most of your time." So saying, he closed the 
 door, and bolted it after him, and then con- 
 ducted the Doctor down a staircase to a passage 
 leading to two other doors. " There, Sir," 
 said he, pointing to the furthest, " I hear the- 
 Governor's voice ; there you may join him, and 
 return him the key." 
 
 The Doctor, putting a shilling into his hand, 
 stepped forward, and found Mr. Mildway en- 
 gaged in compounding medicines. »" I shall 
 finish. Dr. Freeman," said he, as he entered, 
 " in less than five minutes, and will attend you 
 to Mr. Goodall." 
 
 K 2 
 
196 THE LUNATIC ASYLUM. 
 
 After a short conversation upon what he had 
 seen, the Doctor was conducted back to his 
 friend, who now appeared more composed. 
 Jane, in the interim, had given her master the 
 grateful inteUigence that his daughter had fallen 
 into a deep sleep, after one of the most violent 
 paroxysms she had ever witnessed. She had 
 also further assured him of the unremitting at- 
 tention paid by the physician, and by Mr. and 
 Mrs. Mildway, to her young lady's case and 
 situation, which had the effect of con\dncing him 
 that no where could she be more comfortably, 
 or more advantageously situated. 
 
 " Permit me, Mr. Mildway," said the father, 
 " to thank you for the great attention you and 
 Mrs. Mildway have paid to my poor child. I 
 feel assured that all she requires will be afforded 
 her, and that she will want nothing that human 
 skill can administer for her recovery. I have 
 only to beg, for the further consolation of my 
 wife, that our best of friends, the Doctor here, 
 may always have access to her. And now. 
 Doctor, let us return to the Rectory." 
 
 He had hardly spoken, when several persons 
 came to the room for the Governor, to inform 
 him that one of the patients had effected his 
 
THE LUNATIC ASYLUM. 197 
 
 escape from the house, and that the keepers 
 were gone out after him. In vain he enquired 
 who it was ; no one could make any other reply 
 than that the keepers were heard to say, " they 
 should catch him before the Governor could 
 hear of the matter." 
 
 « Then," said Mr. Mildway, " I am under 
 no uneasiness whatever. Gentlemen, I will at- 
 tend you to the Porter's Lodge." 
 
 As they proceeded down the long broad 
 gravel walk, a knocking was heard on the other 
 side of the outer gate, which, as it opened, ex- 
 hibited the return of the fugitive. 
 
 " I perceive already," said the Doctor, " that 
 the party has been successful; for I myself can 
 see the patient; but still I don't know how it 
 is, for he seems more like one leading than 
 being led." 
 
 " The patient may be seen clearly enough," 
 said the Governor, " by the yellow waistcoat he 
 has on." 
 
 « That !— that the patient !" cried the Doctor, 
 manifesting tokens of alarm, — " why that is 
 the man under whose direction you placed me 
 just now, in the male ward." 
 
 " Surely, Doctor, you are mistaken," rephed 
 K 3 
 
198 THE LUNATIC ASYLUM. 
 
 the Governor; "the person to whom I directed 
 yoQ was the keeper by his side, who wears a red 
 waistcoat." 
 
 The party now came up. 
 
 " 1 tell you," said the captive, " it was that 
 Gentleman in black that asked me to go out 
 with him, and furnished me with the key of the 
 door; and told me the Governor had ordered 
 it. I don't wish to go away, because I am so 
 happy here, as I told the Gentleman. Isn't 
 that the truth, Sir ?" 
 
 " Why," said the Doctor, " it is very true, 
 my friend, that you did say all this; but it 
 seems I mistook you ; and as you must have 
 known this yourself, you should have put me 
 right. What you say is, indeed, literally and 
 religiously true, but " 
 
 " Religiously true !" exclaimed the man, 
 dwelling on these last words, and assuming a 
 wilder aspect, — " What is religiously true ? 
 I say nothing but grace in the heart, and con- 
 version of sinners ; nothing " And here 
 
 he launched out into such incoherent violence, 
 as to put the question of his insanity beyond all 
 possible dispute, while it required all the efforts 
 of those who held him to restrain him from 
 
THE LUNATIC ASYLUM. 199 
 
 mischief; but, with additional help, they hurried 
 him back to his confinement. 
 
 " Dr. Freeman," said the Governor, " I am 
 not at all surprised at your mistake ; none but 
 those who have had experience can at all con- 
 ceive how exceedingly artful and ensnaring 
 these people are; they perpetually elude ail 
 our vigilance and caution. At intervals no 
 stranger will think many of them at all im- 
 paired in mind ; and at such times, in fact, they 
 are not. No; unless when under the influence 
 of their ruling passions ; and so long as you 
 refi'ain from touching the string on which their 
 malady hangs, to every outward appearance 
 they seem rational ; but strike the fatal string, 
 and in one moment the mind is jarred, and dis- 
 cord follows !" 
 
 K 4 
 
200 
 
 THE LITURGY. 
 
 In the Church which had the benefit of the 
 services of Dr. Freeman and Mr. Deacon, the 
 Holy Sacrament was regularly administered once 
 a month. By this wise regulation, fi'equent 
 opportunities were afforded to the pious part of 
 the congregation to partake in the Feast of the 
 Lamb, and of laying at the foot of the altar the 
 burthen 'of their cares, and the weight of their 
 sins ; whilst the less devout were warned by the 
 admonitions of their Pastor, in his earnest and 
 oft-repeated invitation to the Holy Communion, 
 of their danger in neglecting an ordinance so 
 full of comfort, encouragement, and hope, and 
 so essential to their salvation. The good effect 
 of this shade of likeness to the Apostolic times 
 was yearly more visible ; and the good Doctor 
 had the proud satisfaction of seeing the num- 
 ber of communicants more than trebled from 
 the time he had multiplied the observance of 
 this Christian practice. There were, indeed. 
 
THE LITURGY. 201 
 
 persons who considered such a recurrence 
 unnecessarily frequent, and who consequently 
 satisfied themselves wdth a participation of 
 the ordinance once or twice in the year, more 
 as the qualification to hold some secular office 
 than to secure any spiritual benefit. Among 
 these was a Mr. Heron, a man who had ac- 
 quired a handsome competence by means best 
 known to himself. They who were acquainted 
 with him fifteen years ago, were astonished to 
 find him transformed from an Attorney's scrib- 
 bler, on a very limited salary, into a Gentleman 
 of independent fortune. But though this Pro- 
 tean effect had taken place in his circumstances, 
 it was not difficult to delineate the original 
 chicanery of character, the low trick of petty 
 cunning, and the meanness of upstart gain. 
 Like the monkey who had seen the world, and 
 contrived by dress and foreign habits some- 
 what to alter his native form, but who, never- 
 theless, was a monkey still; Mr. Heron's ap- 
 pearance, though garnished and set off by a 
 curricle and pair of bays with gilt harness, could 
 not wholly blind the eyes of the world to his 
 true nature, and lethefy the remembrance of 
 his former habits and condition. As, therefore, 
 
 K 5 
 
202 . THE LITURGY. 
 
 he found that his admission into that better part 
 of society, in which character, demeanour, and 
 respectability are more regarded than a long 
 purse and stylish equipage, he resolved, in the 
 true spirit of his Satanic Majesty, who deemed 
 it better " to reign in hell than serve in heaven," 
 to put himself at the head of a party in the 
 parish, which had for its object a speciousness of 
 good ; but which, in reality, opposed the better- 
 disposed, merely because they were friends of 
 order. Headed by such a man, the refuse of 
 the parish, to whom faction is a blessing, and dis- 
 cord food, were more ready to clog the wheels 
 of parochial management, than by putting their 
 shoulders to them, to enable the officers to con- 
 duct all things orderly, peaceably, and w'ell. 
 
 There were others, also, who from one reason 
 or another, though regular attendants on Divine 
 Service, neglected to join in that goodly com- 
 pany, who " took the cup of salvation and 
 called upon the name of the Lord." Among 
 these, in particular, was Mr. Armstrong, a man 
 in other respects strictly orthodox, and a con- 
 stant worshipper in the Church of his Fore- 
 fathers with his " family and wife," but who, 
 on all occasions of the Sacrament, kept away. 
 
THE LITURGY. 203 
 
 This man had, by dint of a persevering industry 
 and a strict line of honourable dealing with his 
 customers, contrived to realise a small indepen- 
 dency, and at the age of fifty resigned to his two 
 eldest sons the full management and profits of a 
 business, by which he had attained his present 
 rank in society. Probity and integrity, though 
 clothed in rags, command respect, and sooner 
 or later attain that notice from society, which is 
 never withheld from deserving objects. So was 
 it with Mr. Aniistroncr. He was received and 
 esteemed by a large circle of respectable neigh- 
 bours. And though he could not wholly cast 
 off the technicality or dapperness of his former 
 way of life, his unblemished character was 
 deemed a sufficient salvo for his " smack of the 
 counter." He had lately been introduced to 
 Dr. Freeman, who had made two or three 
 friendly calls upon him ; the last of which Mr. 
 Armstrong was returning on a morning which 
 followed the Sacrament day, when, after the 
 usual interchange of salutations, he begged to 
 thank the Doctor for his beautiful sermon on 
 Christian Unity preached the day before. 
 
 " There was something in it. Reverend Sir," 
 he observed, " which took my attention very 
 
 K 6 
 
204 THE LITURGY. 
 
 much. It was pretty and pathetic, and as I 
 used to say to my customers when I had an 
 article I could recommend, the texture was so 
 fine, and the colour so tastefully blended, that 
 it was both pleasing and useful." 
 
 *' Really, my good friend," said the Doc- 
 tor, whose good humour exceeded his vanity, 
 " your compliment is so complex and twisted, 
 that I, who am no adept in the machmery of 
 Spitalfields, am somewhat at a loss to compre- 
 hend it. But, however, I am glad you approve 
 of any thing which I address to my flock, as it 
 is my wish to attract, only that I may instruct. 
 But do you not think, that Mr. Deacon's dis- 
 course yesterday, on the Sacrament, was not 
 only well delivered, but ably and satisfactorily 
 handled ?" 
 
 " That it was well delivered," replied Mr. 
 Armstrong, " I readily grant, because that I 
 understand ; but of its ability and satisfaction I 
 am unable to speak, as it is a subject on which 
 I have never made up my mind." 
 
 " This confession," said the Doctor, " gives 
 me room to hope that you will have no objec- 
 tion to discuss the subject with me, and, luckily, 
 here comes my friend, Mr. Deacon." 
 
THE LITURGY. 205 
 
 Here the worthy Curate was introduced, to 
 whom the Doctor related the subject of their 
 conversation, and begged that he would take 
 part in it. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said Mr. Armstrong, who had 
 drawn out his watch whilst the Doctor was 
 speaking, " I find that I have not time now to 
 enter fully into this question; but whenever 
 both of you are disengaged, and will condescend 
 to drink tea with Mrs. Armstrong and myself, 
 we shall be proud of the honour of your com- 
 pany. Perhaps you will favour us this even- 
 ing." — The invitation was accepted, and Mr. 
 Armstrong; took his leave. 
 
 When this morning visitant was gone, and 
 the two Divines had sat about half an hour, 
 discussing the merits of popular publications, 
 they were interrupted by the noisy clattering of 
 horses' hoofs, mixed with the rattle of carriage- 
 wheels, which all at once subsided at the door, 
 and was followed by a loud thundering peal 
 upon the rapper. 
 
 " Who comes here?" was the mutual exclam- 
 ation; " I dare say it is — " 
 
 " The Honourable Mrs. Draymore," was an- 
 nounced ; who came forward with all the height 
 
206 THE LITURGY. 
 
 of Step, and loftiness of gait, which conscious 
 beauty, a large jointure, and a fashionable edu- 
 cation can confer. " To you, my good Doctor, 
 and you, Mr. Curate, for I really forget your 
 name, I offer my morning salutations. It is 
 now some weeks since I either saw or heard of 
 you. The fact is, my time is so completely 
 taken up in raising subscriptions for religious 
 purposes, six days out of seven, and the other 
 day has lately been — " 
 
 " Not spent, Madam, in that house of God," 
 interrupted the Doctor, " in which you were 
 wont to be regularly seen." 
 
 " Though I have not been found. Doctor, 
 among your flock, I have been attending places 
 of worship in which I have heard the cause of 
 God, of religion, and of humanity, advocated in 
 several chapels, in which have been made col- 
 lections that would have delighted the Apostles 
 themselves. There are — let me reckon, — one, 
 two, — at least six, that have lately occupied my 
 attention, and drawn from all the neighbouring 
 country large crowds of Christians." 
 
 " Yes, and money from the pockets of those 
 who could ill spare the contents," again inter- 
 rupted the Doctor. " You will allow me the 
 
THE LITURGY. 207 
 
 liberty of an old friend to observe, that it would 
 have been more becoming the Hon. Mrs. Dray- 
 more, to be found in the Church of her Fore- 
 fathers, than in conventicles, or schismatic 
 assemblies." 
 
 " Quite barbarous, Doctor. The Church of 
 my Forefathers ! how unfashionable ! As if 
 that ought to have any weight with me, who am 
 now patroness of half-a-dozen societies, which 
 can boast of reckoning nobility among their 
 members. Besides, the old-fashioned style of 
 worship, which our forefathers observed, is too , 
 antique and dull to suit me. 1 would have as 
 great a change take place in this as has been 
 effected in dress. I know of nothing to which 
 I can better compare it than the stiff, starch, 
 prim, demure costume of former days." 
 
 " And," replied the Doctor, " there is no- 
 thing to which your new and popular worship 
 may more aptly be likened, than the thin, gauzy, 
 crimped, transparent ton of modern times. 
 Here, Madam, we each find a simile, suiting 
 our respective habits and taste. But as you 
 deal more in similes than I do, Mr. Deacon, let 
 us have your opinion on the subject." 
 
208 THE LITURGY. 
 
 " The brilliancy of Mrs. Draymore's wit 
 sparkles so vividly," answered Mr. Deacon, 
 " til at I dare not venture any opinion, lest I be 
 deemed barbarous and unfashionable." 
 
 " Very modest, indeed, and very becoming," 
 observed the lady. " But, to speak the truth, 
 Doctor, I begin to find your Church prayers too 
 long, too tedious, and too dry ; they want also 
 novelty." 
 
 " Rather say," answered the Doctor, " that 
 the taste of many in these days is so vapid, 
 flimsy, unsound, and fastidious, that every thing 
 venerable, established, and good, operates as a 
 nauseate. Now, my good lady, where lies the 
 fault? — in the form of prayers, or in those who 
 pray ? I am old-fashioned and ungallant. My 
 years may plead my apology. But here is my 
 fellow-labourer, who, though not half my years, 
 entertains the same opinion as I do." 
 
 " I shall be very glad to hear any argument 
 either you or your friend may advance," said 
 Mrs. Draymore, " only do not be too prolix, 
 for remember, ' brevity is the soul of wit.' " 
 
 " Doctor," said Mr. Deacon, " I have an en- 
 gagement which calls me another way. I am 
 sorry I must now take my leave of you. At six 
 
THE LITURGY. 209 
 
 o'clock I will call again to attend you to Mr. 
 Armstrong's." Then bowing to Mrs. Dray- 
 more, he left the room. 
 
 " You will probably have more reverence, 
 Madam, for established prayers, when I inform 
 you, that our Liturgy is founded upon institu- 
 tions which have God for their author," said 
 the Doctor. 
 
 " That may, indeed, give sanction to your 
 prayers," she replied, " but they would, never- 
 theless, be more attractive, if they were not a 
 set form. It is the extemporaneous mode of 
 praying which gives Sectarists such an immense 
 advantage over the establishment. There is 
 something in a prayer uttered off-hand that wins 
 attention, and can be better adapted to the seve- 
 ral wants and circumstances of a congregation 
 than a set form." 
 
 " And yet, my good Madam," replied the 
 Doctor, " that mode of praying which wins 
 your admiration, is a preconcerted and set form 
 of words. Nay, start not; however original 
 and off-hand the prayer may be in the mouth 
 of the preacher, it becomes a fixed and pre- 
 scribed form to the congregation, who must 
 either follow his words and expressions, or 
 
210 THE LITURGY. 
 
 cause a confused jargon of sounds, without 
 sense or piety. Thus your conventicles afford 
 a more arbitrary mode of worship than can 
 possibly be objected to us. For I assert, it 
 must be much better to know before what you 
 are going to address to the throne of grace, 
 than to be the mere automaton of any one, 
 whose ravings pass for zeal, and incoherencies 
 for inspiration. Now, Madam, what have you 
 to reply to this ? Strip your would-be original 
 prayers of their apparent novelty, and divest 
 them of their outward trick, and what are they ? 
 Unless they be pre-composed, and I will ven- 
 ture to assert, that in almost all cases they are, 
 they will too often abound with inconsistencies, 
 and be full of wildness and cant. But if they 
 are pre-composed, then are they to all intents 
 and purposes no longer extemporaneous, but 
 what you so highly deprecate in us, ' a set form.* 
 But farther yet, — " 
 
 " Hold, hold ; allow me at least the privilege 
 of my sex ; for if I may not talk, I may not live," 
 said Mrs. Draymore, with a smile. " You will 
 not easily prove that your Liturgy is modelled 
 after inspired forms, because that which flows 
 immediately from the heart must have more of 
 
THE LITURGY. 211 
 
 inspiration in it than that which is written in 
 characters which any dull soul may know and 
 learn, who is possessed of the knowledge to dis- 
 cern A from B." 
 
 " Your objection, if true, would also exist 
 aorainst the word of God. But besides, have 
 you forgotten that Moses and the Israehtes 
 used a set form of thanksgiving and prayer ? 
 Since we cannot suppose that they could all 
 join simultaneously, and with one voice and 
 tune in that song, unless they had first com- 
 posed and then learned it; for they not only 
 sang but danced to it. Ezra, too, constituted 
 a prescribed form of service for the temple, 
 ' after the ordinance of David, king of Israel;* 
 and Ezra was inspired by the spirit of God. 
 If he then thought a prescribed form necessary, 
 how much more so is it for us, who are not 
 possessed of the same inspiration ? This ' set 
 form ' was used by the Jews in the time of the 
 Saviour ; and that he and his disciples used it, 
 may be inferred from the absence of any charge 
 against him for neglecting it. I had forgot to 
 say, that Ezra and the wise men of the great 
 council also prepared eighteen benedictions or 
 prayers, adapted as well for confession as peti- 
 
212 THE LITURGY. 
 
 tion, for intercession as thanksgiving to God; 
 and these were used by the Jews till the de- 
 struction of their city. John the Baptist, also, 
 taught his disciples to pray, and that the Saviour 
 did the same, the Lord's Prayer is an irrefra- 
 gable evidence. And the circumstance of his 
 using the same words at three different times 
 in the garden, during his agony, is no less 
 convincing. Add to which, the form given by 
 God himself, in Deuteronomy *, and the Psalms 
 of David, many of which are set prayers. And 
 that the early Christians had a form of worship, 
 we learn not only from the Apostles themselves, 
 but from the various authors, who, in each suc- 
 ceeding age, wrote on this subject." 
 
 " Your arguments are strong, I confess," 
 said Mrs. Draymore, " yet I must declare my- 
 self rather sceptical, after all, on this subject. 
 The prayers are too long, not sufficiently com- 
 prehensive, and not fervent enough." 
 
 " As to their length," replied the Doctor, 
 " give me leave to say, that they are only too 
 long and irksome to those whose eyes are taking 
 the pattern of every fashionable article of dress 
 
 *xxi. 7, 8. 
 
THE LITURGY. 21 S 
 
 in the Church, and reconnoitring every counte- 
 nance within observation." 
 
 " Why, you barbarous man," said the lady, 
 " can you really think that withdraws my at- 
 tention ? But supposing it does, the fault lies 
 in their prolixity and heaviness, and this is an- 
 other reason why I congratulate myself in having 
 escaped from the rude customs, as well as cos- 
 tumes, of my simple forefathers." 
 
 " That the Church prayers are not suffi- 
 ciently comprehensive, is a strange assertion. 
 Mention one single thing which man has occa- 
 sion to supplicate at the throne of Heaven, and 
 I will point out some part of our regular 
 service full upon the point. Does the sinner 
 sue for pardon ? What confession can be more 
 plain or contrite than the one found at the 
 commencement of our service? Does he 
 entreat for grace and God's holy help ? Are 
 there not many prayers express for this ? Are 
 not all moral, all social, all spiritual duties 
 comprehended in the Litany? Can, indeed, 
 any thing be conceived more suitable to every 
 condition, circumstance, and casualty of life, 
 than what our Church prayers contain ? Next 
 to God's own book, they are the most precious 
 
214 THE LITURGY. 
 
 treasure we can possess. They breathe piety, 
 devoutness, faith, hope, charity. They are so 
 attempered, so full of good sense, and yet so 
 replete with holy feeling, that a second deluge 
 of ignorance and vice must overrun the world, 
 before their value can be totally disregarded. 
 No, Madam, next to my Bible I venerate my 
 Prayer-book; and in despite of profane parodies, 
 impious raillery, and sectarian indifference, I 
 will store it up as the greatest blessing the 
 Church has known in her latter days. If those 
 who complain of dullness, prolixity, and insuf- 
 ficiency, would join fervently with heart and 
 soul in them, they would soon be ashamed of 
 their objection, and be ready to advocate their 
 cause as warmly as I do." 
 
 " Well, my dear Doctor," replied the lady, 
 " as Festus said unto Paul, ' when I have a 
 more convenient season, I will hear you further.* 
 At present have the goodness to ring the bell 
 for my carriage. Do not be afi'aid that I am 
 totally lost to you, or that my place in your 
 Temple shall never know me again, I respect 
 your virtues as a man, and your conduct as a 
 minister, too much to leave you wholly." So 
 saying, she shook his hand and departed. 
 
THE LITURGY. 215 
 
 When the rattle of the carriage-wheels was 
 ho longer audible, the Doctor, seated in his 
 elbow-chair, began, as was his custom, to can- 
 vass within himself his morning's conversation. 
 Whilst he was thus engaged, his worthy Curate 
 was witnessing a most interesting scene, which 
 had casually presented itself to his notice. A 
 woman had that morning brought to the Church, 
 for his signature, a paper by which her hus- 
 band was entitled to a small quarterly pension. 
 There w^as something in her appearance that 
 forcibly attracted his attention, and his en- 
 quiries respecting her and her husband ended 
 in his resolving to visit them. For it was part 
 of the system adopted by the Rector and 
 himself, in imitation of " the great pattern of 
 perfection," to omit no opportunity of doing 
 good; but wherever a lost sheep was found 
 astray, they were ever ready to bring it back to 
 its fold ; or wherever a wounded Samaritan was 
 discovered, they were ever prompt to pour in 
 the oil and wine, and set him forward on his 
 way. Without much difficulty Mr. Deacon 
 found the house in which the objects of his 
 present attention resided ; it was situated in a 
 long, narrow, dirty street, near the banks of 
 
216 THE LITURGY. 
 
 a navigable canal, which formed one of the 
 boundaries of the town. In this street he had 
 witnessed many a scene of misery ; and in it he 
 had been the happy instrument to silence many 
 a doubt, ease many a surcharged heart, and 
 wipe away many a tear. But, perhaps, on no 
 occasion had he experienced a sight more cal- 
 culated to draw forth his pity, his advice, his 
 assistance. On entering this abode of suffering, 
 his eyes were attracted to one corner of the 
 room, in which was placed a low kind of bed, 
 pressed down by the tortured limbs of one 
 whose broad and squary form had once ranked 
 him among the strong ; and whose countenance, 
 though distorted by pain, and furrowed by age 
 and toil, displayed the honest and open cha- 
 racter peculiar to a British seaman. A very 
 slight coverlet, composed of so many and such 
 various-coloured patches that it was difficult to 
 tell its original, was his only covering. One 
 broken chair and an old sea-chest constituted 
 the sole furniture of the room. On the latter 
 was sitting a female nursing a half-clad child, 
 whose present appearance 
 
 " Gave the sad presage of its future years, 
 The child of misery baptiz'd in tears." 
 
THE LITURGY. 217 
 
 A deep tinge of shame suffused the countenance 
 of this young creature when the Curate entered; 
 and she sought, by hiding her head behind her 
 infant, to conceal her confusion, which was on 
 that account rendered the more apparent. Tlie 
 woman whom Mr. Deacon had seen at the 
 Church was busily employed washing, though 
 it was evident that she was scarcely able to 
 support herself by the side of her tub. 
 
 '' My friends," said the benevolent Curate, 
 " attracted by the application of this good 
 woman, I am come to visit you, more parti-' 
 cularly as I understand that you (addressing 
 himself to the mariner) are grievously afflicted, 
 and unable to assist yourself. I beg to ask 
 what is there in which I can be serviceable to 
 you? for I am sure that whatever lies within the 
 power of myself or Dr. Freeman that may be 
 useful, will most readily be done for you. In- 
 form me, then, that I may endeavour to ad- 
 minister to your comfort." 
 
 " Comfort ! your Honour," replied the poor 
 man ; " alas ! there is no more comfort for me 
 in this world. Neither in body nor mind can 
 I obtain any rest. My limbs are all racked 
 with pain, and all my happiness is wrecked and 
 
 ▼OL. I. L 
 
218 THE LITURGY. 
 
 quite adrift." Here he cast a look of intense 
 feeling at the young woman, down whose cheeks 
 tears were fast trickling, and whose bosom 
 heaved with a heavy sigh. " Comfort ! your 
 Honour," he continued, — " yes, I once was 
 comfortable ; I once was happy." 
 
 " And what," enquired Mr. Deacon, " has 
 caused this unhappy change? I hope you do 
 not speak thus merely from your bodily suf- 
 fering, or from any doubtings of mind. Tell 
 me honestly, I beg of you, for though * heavi- 
 ness may endure for a night, joy cometh in the 
 morning.' " 
 
 " No, your Honour, no; I should be ashamed 
 to have it said, that I, who have been in the 
 midst of bullets, and swords, and splinters, com- 
 plained because my limbs were painful. That, 
 your Honour, would be a disgrace to a British 
 I'ar. I have seen hunger and danger without 
 murmuring ; and I never flinched when our 
 surgeon sawed off the remnant of this stump," 
 layino- his hand upon his knee; " and I should 
 be very sorry to fli)ich now, though my old 
 timbers are plagued with rheumatics. But your 
 Honour" — here he paused as if to collect 
 resolution to go on. At length he continued — 
 
THE LITURGY. 219 
 
 " But your Honour, a shot has struck my main- 
 sail," now laying his hand upon his heart, " and 
 my crazy vessel can make but little way. Polly," 
 he said, turning to the young woman, " come 
 here and give thy poor old father a kiss, and 
 help him to tell his story." 
 
 " O father!" replied the young woman, in a 
 tone that withered as she spoke, " spare, spare 
 me this." 
 
 The old woman now dried her hands, and 
 leaning her elbows on the tub, took up the 
 story in these words : " You see that young 
 woman, your Honour ; she is our daughter, 
 and as clever a girl she was as any body's, aye 
 and as good too, before — Oh, Sii', before she 
 was led away by a young fellow, who ruined 
 her. Tliat, your Honour, is the cause of alV 
 our present misery and distress. Before this 
 we worked hard, and lived very comfortably ; 
 our earnings were, to be sure, trifling, but they, 
 with my husband's pension, were plenty for our 
 support. He has served — " 
 
 " Sue," said the old Tar, " let me tell my 
 own story. I am a thorough-bred sailor, your 
 Honour, for both my father and grandfather 
 were so before me. Six-and-forty years, your 
 
 L 2 
 
220 THE LITURGY. 
 
 Honour, I served my king and country, and I 
 am proud to have been under the command of 
 Rodney, Howe, and Nelson, for they were true 
 bits of English oak, and I hope they are now 
 anchored in heaven. About twenty years since 
 I married, but had'nt been long on shore before 
 I was called off again to action ; and when the 
 gallant Nelson lost his life, I lost my leg, and 
 was then laid by, as unfit for semce. My wife 
 and child, and myself, came then to live here, 
 your Honour, for this was her native place, and 
 she had many good friends that employed her to 
 wash for them, and so we brought up this young 
 woman as well as we could, and she learned to 
 read, and she was always very good and very 
 steady ; and two years since she went out to 
 live in a family, where her mother was char- 
 woman, and there, your Honour, she was de- 
 ceived by a scoundrel who had promised her 
 marriage. But she is not a hardened sinner, 
 and the misery she has suffered, and made her 
 mother and me suffer, has been a severe punish- 
 ment to her. We have scarcely weathered the 
 storm : for we have all been ill, and our land- 
 lord has taken away almost all our furniture for 
 rent, because I could not pay him directly. I 
 
THE LITURGY. 221 
 
 could bear my own sufferings with patience; 
 but when I think of my poor girl's situation, 
 and her past guilt, I am quite unmanned. There 
 she is, and her poor bairn with her. She has 
 tasted nothing for two days, and that's a bad 
 thinor for a nurse." 
 
 . " Father, father !" exclaimed the vounc 
 woman, " you forget w^hat comforts you have 
 given up for my sake ; you have spent all your 
 little pension ; your furniture has been taken 
 away; you have made yourself so poor, that you 
 cannot buy even tobacco ; and you forget that 
 if I haven't eaten for tw o days, it is longer since 
 you and my mother did." 
 
 " Peace, child," said the old Tar, " do not 
 blab so much ; why did you tell his Honour 
 that ?" 
 
 " But why did you not wush me to know it?" 
 enquired the Curate ; '' surely it was necessary 
 that I should know the circumstance, in order 
 to form a just estimate of your character and 
 sufferings, and afford you relief. I admire your 
 manliness, and I trust you will one day reap 
 your reward. With respect to your daughter, 
 much as I abhor the wretch who has ruined her 
 peace, and blame her for allowing him to have 
 
 L 3 
 
222 THE LITURGY. 
 
 done it, yet you, as a father and a Christian, could 
 not have acted otherwise than you have done. 
 You have interjiosed in time ; and I trust that 
 by so doing you will be able to save her from 
 plunging into that pit of vice and horror, which 
 they too often fall into who err as she has. 
 You say she is penitent and has suffered much. 
 May her penitence be lasting and sincere, and 
 receive its completion by her suffering ! I should 
 ill discharge my duty, seeing you circumstanced 
 as you are, w^ere I to utter reproaches. No, 
 young woman ; your own conscience will do 
 that, without any other help. I will rather con- 
 sole you, and endeavour to direct your thoughts 
 to that gracious Being, who tempers his justice 
 with mercy, and rejects not the vilest of sinners. 
 I will not say, endeavour to forget the past. No, 
 let it ever remind you of your own weakness ; 
 and point out to you that, unless assisted by 
 your kind and merciful God, you are in danger 
 of falling : and when you think you stand 
 firmest, ' take heed lest you fall,' for then is 
 your greatest danger. To him, therefore, apply, 
 who alone can give you peace, and may He 
 ' who heals the broken heart,' bless your en- 
 deavours. In the meantime you shall not want 
 
THE LITURGY. 223 
 
 that assistance which regards either your body 
 or soul. And I fervently trust, that you will 
 again see better days, and that your fire-side 
 mav ao^ain smile as it was wont to do." 
 
 " God urant it too," said the old woman. 
 
 " Amen," answered the Tar, and his coun- 
 tenance rather brightened up. " If I could see 
 my poor girl," he continued, '' more comfort- 
 able, it would be like throwing guns overboard 
 in a storm ; and I pray to God, as well as I can, 
 that he would bless us-" 
 
 " There you are right," replied the Curate. 
 " I remember to have seen you at CHurch, and 
 at the sacrament, and I hope to see you there 
 again." 
 
 " That you will, your Honour," said the 
 woman ; for he often talks about it ; and I am 
 sure the Church will be the first place he will 
 go to, when he gets to walk out again." 
 
 " \Miy, your Honour, I told you I was a 
 tliorough-bred Sailor; and I hope I am a 
 thorouffh-bred Churchman too : for I like none 
 of your new sorts of folks, that prate so much 
 about religion. It's all like the cracking of 
 French jruns at a distance — all noise, but little 
 
 execution. 
 
 L 4 
 
224 THE LITURGY. 
 
 During this last observation, Mr. Deacon 
 had slipped half-a-crown into the hands of the 
 woman, to buy them some food for their pre- 
 sent necessities ; then having promised to speak 
 to their landlord about returning their furniture, 
 he said that he would call again to see them. 
 
 " Alas ! thought he, as he turned his steps to 
 his lodgings, how little do they, who roll in 
 affluence, and riot in plenty, know of the 
 misery which every where surrounds them ! 
 What a wretch must he be, who can rob the 
 flower of innocence of all its beauty, and strip 
 the lovely rose of peace of all its charms I 
 Man, man, thou art a strange compound ! 
 Some imitate the actions of angels, others the 
 enormity of demons. Well, therefore, may the 
 denizens of heaven rejoice over the repentant 
 sinner, when they look down and view such in- 
 consistency on earth. 
 
 At six o'clock Mr. Deacon repaired to the 
 Rectory, and found Dr. Freeman quite ready 
 to accompany him. To him he related the in- 
 teresting scene he had witnessed, which failed 
 not to excite the sympathy of that excellent 
 man ; who, in turn, gave him a short sketch of 
 the discussion between himself and Mrs. Dray- 
 
THE LITURGY. 225 
 
 more. " You may perhaps wonder," he con- 
 tinued, " at our familiarity ; but you will cease 
 to do so, when I inform you that at twelve 
 years of age she was left to my guardianship. 
 Possessed of a large fortune and many attrac- 
 tions, she was the idol of the gallants, and the 
 object of general admiration. At the age of 
 one-and-twenty she gave herself and her fortune 
 to her late husband, at that time the star of 
 fashion, but his brilliancy soon set in the night of 
 death. She has now been three years a widow; 
 and lately, Mon over by the love of popular ad- 
 miration, she has lent her name and personal 
 services to all sectaries who asked for them." 
 
 Tliey had now reached Mr. Armstrong's : 
 and having taken their tea, and discussed the 
 leading topics of the day, the Doctor gradually 
 adverted to their morning's conversation ; and 
 after some few preliminary remarks, the subject 
 engrossed the attention of all. 
 
 " Before we advance any further on this sub- 
 ject," said Mr. Armstrong, " you would per- 
 haps favour us with the meaning of the word 
 Sacrament ?" 
 
 " Wisely suggested," replied the Doctor. 
 " The word Sacrament, though used to desig- 
 
 L 5 
 
226 THE LITURGY. 
 
 nate a most solemn Cliristiaii rite, is of heathen 
 origin, and anciently signified the oath taken 
 by Roman soldiers, when they were enrolled. 
 Hence it came to be used for that oath or 
 solemn service of the church, by which all the 
 followers of Christ pledge themselves to be faith- 
 ful to the Captain of their salvation. This is 
 first done in Baptism, and afterwards in the 
 Lord's Supper. The first is the initiation, or 
 beginning; the other is the full execution of 
 that pledge." 
 
 " And its institution," observed Mr. Deacon, 
 " was at once the most solemn and impressive 
 that can be imagined. Can you figure to your- 
 selves any thing: more interestino; than the view 
 of the Saviour and his disciples, when he was 
 eating with them his last supper ? Imagine, if 
 you can, the Lamb of God in the act of raising 
 his eyes to heaven, and blessing and breaking 
 bread, whilst his followers are fixing on him 
 their anxious eyes, and wondering in holy 
 amazement w^hat this meant. Can you hear his 
 solemn words, ' This do in remembrance of 
 me,' without feeling your hearts dilate with 
 holy gratitude, and anxiety to fulfil his last re- 
 quest?" 
 
THE LITURGY. 22? 
 
 " You mean to say, then," interrupted Mrs. 
 Armstronjj, " that the Comnumion was re- 
 quested by the Saviour to be observed in re- 
 membrance of him." 
 
 " Not merely requested," said the Doctor, 
 *' but commanded, that all who wished to share 
 the benefits of his death and mediation should 
 observe this his Supper. And this adds great 
 force and responsibility to it." 
 
 " But," observed Mrs. Armstrong, " how 
 can we ' eat his body and drink his blood?' 
 This is an inconsistency which I can bv no 
 means reconcile." 
 
 " You err in not knowing the Scriptures," 
 replied Dr. Freeman. " This Sacrament was 
 designed to supersede the use of the Jewish 
 pascha, or passover, which was observed by 
 them in commemoration of their deliverance 
 from the bondage of Eg\^t. As a lamb was 
 the subject in the Jewish feast, the flesh of 
 which was eaten, and the blood sprinkled on 
 the door-posts, that the destroying angel might 
 pass over the house in which this was observed: 
 so is Christ the lamb slain for us, whose body 
 broken on the tree, and whose blood shed for 
 our redemption, are to be eaten and drank by 
 
 L 6 
 
^28 THE LITURGY. 
 
 faithful Christians, who have a ' lively re- 
 membrance of his death,' and are desirous of 
 salvation." 
 
 " You have not yet satisfactorily answered 
 Mrs. Armstrong's query," said her husband ; 
 " that we cannot eat his body and drink hi* 
 blood." 
 
 " Though you cannot in reality do tliis," re- 
 plied Mr. Deacon, " yet what difficulty can 
 there be in it? It is only a symbolical expression : 
 and bread and wine are the elements used to 
 represent to us his body and blood. They were 
 chosen by the Saviour himself; and for this 
 reason, that being thus prefigured before our 
 eyes, they might convey to us a more lively and 
 efficient idea of the exceedingly great benefits to 
 be derived from the sufferings of the Redeemer. 
 It is only in a spiritual sense that we do this : 
 for when our Lord says, ' My flesh is meat in- 
 deed, and my blood is drink indeed,' he means 
 not in a carnal or corporeal way, but spiritually. 
 How else could he at one and the same time 
 sanctify, and be found efficacious in the celebra- 
 tion of his Supper, in places far remote from 
 each other ? Or how could his body have been 
 continued to form the subject of a feast, from 
 
THE LITURGY. 229 
 
 the institution of the Sacrament to this day i 
 You strip it of all its beauty, sanctity, and virtue, 
 when vou attribute to it this sfrossness and 
 sensuality ; but conceive of it as it really is, a 
 spiritual and divine feast, a medium through 
 which the Holy Spirit is conveyed to man, and 
 your ideas become more lofty and sublime; and 
 your views will be followed by the same heavenly 
 advantages. I contend, it is derogatory to the 
 majesty and influence of God, to suppose that 
 he has a body, and that that body can be eaten 
 by man. No ; the Lord's Supper is something 
 more than a common feast ; it is a banquet of 
 love, of peace, of charity." 
 
 " And," said the Doctor, " as blood and water 
 came from the side of the Saviour when pierced 
 by a spear, the two symbols of the Sacraments 
 of our Church correspond with that event. For. 
 a^ water sprinkles or washes away our natural 
 corruptions, and as wine strengthens and in- 
 vigorates the body, so the water which came 
 from the Saviour's side washes away the imput- 
 ation of our original sin in Baptism, and his 
 blood in his Holy Supper, insures to us this ablu- 
 tion, and imparts strength and refreshment to 
 our souls, when weary with the burden of ini- 
 
230 THE LITURGY. 
 
 quity. This will, I hope, satisfy you as to the 
 correctness of usiiiir those elements in the Sa- 
 crament." 
 
 " It does," replied Mr. Armstrong, " and 
 the more so, because I never scrupled so much 
 at the elements in themselves, as at the danger 
 which they incur wlio partake of them un- 
 worthily." 
 
 " x\h !" said Mrs. Armstrong, " I always 
 shudder when I hear the words, ' they eat and 
 drink their own damnation.' Because I am 
 sure, that there is no one so good who does not 
 commit sin. And how dreadful must it be for 
 them that they have eaten and drank their own 
 damnation. This is so serious a consideration, 
 tliat I wonder how people have the presumption 
 to communicate at all." 
 
 " Allow me to observe," said Mr. Deacon, 
 " that on this principle no one ought to receive, 
 much less to administer the Sacrament; which 
 amounts to saying, that the Almighty has instil 
 tuted an ordinance which has for its object the 
 welfare of man ; and yet that it is impossible for 
 man to observe it, without incurring eternal 
 punishment. Now this converts the all- wise 
 and all-good God into a Being capable of 
 
THE LITURGY. 231 
 
 deceit and injustice. An idea how ungrateful 
 in us, and how detractive from its perfection !" 
 " The foundation of this principle," said the 
 Doctor, " is probably in part right ; but the 
 extent to which it is carried is so totally wide 
 of every thing we know and experience from the 
 goodness of God, that I must set you right on 
 this subject. First, then, let me suppose that 
 you, Mr. Armstrong, as the head of a family, 
 just before your death, leave it as the sole con- 
 dition of inheritance of your property, gained 
 by your own endeavours, that your heirs shall 
 observe, with great strictness, any thing that 
 you propose ; surely you would not desire any 
 thing to be done by them, which it would be 
 impossible for them to perform ?" 
 
 " I hope. Doctor, I should not be so absurd." 
 " And if your proposal be just and reason- 
 able," he continued, " your children would be 
 deemed ungrateful and blind to their own in- 
 terest, if they neglected to observe it. Now, to 
 use the language of the Gospel : ' If you, then, 
 being evil, know how to give good gifts unto 
 your children, how much more has your Father 
 which is in Heaven given good things to you f 
 God is our Father and we his children : his 
 
*232 THE LITURGV. 
 
 Son died for us, and gave us an holy rite to ob- 
 serve, as our acknowledgement or title-deed to 
 what he gained for us. And every time we 
 repeat this Communion, we renew the Cove- 
 nant of Grace, and show ourselves desirous of 
 the benefits of his mediation, and the assistance 
 of his Holy Spirit. How blind, how ungrate- 
 ful then, must they be, who neglect to ratify 
 on their parts what is required of them ! But 
 in order that you may be the more satisfied on 
 this point, I would further observe, in reference 
 to the words which are so great a stumbling- 
 block to you, what has been before explained 
 by almost every writer upon the subject, that 
 this denunciation is addressed by the Apostle to 
 the Christians at Corinth, who disgraced the 
 decorum and spirituality of the Communion, by 
 celebrating it as the most depraved among them 
 would have partaken of a common feast, out of 
 entire re^rard to their bodies and not their souls: 
 with a desire to pamper the depraved appetite 
 of the outer, rather than support the spiritual 
 wants of the inner, man. Such communicants 
 as these were threatened with the greatest tem- 
 poral punishment; with sickness, with affliction. 
 
THE LITURGY. 233 
 
 or with other human casualties ; for the word 
 * damnation' does not here siffnif\' eternal tor- 
 ment, or indeed any punishment beyond the 
 grave, as may be easily learnt from the original 
 word, and from the context of St. Paul's account 
 of the Sacrament. Now into this error we are 
 never likely to fall, because whenever the Eu- 
 charist is celebrated in our churches, it is of all 
 ordinances performed with the greatest sacred- 
 ness and devotion : and from the very mode of 
 its administration, it can never run into any 
 such extravagance as to bear the most distant 
 resemblance to a common feast. I assert, there- 
 fore," continued the Doctor, " that we have 
 nothing to fear from an unworthy participation, 
 so long as we do it with reverence ; for it must 
 be evident to those, who consider the subject 
 attentively? that the unwoithiness to which the 
 Apostle alludes does not refer to the disposition 
 of mind of the Communicant, but to the out- 
 ward manner in which he partakes of it. ' He 
 that eateth and drinketh unworthily, eateth 
 and drinketh judgment to himself;' that is, he 
 who partakes of this divinely appointed feast in 
 an unworthy manner^ incurs the visitation uf 
 
234- THE LITURGY. 
 
 worldly sorrow : for if only they were to cele- 
 brate this comnumion, who from righteousness 
 and true holiness were alone worthy in them- 
 selves to partake of it, this would preclude all 
 persons from resorting to the table of the Lord, 
 because the most perfect among men are at 
 best but unprofitable and unworthy servants. 
 This would, also, preclude the Ministers, the 
 Priests of the Lord, from the administration of 
 it, because they, too, are unworthy to perform 
 so sacred an office. It is on this point that so 
 many are mistaken from a want of a due consi- 
 deration of the terms in which the injunction is 
 couched, and the manner in which the ordinance 
 is prescribed." 
 
 " I confess," said Mr. Armstrong, " I never 
 before considered it in this point of view ; but 
 surely if this unworthiness applies not to the 
 person communicating, but to the manner of 
 celebration, and the denunciation of punish- 
 ment refers only to worldly sufferings, all 
 apprehensions on the subject are at once re- 
 moved, and none need entertain even a scruple 
 about it. And yet we find, that they who are 
 constant partakers of it. entertain the most 
 
THE LITURGY. 235 
 
 serious notions of a due preparation for it, 
 which, in my opinion, implies the apprehension 
 of danger." 
 
 " These," replied the Doctor, " show more 
 anxiety to obtain the benefit which it confers, 
 than solicitude to escape from any impending 
 danger ; because they are convinced, that if 
 with a true heart and lively faith they receive 
 the Sacrament, the Spirit of God at that time 
 visits them in an especial manner ; for as their 
 ' bodies then become temples of the living God,' 
 they naturally infer, that, from a sincere and 
 devout observance of this sacred rite, they 
 derive a greater and a more liberal supply of 
 heavenly grace and favour than at any other 
 time ; and so indeed it is ; and on this ground 
 alone, setting aside the observance of it as ob- 
 ligatory upon all, it ranks first and foremost of all 
 religious duties ; one which cannot be neglected 
 without a manifest contempt of the authority 
 which instituted it ; nor properly observed with- 
 out deriving that consolation of mind, that re- 
 novation of virtuous feeling, and that accession 
 of spiritual edification which it is the direct ob- 
 ject of the ordinance to insure to such as devoutly 
 observe it." 
 
236 THE LITURGY. 
 
 " But," replied Mr. Armstrong, " since you 
 admit that some preparation is necessary, in 
 what does that preparation consist ?" 
 
 " Refer," said Mr. Deacon, " to the service 
 itself, and you will find it distinctly stated, that 
 the partakers are to ' repent truly of their past 
 sins ; to have a lively and a steadfast faith in 
 Christ, the Saviour — to amend their lives — and 
 to be in perfect charity with all men ;' — and in 
 this manner they become ' meet partakers ol' 
 those holy mysteries.' And since the benefits 
 of this communion are so exceedingly great and 
 important, the means of preparation so easy, 
 and the act in itself, literally, so heavenly, I am 
 at a loss to conceive what thinking, what vir- 
 tuous and godly mmd, can withstand the direct 
 entreaties of the Son of God thus to communi- 
 cate, or can hear unheeded the solicitation to a 
 participation of it which the Ministers of the 
 Gospel of the same Jesus conceive it to be their 
 especial duty so frequently and so earnestly to 
 inculcate." 
 
 " But here," said Mr. Armstrong, " I feel 
 inclined to complain ; the Clergy are for ever 
 preaching upon this subject, and ringing it into 
 our ears, and in my opinion, do so without any 
 
THE LITURGY. 237 
 
 benefit. For they who have no scruples will 
 attend the Sacrament, whether so continually 
 invited to it or not ; and they that entertain, 
 what I consider to be humble and devout ap- 
 prehensions of it, are annoyed at having their 
 scrupulous feelings questioned and upbraided : 
 they feel that the attack so often made upon 
 them is a violation of the exercise of the liberty 
 of conscience, and they are, by these means, 
 in most instances, deterred from the duty, rather 
 than persuaded to a compliance with it ; this is 
 the reason why we have so frequently abstained 
 from going to the Church at all upon these 
 occasions." 
 
 " Then permit me to say, Mr. Armstrong," 
 added the Doctor, *' that such conduct is per- 
 fectly unjustifiable, and that it is cowardly and 
 weak in the extreme. You that are a zealous 
 adherent to the doctrines of the Church, and, 
 upon all other occasions, are found a constant 
 attendant upon its services, ought to know that 
 the Sacrament is the first and principal of all its 
 rites and duties ; and that the more unconvinced 
 you are of its necessity, and the more you abstain 
 from its observance, so much the more it be- 
 comes our imperious duty, by every mode of 
 
238 THE LITURGY. 
 
 argument and entreaty, to call you to an ac- 
 knowledgment of its efficacy and decided 
 sanctity. That we should inculcate no other 
 duties to which you object but this, ought to 
 have raised in your own mind a scruple at least, 
 whether you were not mistaken in your appre- 
 hensions of it ; instead, therefore, of keeping at 
 a distance, and beyond the reach of our en- 
 treaties, it would have been bolder, more candid, 
 and open, to have listened with attention to all 
 we adduced, to have weighed well our reason- 
 ing, and then to have made up your mind upon 
 the subject of it. Your systematic endeavour to 
 escape our exhortations carries with it a tacit 
 acknowledgment that you were obstinately bent 
 upon resisting our solicitations, to enlist you in 
 this especial service of your Redeemer : not 
 that you could oppose a stronger reasoning to 
 bear down upon what we advanced. As, there- 
 fore, you have adopted a mode of action in this 
 respect, which, I am persuaded, your calm and 
 unprejudiced reflection ought long since to have 
 condemned, I have only to add, that, as the 
 Ministers of God, we have, in this instance, 
 done our duty. We have repeatedly shown you 
 the way in which you are to walk, and have as 
 
THE LITURGY. ^39 
 
 constantly exerted our reasoning faculties to 
 convince you of the truth of what, in the name 
 of God, we have required of you. It appears 
 either from some inefficient reasons, or from a 
 determined and settled opposition, you have 
 withstood all our attempts to bring conviction 
 home to your minds ; nothing further, therefore, 
 is left us to say, than that when the great day of 
 the Lord shall arrive, and we shall stand before 
 the awful tribunal of the Judge of the whole 
 Earth, when all our deeds shall be brought to 
 light, and the principles of action, and the 
 inward thoughts of the heart, shall be openly 
 manifested, it will then appear that w^e, the 
 pastors of this flock, have made every exertion 
 in our power to bring you to a sense of the im- 
 portance of that Holy Communion which our 
 Saviour, our God, and, in that great day, our 
 Judge, instituted as a means of spiritual purifi- 
 cation, and of pious gratitude for the blessings 
 ' which, by his precious blood-shedding, he 
 hath obtained for us.' It will then be asked of 
 you, whether, in humility and simpleness of 
 heart, you received these instructions on the 
 nature of this reasonable service — whether you 
 were not exhorted in the name of Heaven to 
 
24-0 THE LITURGY. 
 
 partake of the Feast of the Lamb, and to com- 
 ply with the dying injunction of tJie Redeemer? 
 — and whether your abstaining from the duty 
 was the result of absolute tenderness of con- 
 science, or the mere determination of an un- 
 willing and negligent mind ? I leave it with 
 you to consider what reply it will best become 
 you to make upon that fearful occasion, and 
 shall only recall to your memory the treatment 
 of that servant who knew his Lord's will, and 
 would not obey it, that ' he was beaten with 
 maiiy stripes.' " 
 
 The Doctor now rose to depart, when Mr. 
 Armstrong, impressed with the earnestness of 
 manner in which he had been addressed, said, 
 " Doctor, I fear that I may have mven offence ; 
 but, believe me, my error proceeds from ignor- 
 ance, and not intention. I must confess I can 
 make no reply to what you have advanced, and 
 I assure you that I will devote my mind 
 thoroughly to investigate this matter, and will 
 seriously reflect upon all that you have now so 
 powerfully adduced ; and if I do not immedi- 
 ately promise to present myself at the commu- 
 nion table, upon the next occasion of a Sacra- 
 ment, I at least pledge myself never again wilfully 
 
THE LITURGY. 24*1 
 
 to abstain fi'om attending the services of that 
 day : indeed, I am not only open to conviction, 
 but it is my anxious desire to arrive at truth, 
 and to practise zealously, and with earnestness, 
 the duties of a Christian." 
 
 The Doctor and his Curate now took their 
 leave and departed. 
 
 VOL. I. M 
 
242 
 
 THE ASSIZES. 
 
 Soon after the Assizes had commenced, Dr. 
 Freeman received an invitation from his neigh- 
 bour, Mr. Hawke, to dine with him on the 
 following day, to meet some of the barristers 
 on the circuit, who had just promised him the 
 pleasure of their company. This invitation the 
 Doctor felt in no way disposed to reftise, as it 
 promised to throw him into the society of well- 
 educated men ; men, generally, of enlarged 
 minds, who, from their talents and reading, 
 were esteemed acquisitions to every circle, and 
 from whom, upon subjects of literature and 
 current inteUigence, much information was at all 
 times to be derived. The same invitation had 
 also been given to Mr. Deacon, who, together 
 with the Rector, was received by their host with 
 all that good breeding for which he was justly 
 distinguished. Serjeant Standforth, one of the 
 leading counsel at the bar, who was there also, 
 
THE ASSIZES. 243 
 
 had been contemporary with the Doctor at 
 college ; and of Mr. Lyttleton and Mr. Shere- 
 block, two junior counsel, the latter had been a 
 school-fellow with Mr. Deacon ; so that the 
 party in every way promised an agreeable 
 meeting. After partaking of an elegant repast, 
 to which one and all paid no very limited de- 
 votion ; for exercise of mind awakens the func- 
 tions of appetite perhaps more powerfully than 
 that of the body, the cloth was removed, and 
 discussion became free and animated. After 
 the conversation had been brought from the 
 common politics, and thence to the common 
 pursuits of the day, the current of it was turned 
 to the general business of the Assizes. It is 
 upon such occasions that a stranger picks up 
 the opinions entertained of the peculiar talents 
 of the Judges, as well as of the characters of 
 the leading men at the bar, " the Bother'ems 
 and the Bore'ems" of the day, from their own 
 brethren ; painted, to be sure, afi«r the taste of 
 the biologist, whose sentiments, therefore, are 
 to be received not on the strength of what he 
 advances, but in respect to the station and rank 
 which he himself fills in the estimation of the 
 profession. In the present instance, it was not 
 
 M 2 
 
24-4 THE ASSIZES. 
 
 unamusing to observe how the younger counsel 
 approved or censured the discernment, or the 
 want of it, in their presiding superiors, though 
 it required no great depth of penetration to see 
 that they commonly spoke from the impressions 
 made upon them by the failure or success of the 
 suits which they had conducted. 
 
 " Did you not observe," said Lyttleton, " the 
 pains and trouble it cost me to make old Nestor 
 perceive the point on which my case hung to- 
 day ? how, when he got impatient at my per- 
 severance in maintaining, that both Coke and 
 Hale had, in similar circumstances, confirmed 
 the decision at which I was aiming, (which, by 
 the bye, I rather suspect he had either never 
 seen or could not understand,) I was compelled 
 to tickle him like a trout into good humour 
 again ; and though at last I got him upon the 
 very scent I wished him to follow, we came 
 suddenly to a check, and he gave his opinion 
 point blank against the authorities I had pro- 
 duced ? No : I admit that he is perfectly the 
 Gentleman, but certainly not a great Lawj^er !" 
 " And yet," rejoined the Serjeant, " I think 
 he showed some little acumen, when he sug- 
 gested a case to you which bore directly upon 
 
THE ASSIZES. 245 
 
 your side of the question, and carried you off 
 in triumph, yesterday, although I am convinced 
 when you entered the Court you had no hope 
 whatever of gaining a verdict." 
 
 " Oh ! as to quickness," said Shereblock, 
 taking up the discourse, " what I have to com- 
 plain of is, that unfortunately he possesses too 
 much, and seems not very unwilling to display 
 it. He ruined a case at the last place we came 
 from (the only one for which I was retained) 
 by putting the point at issue in so strong a light, 
 that just as I had got upon my legs to address 
 the jury, in a speech which cost me a world of 
 consideration, the foreman (be hanged to him !) 
 rose at the very same moment, and told my 
 Lord that he and his companions in the box 
 required no further illustration, for that they 
 had all come to the same opinion with that 
 delivered by the Court : so in the height of my 
 expectations an extinguisher was put over me." 
 
 " Pray, Serjeant Standforth," enquired the 
 Doctor, " are these the received opinions of 
 the professional character of Judge Nestor? 
 For, from the impression made upon me by one 
 of the finest addresses I ever heard delivered 
 from the bench to the jury of the county, on 
 
 M 3 
 
246 THE ASSIZES. 
 
 the day he opened the commission here, I was 
 prepared to hear a very different account." 
 
 " Indeed, Doctor," said he, " I am happy to 
 say these are not the real opinions of the bar, 
 notwithstanding what my young brethren may 
 advance to the contrary'. I have seen him 
 exhibit brilHancy of talent, quickness of mind, 
 and a profundity of knowledge, that have as- 
 tonished the oldest and the best practitioners. 
 There are, certainly, as in all cases, some few 
 points upon which a man may not show the 
 same promptitude of decision which he may 
 exhibit upon others, where his understanding 
 is clearer, or where there is a feeling to call 
 forth his intellectual powers. But he is not 
 only a very good, but a very learned man ; and, 
 as a lawyer, I would rely with as much con- 
 fidence on his judgment, as upon any of those 
 who may be reckoned superior to him. But, 
 Doctor, what did you think of him yourself to- 
 day ; for in such a case as that we have this 
 morning witnessed, no one is better qualified to 
 give an opinion of his merit than yourself?' 
 
 " To what case do you allude ?" asked the 
 Doctor; " for I have myself been so unavoidably 
 detained by business at home, that I have had 
 
THE ASSIZES. S*? 
 
 no time either for attending the court, or for 
 enquiring after its proceedings." 
 
 " Why," continued the Serjeant, " it was one 
 of great interest to your profession. It was the 
 trial of a man of the name of Trap, for the 
 publication of a blasphemous book ; and cer- 
 tainly one more vile and flagitious never was 
 disseminated, even in these days of monstrous 
 innovation. The fellow, undoubtedly, has very 
 considerable talent; he has rummaged up, and 
 disguised in modern attire, all the old exploded 
 arguments of the most notorious infidels that 
 have set themselves in array against the Christian 
 rehgion : but, like the rest of them, he has in- 
 jured, by his conduct, the very cause which it 
 was his hopeful endeavour to promote ; for his 
 positions are so extravagant, so contrary to 
 any thing that is sanctioned by the good and 
 virtuous, that the mask held up to screen his 
 designs is of too thin a texture not to be seen 
 through by those of any penetration." 
 
 " But it unfortunately happens," interrupted 
 the Doctor, " that the mischief befals those who 
 have not this penetration ; those whose minds 
 are not enlightened by even common under- 
 standing. It is here where the evil lurks ; for 
 
 -M 4 
 
248 THE ASSIZES. 
 
 nothing can be more easy than to start objec- 
 tions, and raise discontentment and disbehef: 
 but the difficulty lies in healing the wound thus 
 inflicted : the poison infuses itself with so silent 
 and unobserved rapidity, that the antidote, even 
 if it be apphed, can only follow by imperceptible 
 ■ degrees." 
 
 " That is true," rejoined the Serjeant ; " but 
 yet I think in these times there is a disposition 
 pervading almost all classes of the people to im- 
 bibe religious principles and feelings ; such, I am 
 inclined to believe, as cannot easily be shaken." 
 
 " I, also, am disposed to favour the same 
 opinion," said Mr. Deacon ; " but still I cannot 
 avoid observing the mischievous effects of that 
 industrious circulation of infidel notions which 
 are intended to operate, not so much perhaps 
 upon those who are religious, as upon those 
 who, might otherwise become so ; thus acting as 
 a barrier opposing further entrance into the pale 
 of Christianity." 
 
 " Talkinsr of those who are admitted into the 
 pale of Christianity," resumed the Serjeant, " I 
 am afraid the religious world is so scandalized 
 at our profession, that it has half excluded us 
 from it already ; indeed, I fear there are 
 
THE ASSIZES. 249 
 
 grounds for not looking upon us to be such 
 practical Christians as we ought, or, as I think, 
 we might be." 
 
 " To speak openly," said the Doctor, " I will 
 not conceal the truth that such a notion is very 
 prevalent : but upon what foundation it rests, I 
 am not qualified to answer ; because I have not 
 the means of ascertaining the fact, if I were so 
 disposed; and my inclinati(5n, if it were ex- 
 ercised, prompts me to hope the contrary. I 
 can conceive, that occupied as your minds 
 incessantly are, by the duties and severe studies 
 of your profession, you must naturally desire to 
 dedicate your leisure to any thing that can 
 return a rational relaxation. The nature of the 
 profession obliges you to unwearied application 
 of mind, and to an energy beyond what is 
 required in other occupations of life. In my 
 judgment, the particular in which you seem 
 mostly to fail, is the want of paying greater 
 reverence to the important duties of the Sab- 
 bath, which those who take offence against you 
 conceive to result from the absence of a proper 
 sense and feelinf^ of religion." 
 
 " Doctor," said the Serjeant, " what all the 
 world says, must be true. Indeed, I must 
 
 M 5 
 
250 THE ASSIZES. 
 
 acknowledge, that though not more deficient 
 perhaps than some other professional bodies, 
 yet, upon the whole, we are more so than our 
 situations in the world and our educations should 
 suffer us to be. If, however, we were inclined 
 to make invidious comparisons, and to consider 
 ourselves better from finding others worse, 
 however little religious we may generally be 
 thought, I conceive we stand by many degrees 
 higher than the medical profession, as a body, 
 does; which ought, if possible, to have still 
 stronger motives for being superior to us in this 
 respect. We are led to depend so much upon 
 our own wit and contrivance, and upon laws of 
 human establishment, that we afford no time for 
 considering those of a divine origin ; upon 
 which, if good, they should be founded. But 
 the Faculty experience, by all their senses and 
 all their practice, the unceasing actions of the 
 worder-working God : they are made to see, in 
 every branch of their labours, the astonishing 
 contrivance of the Creator, in the harmony and 
 construction of the human frame; and yet, what 
 is truly surprising, with all this before their 
 eyes, resisting the very evidence of their senses, 
 they have the disposition, and it has lately been 
 
THE ASSIZES. 251 
 
 on the increase, of becoming materialists and 
 sceptics." 
 
 " It so happens," said Mr. Deacon, " that 
 both professions have such unceasing demands 
 upon their time and talents, that they are 
 literally ' choked with the cares and business 
 of life ;' so that they devote little to a higher 
 caUing ; but this is no justification of either. 
 With respect, however, to medical men, it must 
 be considered that they have no relaxation from 
 business, and that they are called upon every 
 day of the seven indiscriminately ; now you 
 have not this excuse to urge for not making a 
 proper distinction between the Sabbath and 
 other days." 
 
 " My good fellow," replied Shereblock, 
 " you do not suppose that, after the most 
 laborious researches into the dry and unedify- 
 ing study of the law for six days in the week, 
 and not unfi:'equently for the seventh also, that 
 we can find time for pursuits unconnected with 
 the profession. You seem to forget that we 
 are not Divines, but Lawyers, and that there is 
 no chance of rising at the bar without incessant 
 labour, and the acquisition of such auxiliary 
 studies as can actually benefit us ; but pray, 
 
 M 6 
 
252 THE ASSIZES. 
 
 let me ask, what time do you devote from your 
 present theological pursuits to the understand- 
 ing of the laws of your country ? None, or 
 very little, I will undertake to say ! Why, then, 
 should you be surprised at our neglect, when 
 you may be charged with a breach of a siniilar 
 nature ?" 
 
 " But, permit me to observe," said Mr. 
 Deacon, " that you take for granted more than 
 I am disposed to allow : the supposition, that I 
 do not turn the current of my studies out ot 
 the channel of my professional pursuits, is not 
 a true one ; for I no more think of confining 
 myself solely to the same occupation or exercise 
 of the mind, than of tying myself down to one 
 unvarying solemnity of deportment and manner. 
 Chanofe is as essential to the mind as to the 
 body. After classical, historical, or other in- 
 structive and agreeable reading, I can return to 
 divinity with a double relish ; in the same man- 
 ner that I can apply with more energy to my 
 practical duties after a seasonable relaxation 
 and amusement. But what I would observe, as it 
 reo-ards your profession, is, that it is too general 
 a habit with your brethren to give the prefer- 
 ence to a Sunday rather than to any other day, 
 
THE ASSIZES. 253 
 
 for travelling and making excursions into the 
 country." 
 
 " Well," continued Shereblock, " and we 
 make this preference for the best of reasons. 
 Are we not naturally glad to breathe a little 
 pure air after six days' suffocation in our cham- 
 bers, or in the more noxious atmosphere of our 
 confined courts ?" 
 
 " But, independent of this," added Lyttleton, 
 " there is so much greater pleasure in rolhng 
 along the road when you meet with no moving 
 impediments on your way ; nor is it a small 
 advantage to be sure of meeting with no delay 
 for want of horses to prosecute your journey." 
 
 " This may be all very well. Gentlemen," 
 said Mr. Deacon, " as far as relates to bodily 
 ease and convenience ; but you cannot be ig- 
 noi'ant that something more is requisite to 
 ensure comfort to us beyond the time we flit 
 away in this earthly state: besides, there are 
 occurrences, even in the transactions of your 
 courts at law, which make it necessary to have 
 some understanding of religious principles and 
 faith." 
 
 " Here, then. Deacon," said Mr. Lyttleton, 
 " here we are at direct issue. I am prepared 
 
254 THE ASSIZES. 
 
 to contend, that if the Deity lias designed us to 
 fill any particular station here, it is our duty, — 
 yes, our religious duty, — to support it by all 
 the means and power which he has given ; and 
 in doing this, we do all that we can be reason- 
 ably called upon to perform. In the next place, 
 as to the help that the study of divinity can 
 afford us upon occasions where matters relating 
 to it are brought before the berich, if you were 
 better acquainted with the routine of our busi- 
 ness, you would find that such religious cases, 
 — such, for instance, as that of Mr. Trap's to- 
 day, — rarely occur. Besides," continued he, 
 smiling, " you cannot be ignorant that it is 
 somewhat of a forensic maxim to stir up strife, 
 rather than ' seek peace and ensue it.' To be 
 sure, in the instances of libel upon Holy Writ, 
 like Trap's case, something is certainly re- 
 quired ; but then, as we are retained some days 
 before the case comes on for trial, we have 
 abundance of time to read enough for the pur- 
 pose : when it is our custom to deal as much as 
 possible in general, rather than in any particular 
 points. I confess, indeed, that Brother Shere- 
 block was a little hampered in bringing home 
 the charge of blasphemy to the defendant to-day; 
 
THE ASSIZES. ^55 
 
 but it is not every body that would have known 
 how to proceed in such a case. I fear it would 
 have required more wit than I am possessed of to 
 have made it out a libel, with such a stiff fellow 
 opposed to me as that Mr. Trap." 
 
 " Lyttleton," said the Serjeant, " let me beg 
 that you will persist no further in such perverse 
 conversation as this." — Then turning towards 
 the Doctor, he continued : — " These young 
 men are so fond of exercising themselves in 
 disputation, that whichever side of an argument 
 you take, they are ever ready to become your 
 opponents ; so that strangers run away conti- 
 nually with the impression that they maintain 
 noxious principles and opinions, because they 
 have been defending them, not upon grounds 
 of their own conviction of their truth, but for 
 the sake of conversation, and to exhibit their 
 readiness to stand forth in whatever way they 
 may be required. — But to return to what we 
 were talking about : — Let me ask, do you not 
 consider that there is a sreat advantage which 
 large provincial towns possess over the metro- 
 polis, with regard to the observation of the 
 Sabbath, where no gross violations of it are 
 known or witnessed ? Now, though no man can 
 
256 THE ASSIZES. 
 
 more highly appreciate the benefits of the pubhc 
 and private observance of religious duties upon 
 this day than myself, nor can any one have been 
 a more constant and unwilling witness to the 
 sad, deplorable results occasioned by the neglect 
 of it than I have; yet I should wish to know, 
 from such authority as you can give, whether 
 the observation of it be any thing more than a 
 custom, sanctioned merely by common consent 
 and antiquity. Do you consider it enjoined by 
 any thing that can amount to a positive law ?" 
 
 " What you allude to," replied the Doctor, 
 " is a prevalent, but at the same time an er- 
 roneous opinion, that the institution of the 
 Sabbath rests, only, upon the Levitical law ; 
 which law, being abrogated, or rather super- 
 seded by the Christian, many conceive may, or 
 may not be observed. But, Sir, the Sabbath 
 was clearly instituted at the time of the Creation, 
 when it was blessed, hallowed, and set apart ; an 
 event in which we are now as much interested 
 as any of the generations that have gone before 
 us. That it existed long before the establish- 
 ment of the Jewish polity, is evident from the 
 allusions made to it while the Israelites were in 
 the wilderness, and because on the day preced- 
 
THE ASSIZES. 257 
 
 ing their Sabbaths, they were commanded to 
 collect a double quantity of food, that they might 
 have no occasion and no pretence for infringing 
 upon that day of rest, — a day which they had 
 ever dedicated to the service of their God. But, 
 Sir, we Christians have reasons, still stronger 
 than the Jews had, for the faithful dedication of 
 this day to the purposes for which it was de- 
 signed ; because we thus perpetually commemor- 
 ate the greatest blessing under the Gospel — the 
 resurrection from death to life eternal. This 
 was the era of a new Creation, well deserving 
 continual remembrance. And, let me ask, was 
 not the institution of it revived by the Apostles 
 themselves, who, immediately after the ascension 
 of their Lord, congregated for sacred worship 
 the first Christian assemblies, and at more than 
 one of which he, the Saviour himself, was pre- 
 sent? On this day, too, the Holy Spirit de- 
 scended on the Apostles, and filled them with 
 sacred inspiration. It is, therefore, sanctioned 
 by God the Father at the Creation, by God the 
 Son at the Resurrection, and by God the Holy 
 Ghost at the day of Pentecost. Besides all this, 
 have we not authority, which amounts to a posi- 
 tive law, for knowing that * the Sabbath was 
 
258 THE ASSIZES. 
 
 made for man ?' and, if so, how was it meant 
 to apply to him ? Not made for him to follow 
 his mere vain and idle pursuits ; but meant to 
 influence him in bringing him to the acknow- 
 ledgment of his dependence on Almighty power, 
 and thereby to secure that state of future bless- 
 edness which is held out to him ; and do we 
 not uniformly find degeneracy of manners, and 
 a contempt of all that is good and sacred, to be 
 the natural and inevitable consequences of ne- 
 glecting it? But, Sir, as you justly observe, in 
 our provincial towns we have not to contend 
 with all that bad example which is set by those 
 of the most exalted rank in the metropolis. I 
 believe, were my situation removed thither, that 
 nothing would excite my detestation so much as 
 this ; for to what purpose is it that we inveigh 
 against the breach of this day, and against the 
 infringements upon its sanctity, when we see 
 nobles, and others of the principal people of 
 the land, themselves the infractors of it ; — when 
 we see them exhibiting to their inferiors the 
 cold indifference and unconcern with which they 
 make their innovations upon it? One would 
 think they were lost to the finer feelings of their 
 nature, when the records of our courts bear 
 
THE ASSIZES. 259 
 
 testimony that the majority of crimes which are 
 punished, not unfrequently by death, have 
 sprung from this one cause. Were they en- 
 dued with the feelings of true Christian charity, 
 would they not forego the most powerful allure- 
 ments which pleasure could offer, when they 
 know that their baneful and pernicious example 
 of neglecting the duties and observance of this 
 day leads on so many of their fellow-creatures 
 to their ruin ? But, awful as the consideration 
 is, they do not reflec^upon the consequences of 
 their conduct; by which they practically mani- 
 fest a determination neither to quench the 
 splendour of the lamp, the joy of the hai-p, nor 
 the conviviality of the feast, although there result 
 from all this such crimes as hurry on their fel- 
 low-men to an untimely and ignominious death." 
 
 " Still, Doctor," interrupted the ^Serjeant, 
 " vou are to bear in mind that it is a dav of 
 rest, both to man and beast." 
 
 " I grant," he continued, " it is a day of 
 repose and calm relaxation, at the same time 
 that it is meant as peculiarly devoted to the 
 Creator ; or, at all events, that it should be 
 distinguished from all other days. Can we go 
 on in the laborious pursuits of business, or in 
 
260 THE ASSIZES. 
 
 the less satisfactory, but moi*e laborious plea- 
 sures of life, day after day successively, without 
 breaking upon its concerns and revelry, to 
 dedicate the seventh to the God who made us, 
 — to the God who still upholds us in our 
 mortal career, — the God who calls upon us 
 ' to work out our own salvation,' — to the God 
 before whom we must soon appear at the last 
 great Assize, to give an account on which our 
 eternal destiny depends ? Do the vain, the 
 frivolous, the unsubstantial amusements, as they 
 are generally followed by many of the higher 
 classes of society in town, — do they at all 
 answer the description of even moderate relax- 
 ation and rest ? Do they not bring toil, trouble, 
 and vexation upon all who are concerned in 
 them ? Surely what are termed ' quiet as- 
 semblies, conversaziones, small dinner and 
 music parties,' can never, by the distortions of 
 any sophistry, be construed into any other than 
 such flagrant breaches of what, if not actually 
 sacred, is regarded by the wise and prudent 
 as such, as would in any case deserve the 
 severest reprehension. But the terms amusC' 
 merit and pleasure are here altogether misap- 
 plied ; these things have nothing whatever to 
 
THE ASSIZES. 261 
 
 do with the consideration of rational enjoyment; 
 they are devised not so much from the desire 
 of recreation, as the wish to gratify depraved 
 incHnations ; from pride and ambition to appear 
 great, and to be removed from the vulgar ; 
 from a spirit of rivalry, to vie with those above 
 them ; from a spirit of licentiousness, inducing 
 them to fly to such expedients to relieve the 
 tedium which oppresses the idle and unreflect- 
 ing mind. In short, the manner in which this 
 holy day is passed by the votaries of fashion 
 and dissipation, by those whose great duty it 
 is to exhibit in themselves patterns of virtue, is 
 in receiving and returning visits, and in os- 
 tentatious displays of themselves, their equi- 
 pages, and attendants ; all which amounts to 
 nothing less than one entire, systematic, and 
 wilful infraction of one of the most express and 
 explicit commandments which the finger of God 
 has engraven upon stones, or which his Spirit 
 has written upon the heart of man." 
 
 " Dr. Freeman," said the Serjeant, " you 
 have spoken the very sentiments of my own 
 breast, and I go along with you to the full ex- 
 tent of all you have uttered, and to much more, 
 to all that you would express." 
 
262 THE ASSIZES. 
 
 " Mr. Serjeant," said Mr. Shereblock, " the 
 warmth which the Doctor has manifested may 
 probably proceed from those overstrained no- 
 tions of piety which are now so prevalent, and 
 which even some of the best of our divines 
 neither feel inclined to adopt nor sanction. I 
 would not insinuate any thing offensive, Dr. 
 Freeman, but may I be permitted to ask whe- 
 ther you are not almost as decidedly adverse to 
 the amusements and recreations of life upon 
 any other day as upon the Sunday ? Are you 
 not what is now termed Evangelical?" 
 
 " Sir," said the Doctor, smiling, " I do in- 
 deed profess myself to be so, in the true and 
 primary signification of the term, but not in 
 the sense which you seem to understand it ; for 
 Evangelism, in modern acceptation, is only 
 another name for Calvinism. No, Sir ; I am 
 no enemy to any seasonable pleasures, that are 
 in themselves rational or innocent. I am one 
 who must contend that the service of religion 
 is twofold, consisting of devotional duties to 
 God, and of social duties to man, and that 
 they are to be carried on together. I think we 
 are enjoined by the positive directions of Holy 
 Writ, and by the no less positive commands of 
 
THE ASSIZES. 263 
 
 reason and conscience, to separate the Sabbath 
 from all other days, by every possible mark of 
 a sacred distinction ; by a cessation from the 
 common and ordinary employments of body 
 and mind; and by a dedication of ourselves 
 by thought and action to the God who made 
 us : but, I conceive, if we conscientiously dis- 
 charge our common duties with fidelity at other 
 times, we may lawfully, nay, what is more, we 
 may, consistently with the design of true re- 
 ligion, mix with them all such pleasures of 
 public and private society as have no tendency 
 to corrupt the mind, or vitiate the heart." 
 
 " Doctor," said the Serjeant, " I am so ac- 
 customed to hear men talk, and sometimes to 
 so little purpose, on the abstruse perplexities of 
 human laws, that I listen with uncommon in- 
 terest to the free and rational discussion of 
 matters which have reference to laws divine. 
 We are so glad to divert the current of our 
 common thoughts and common occupations, 
 that we travel out of our profession into others, 
 with as much hope and delight as he who 
 changes from one climate to another for the 
 benefit of his health, or the recreation and 
 instruction of his mind. Let me, therefore. 
 
264 THE ASSIZES. 
 
 ti'ouble you with another enquiry. — Is it true 
 that some of the National Clergy have enjoined 
 a sort of non-conformity to the world ?" 
 
 " I regret to say," replied the Doctor, " that 
 this is actually done by too many of the Esta- 
 blishment, both directly and indirectly. Di- 
 rectly, in their exhortations and writings, calling 
 upon their congregations to renounce the things 
 of the world, not merely things evil, but those 
 innocuous, alleging this to be the direct com- 
 mand of the Saviour, which they endeavour to 
 substantiate by passages fi'om Scripture, which, 
 I hesitate not to say, are wretchedly perverted. 
 The fact is, they insist that the injunctions laid 
 upon the Disciples by our Saviour, and upon 
 his disciples only, as the promulgers of a new 
 form of religion, to be still binding, not only 
 upon the Ministry, but upon all the professors 
 o^ the Christian name. They denominate, or 
 rather they anathematize, all who differ from 
 them by the offensive title of ' worldly.' Their 
 brethren of the Church, not Calvinistic, are 
 termed ' worldly ministers,' and their adher- 
 ents, ' children fashioned like the world ;' al- 
 though they must or ought to know, that, in 
 apostolic language, the epithet is exclusively 
 
THE ASSIZES. 265 
 
 applied to those infidels and profane and wicked 
 persons who constitute the bulk of mankind; 
 hence, also, Satan is called ' the Prince of this 
 World.' They preach up, therefore, * non- 
 conformity to the world ;' that is, an aversion 
 from rational amusements or recreative pursuits 
 of life, as opposed to the injunctions of the 
 Apostles ; and they call upon their followers to 
 ' have no fellowship with the unrighteous' — 
 to have ' no communion with darkness' (they 
 themselves being the light) : for, say they, ' ve 
 are the temple of God ; wherefore come out 
 from among them, — be separate, and touch 
 not the unclean thing.' Now, if this be not a 
 palpable and gross perversion of Scripture, I 
 am no judge what can be. I further affirm, 
 that they inculcate this doctrine of non-con- 
 formity upon such principles, and upon that 
 vicious mode of inteqoretation, which indirectly 
 leads them to put asunder what God had joined 
 together ; for their self-abstraction from the 
 innocent amusements of life, and their en- 
 deavours to hang up in domestic circles the 
 sword instead of the olive-branch, are, to me, 
 even something more than indirect infringe- 
 ments upon all the social duties of life which 
 
 VOL. I. N 
 
266 THE ASSIZES. 
 
 are enjoined to us by the Decalogue, tolerated 
 by the Gospel itself, and in some measure sanc- 
 tioned by the first miracle which the Saviour 
 manifested to the world." 
 
 " Do you not think. Doctor," said the Ser- 
 jeant, " that these non-conformists usui'p the 
 province of judges of the conscience, giving out 
 that amusements cannot be innocent and ra- 
 tionally enjoyed, and that such and such plea- 
 sures must necessarily be attended with such 
 and such bad consequences?" 
 
 " Most undoubtedly," replied the Doctor : 
 " they indirectly arrogate to themselves this 
 power ; and by it they insinuate that we, who 
 differ fi'om them, are sanctioning, by our ex- 
 ample and sentiments, practices alike prejudicial 
 to ourselves, and to those committed to our 
 care. There appears to me only one rule of 
 judgment. If the moderate participation of 
 rational recreation be not prohibited by the pre- 
 cepts of the Gospel, and do not lead to conse- 
 quences to endanger the spiritual welfare of the 
 individual, they may be lawfully indulged ; and 
 whether any such bad consequences actually do 
 result, must alone be determined by every one's 
 conscience. If the mind acquits itself of such 
 
THE ASSIZES. 267 
 
 an imputation, who are they that shall venture 
 to accuse it ? It does not follow, because one 
 man cannot enter a theatre without receiving 
 bad impressions, that others should be equally 
 weak or susceptible of \ace. It does not follow 
 because your daughter occasionally goes to a 
 ball, or attends a dance, that I am to pronounce 
 it sinful, though her habits of virtue continue 
 the same, and her mind remains uncontaminated. 
 It does not follow because with the use of cards 
 some gamble and commit consequent enormities, 
 that I, with different inclinations, may not touch 
 them. Or, is it reasonable, is it religion, to 
 abstain from all these things, knowing the na- 
 ture of them, lest our virtue and prudence should 
 fail ? Might we not as well become cloistered 
 monks and hermits ? Rather are we not to ' use 
 this world as not abusing it ?' It is true, we are 
 generally to avoid tem.ptations : but there are 
 some which it is better to vanquish than not 
 to be tempted by them at all. But, supposing 
 amusements to be fraught with baneful and se- 
 ductive evil — which is only true of them in the 
 extreme, or where those partaking of them are 
 viciously inclined — does it follow that we must 
 necessarily refuse the good and choose the evil ? 
 
 N 2 
 
268 THE ASSIZES. 
 
 Assuredly not ! They who cannot partake of 
 them without finding the strong holds of their 
 virtue assailed beyond their means of keeping 
 them, do well in withdrawing from them, and 
 leaving them to those who have no such mis- 
 givings." 
 
 " Precisely so," said the Serjeant, taking up 
 the argument. " What I affirm. Doctor, is 
 that amusement, so long as it continues to be 
 amusement and not business, may be moder- 
 ately indulged, without any moral detriment. 
 Theatres, balls, and card parties, and all the 
 varieties of public pleasures, may be apphed to 
 the worst purposes ; but they may also be ap- 
 plied to profit and instruction. Tliere is no 
 blessing which Heaven has given us that may 
 not be converted into a curse: — of this our 
 daily experience affords abundant proof. The 
 food by which we are supported, and without 
 which we could not exist, by an intemperate use 
 of it, may lay the foundation, not only of disease, 
 but death. Whatever appetite, whether mental 
 or bodily, is indulged beyond the bounds ot" 
 discretion or prudence, it counteracts the design 
 for which it was given. If people attend the 
 theatre for the sake of catching at the folly and 
 
THE ASSIZES. 269 
 
 licentiousness which may undoubtedly be found 
 there, they certainly may meet with it, — yes, 
 and they may meet with it any where else, if 
 they are disposed to seek for it ; but if I go, it 
 is with the same intentions that actuate all others 
 whom I know : I go to witness the close ap- 
 proximation to exalted nature in the masterly 
 scenes of Shakespeare. In the intellectual garden 
 of that great author, there are flowers of the 
 most beautiful form and the most exquisite per- 
 fume, and there are weeds, also, of the most 
 noxious growth ; and while I gaze and please 
 my senses with the one, I pass by the other as 
 unworthy of my notice ; indeed they do not ex- 
 cite my attention. I see, in the character of 
 Richard, the deep, internal, moral workings of 
 a man who has waded through blood to a throne ; 
 and when I look upon his outward splendour, I 
 balance it against his mental anguish, and I 
 loathe him ! I see, in Macbeth, how men of 
 pure minds are gradually worked upon by the 
 seductive allurements of ambition, and by yield- 
 ing their judgments to those who have undue 
 influence over them, to so on from one trans- 
 gression to another, till they commit enormities, 
 at the contemplation of which they stand aghast; 
 
 N 3 
 
270 THE ASSIZES. 
 
 and then peace takes leave of their breasts for 
 ever. In Hamlet, I see the instrument by which 
 the murderer and adultress are brought to en- 
 dure the pangs of a troubled mind, and the 
 bitter compunctions of a self-accusing conscience. 
 I see, in Wolsey, a man whom ambition has 
 raised fi'om the lowest to the most exalted station, 
 and, from that, precipitated to contempt, po- 
 verty, and death. And by these means I have 
 been taught, more forcibly than by many others, 
 the dangers of these wayward passions. By 
 other tragedians, I am led to see the historical 
 or real representation of circumstances which 
 liave subdued the pride or raised the hopes of 
 men of other times ; and I am strongly impressed 
 by the same excitements to aim at virtue, and 
 to despise vice. In comedies such as are chaste 
 (for I see no others, and it is to be lamented that 
 others should be tolerated), I derive a harmless 
 gratification. And, on these grounds, I main- 
 tain that morality has to contend with no power- 
 ful antagonist, when it would deprecate the evil 
 tendency of scenic representations. I have ob- 
 served, as long as I have been capable of observ- 
 ation, the effect of theatrical exhibitions upon 
 those who have witnessed them in the manner I 
 
THE ASSIZES. 271 
 
 have done : and the honest impression on my 
 mind is, that, in several ways, the benefit has 
 outweighed all the evil that has been imputed 
 to them. 
 
 " Airain, if I attend the ball-room, which 
 even now^ I occasionally do, it is that I may in- 
 terchange sentiments and opinions with those I 
 meet ; that I may not exhibit a false and stoical 
 aversion to support any object that has a 
 seasonable cheerfulness to promote ; that I may 
 mingle amonor all ages with those who would 
 shine in elegant and social life : and that I may 
 please myself by observing the graces and man- 
 ners of the rising generation; for all these 
 thmgs excite both sexes to support a name and 
 character, which they can only do by their 
 virtues and accomplishments. And though 
 these may not have a direct influence to implant 
 religious feelings in the heart, yet they have an 
 indirect tendency to do so; for if once the 
 mind can be brought to imbibe onlv the sem- 
 blance of virtue, as that without which it cannot 
 be either tolerated or respected by good society, 
 it may the more easily be influenced to adopt 
 the vitality of religion upon still higher prin- 
 ciples. 
 
 N 4 
 
272 THE ASSIZES. 
 
 " If I visit in private life, I listen to music 
 with pleasure, because I have a taste and relish 
 for it; I find that it frequently becalms the 
 ruffled mind, that it subdues the perplexed 
 passions, and that it excites a strong, but tender 
 sensibility. I delight in pictures, in sculpture, 
 in drawing, and in works of art that exhibit 
 skill and display science. I play whist, be- 
 cause, while it affords innocent amusement, it 
 exercises the thinking faculties ; or I join in a 
 round game at cards, to promote cheerfulness, 
 and prevent harmless mirth from ceasing : and 
 I say with you, if others be unable to enjoy 
 these things from the over-refined sensibilities 
 of conscience, let them pursue the bias of their 
 own inclinations ; but because they have this 
 distaste themselves, or affect to feel a scrupulous 
 dread at yielding to the amusements of life, let 
 them not hold out their fears as the prohibitions 
 of Holy Writ. We have all different com- 
 plexions and characters, and we see through 
 different mediums; and what may appear sinful 
 to one person, may not to another : and what 
 may seem indifference to this, by another may 
 be regarded as the direct contrarJ^" 
 
 The conversation now took a different turn. 
 
THE ASSIZES. 273 
 
 and continued general, until it was suggested 
 to the host by his guests, that they were in- 
 clined to move into the drawing-room. During 
 the whole evening Mr. Hawke had maintained 
 an unusual silence, and, though never inatten- 
 tive to the wants, or to whatever might promote 
 the enjoyment of his friends, yet he was more 
 inclined to listen than to converse. After the 
 party had removed into the drawing-room, the 
 Doctor took an opportunity, before the close 
 of the evening, of telling him how much he 
 was at a loss to account for his thoughtfulness 
 and taciturnity, and expressed 'the hope that 
 nothing of a serious nature had occasioned the 
 chansfe which he remarked. 
 
 " Indeed, my good Sir," replied he, " I 
 have entertained none but the most serious 
 reflections, from the time we parted after our 
 last evening walk to the present hour. Our 
 discussion then, and what you have advanced 
 since, have had the effect to excite a still fur- 
 ther and deeper consideration : which I begin 
 to think, will end in removing my former pre- 
 judices ; in making me look at a brighter 
 prospect than I have hitherto beheld ; and, 
 finally, in bringing me to adopt opinions which 
 
 N 5 
 
274- THE ASSIZES. 
 
 require only impartial investigation to produce 
 an assurance of their reasonableness and truth." 
 The Doctor, taking his hand, and pressing it 
 with warmth, now took a silent and unobserved 
 leave. On the following morning he found this 
 billet upon his table : 
 " My dear Sir, 
 " As I have now a wish to attend the service 
 of the Church, I shall feel obliged by your ap- 
 propriating a Pew to me. 
 
 " Yours truly and faithfully, 
 
 " J. Hawke." 
 
275 
 
 THE ATHANASIAN CREED. 
 
 Sweet is the morning's lovely ray, 
 That fraught with fragrance leads the day, 
 But sweeter far that native grace 
 Which mantles o'er the virgin's face, 
 Deepening her fair unspotted charms 
 Wlien modest Virtue feels alarms. 
 
 Of soul how dead, of passions vile. 
 Of blacken'd heart, and vicious bent, 
 Is his, whose libertine intent* 
 
 Can such sweet loveliness defile ! 
 Disgrace to man, tho' fallen low, 
 How can he peace or comfort know, 
 Who in the bud could blast the rose ? 
 The slave of guilt, a prey to woes. 
 And rack'd by never-dying throes 
 Of conscience keen, his life shall pass ; 
 And deeper all, as sinks his glass ! 
 
 Oh mark that form ! — tho' sunken now. 
 It boasted once of Health's fresh glow : 
 Lovely and fair, and pure the maid, 
 Ere brutal man her faith betray'd. 
 That eye, tho' lustreless and dead, 
 That cheek, whence every rose is fled, 
 That feeble step, and drooping gait, — 
 These, once, pourtray'd a diff'rent fate. 
 
 N 6 
 
276 THE ATHANASIAN CREED. 
 
 How changed is she ! an outcast ! — one 
 Wliose food is tears, whose couch a stone. 
 Whose canopy the wintry sky, 
 And only business now — to die! 
 
 To die ! dread thought ! but not before 
 Repentance floods her chasten'd soul, 
 Nor till Religion's mild control 
 
 Unlocks for lier its saving store. 
 Oh no ! she must first seek the Cross, 
 
 And there her sins, her cares dismiss, 
 And, counting earthly good as dross, 
 
 Her Saviour's head anoint, and kiss, 
 And wash his feet with holy tears. — 
 Hush'd then shall be her aching fears; 
 No more shall burst the struggling sigh. 
 The fount of Sorrow shall be dry ; 
 And sweet Religion's pure caress 
 Shall fold her to its heart, and bless. 
 And tho' the fire forsake her eye, 
 Tho* leave her cheek the crimson dye, 
 Elastic tho' no more her tread. 
 And youth and loveliness be fled ; 
 Yet in her eye and cheeks there lives 
 The charm which resignation gives, 
 And on her features is engraved, 
 '• Tho' sin hath scath'd, kind Heaven hath saved!" 
 
 A copy of these lines was presented by Mr. 
 Deacon to his Rector one morning, on which 
 they had met for the purpose of visiting toge- 
 ther the family of the distressed Seaman, whom 
 
THE ATHANASIAN CREED. 277 
 
 they had the satisfaction to find in a far better 
 situation. By their intercession with his land- 
 lord, his furniture had been restored ; by their 
 assistance and advice, the man's health was 
 much improved, and his wife was perfectly 
 recovered, so that she could now resume her 
 labours ; while the young woman, on whose 
 constitution sorrow had made large ravages, 
 was beginning to feel the happy influence of 
 Rehgion, " to her great and endless comfort." 
 Great as had been her sin, deep and sincere 
 was her penitence. She rested not satisfied 
 with a few confessions of her* fault, nor with 
 the utterance of a few prayers, which custom 
 made weary to her. No ; once led astray from 
 the path of duty, she felt the weakness and 
 insufficiency of her nature ; and with full pur- 
 pose of heart, she turned herself to Him whose 
 ways are mercy, and sought unto Him for 
 grace, for pardon, and for peace. It needs not 
 be said that she sought not in vain ; for return- 
 ing calmness had begun to show itself; and her 
 days and nights, which lately had been passed 
 in that sickness of mind and spirit which hangs 
 like a heavy weight upon the heart of the 
 sinner, wore now a milder appearance. In this 
 
278 THE ATHANASIAN CREED. 
 
 ameliorated state, it was the happiness of the 
 Doctor and his Curate to find them. The old 
 man, yet unable to get out, was reading in his 
 Bible to his poor Magdalene ; who, whilst at- 
 tending witli tender and affectionate duty on her 
 babe, listened to him with eagerness. 
 
 ' The messengers of peace' broke in upon 
 them before they were aware, and gladdened 
 them with their sight. After a short delay 
 in this house of returning health and peace, 
 they proceeded onwards to the visitation of 
 other objects of commiseration and pity ; but as 
 they were passing the door of Mr. Hawke, — 
 " Deacon," said the Doctor, " let us call in 
 here for a few minutes, that I may inform our 
 friend of the arrangement I design to make for 
 his accommodation in the Church ; for I am 
 very anxious to give this converted advocate 
 a special retainer." They were now ushered 
 into the library, where they found Mr. Hawke 
 engaged in earnest conversation with Mr. Sin- 
 gleton, the minister of the Unitarian Chapel ; 
 who, having received from his late disciple in- 
 formation of his apostacy, had come to enquire 
 into, and canvass the reasons of his secession. 
 This interview the Doctor considered most 
 
THE ATHANASIAN CREED. 279 
 
 fortunate ; as in the event of a discussion of 
 the principles of their religious differences 
 taking place, he judged that an opportunity 
 would be afforded for making an estimate 
 how far, and with what degi'ee of sincerity, 
 his fi'iend had been brought to espouse his new 
 belief 
 
 " This is the gentleman of whom I once 
 made mention to you, Doctor," said he : " he 
 has been plying me with arguments of a very 
 different tendency to those which you once 
 offered to my consideration, and which pro- 
 duced so firm a change in my mind, though he 
 has been pointing out to me the shockingiiess 
 (as he terms it) of the Athanasian Creed ; which, 
 he says, is a disgrace, not only to the Church 
 which makes it part of its Liturgy, but to the 
 whole Christian world. Now, as you and 
 Mr. Deacon are come in very opportunely, you 
 will, I hope, not suffer me to hear one side of 
 the question only ; for though one part of a 
 dispute is enough for me in the case of a client, 
 it is by no means sufficient in an affair of so 
 much importance as this. If, therefore, you 
 and Mr. Deacon will plead on the opposite 
 side, Mr. Singleton, I am sure, will be ready to 
 
280 THE ATHANASIAN CREED. 
 
 conduct the accusation against you ; and in that 
 case he will open the business. We have no 
 clerk to call silence, nor to impannel a jury ; 
 will you, therefore, Mr. Singleton, without fur- 
 ther ceremony, take the lead. 
 
 " Sir," replied he, " stranger as I am to 
 these gentlemen, you have imposed upon me a 
 task to which I fear I am unequal ; but as it is 
 my duty to avail myself of all opportunities to 
 correct wrong ideas and principles, however 
 sanctioned by antiquity and power, and to dis- 
 seminate just ones in their places, without 
 more consideration I begin. In the first place, 
 I shall confine my observations to two general 
 heads : one is, that Athanasius was not the 
 author of the Creed, and that, therefore, it is 
 absurd to call it by its present name ; and the 
 other, that it not only contains a doctrine 
 repugnant to reason, and highly incongruous, 
 but also arrogates a power of anathematising, al- 
 together inconsistent with the Christian religion. 
 Besides, supposing Athanasius to be its author, 
 it is no recommendation to it to bear his name ; 
 for he was banished for sedition and evil prac- 
 tices more than once." 
 
 " I will take your last observation first," 
 
THE ATHANASIAN CREED. 281 
 
 said the Doctor ; " and I have no hesitation in 
 asserting that Athanasius, in himself, was a 
 persecuted man, and persecuted solely on ac- 
 count of his firm and inflexible orthodoxy ; 
 which was so offensive to the innovators of his 
 time, that he became an object of their mahg- 
 nant envy and unceasing malevolence. So far 
 from being what you represent him to be, his 
 character was altogether different, and worthy 
 rather of admiration than censure. I coul4 
 prove to you the truth of this, but it is not 
 necessary; because, even granting him to be 
 the object you represent him, that w^ould in no 
 degree impugn either the authority or veracity 
 of the creed." 
 
 " How so, Sir ?" replied Mr. Singleton. " If 
 he be not the author of it, then it is no longer 
 the Athanasian Creed, but the creed of any body, 
 or nobody." 
 
 " We will not dispute about names," said 
 Mr. Deacon, " but confine ourselves to facts. 
 It is the doctrine of the Creed with which we 
 have to do." 
 
 " As for its doctrine," said Mr. Singleton, 
 " that is altogether abhorrent ! The dogma of 
 the Trinity is monstrous, but the dogma of this 
 
282 THE ATHANASIAN CREED. 
 
 Creed is unreasonable, cruel, and presumptu- 
 ous ! To say that unless a man believes every 
 thing contained in it, he is without doubt lost, 
 is to say that unless a man will assent to a string 
 of inconsistencies, he is in a state of inevitable 
 perdition. Now, such an idea is horrible to a 
 Christian, and makes a charitable mind shrink 
 with dread." , 
 
 " It is all very well," said the Doctor, " for 
 people to profess so much liberality and feeling 
 for others. There is something in it catching 
 and plausible, for it is the doctrine of tinsel 
 and show ; whilst the candour and solemnity of 
 undisguised truth and orthodoxy are repulsive 
 and unseemly, because they are unsparing and 
 inimical to fraud and presumption. I cannot 
 conceive how any one can, consistently, talk of 
 Christian feeling and charity, who abjures the 
 only idea of Christ which can command our 
 reverence or excite our love. Without a viola- 
 tion of that charity, I am of opinion, that they 
 bear the Christian name for no other purpose 
 than their own convenience ; and are no 
 more to be called Christians than the Creed 
 under consideration is, according to your view, 
 to be called Athanasian." 
 
THE ATHANASIAN CREED. 285 
 
 " How, Sir?' replied Mr. Singleton, with 
 some warmth. " We are perhaps as good 
 Christians, at least as good men, as those who 
 arrogate to themselves that title." 
 
 " With personal goodness, or individual cor- 
 rectness of life, I consider we have nothing to 
 do at present," said Mr. Deacon. " I must 
 coincide in the sentiment so temperately, yet so 
 firmly advanced by my friend ; and if I mistake 
 not, the infidels of the present day, claim you 
 as their brethren, though they tax you with in- 
 consistency, for retaining the name, when you 
 have abjured the doctrine of Christianity. Nay, 
 they say that the rescinding the laws that were 
 once in force against you, is the door through 
 which they have made bold to enter ; and that 
 it is unjust that they should be persecuted for 
 their doctrines, whilst you are permitted not 
 only to profess your principles, but to proselytize. 
 I mention this to shew you the opinion enter- 
 tained by men who feel no respect for creeds, 
 and whose only merit is, (if merit it may be 
 called), that they have the courage openly to 
 avow their belief" 
 
 " Such observations, coming from a Trini- 
 tarian, excite in me no wonder," replied Mr. 
 
284 THE ATHANASIAN CREED. 
 
 Singleton, " since it is a part of their creed to 
 despise all who differ from them. But, I would 
 ask, why may we not be called Christians as well 
 as you ? We profess the founder of our religion 
 to be Jesus Christ, who was a singularly good 
 man, and one pre-eminently gifted and favoured 
 by Heaven; we believe in the miracles which 
 he wrought; we submit to his doctrines and 
 maxims as the best rules of life; we acknowledge 
 that he was raised from the dead, and that he is 
 now an inhabitant of Heaven." 
 
 " And," continued the Doctor, " allow me 
 to say, that they who are Christians in truth 
 acknowledge the author and maker of their re- 
 ligion to be Jesus Christ, the son of a Virgin, 
 in his human form, but, in his spiritual nature, 
 * exalted far above all principalities and powers :' 
 for this reason, because he is God, who not only 
 could give that sanction, weight, and authority 
 to moral precepts, which lawgivers, who were 
 mere men, could not, but who was ' the Mediator 
 of the Covenant, perfect God and perfect Man.' 
 He it was that paid the atonement of our sins, 
 and became, by his own nature and power, 
 ' the first-fruits of them that slept.' There is 
 something in this to excite our love in a higher 
 
THE ATHANASIAN CREED. 285 
 
 and more impressive degree than the idea which 
 you entertain. I am not surprised that you, 
 who are an Unitarian, should object to this creed 
 in particular ; my astonishment rests upon those 
 who, while they profess to acknowledge the 
 Christian verity, entertain a shyness on this sub- 
 ject. But I will assert, that all who believe in 
 the triune Deity, must either go the ftill length 
 of the Creed, or abjure their profession." 
 
 " Yes ; but, Sir, I believe neither the Trinity 
 nor the Creed," said Mr. Singleton ; " and I 
 am proud to dissent from them, -as they are un- 
 intelligible, and, as I before said, uncharitable : 
 unintelligible, because one contains a mystery 
 beyond all human power to comprehend ; and 
 the other asserts a sweeping condemnation, which 
 must exclude, I think, every one from salvation. 
 Now, on this principle, I am fully justified in 
 using the terms unintelligihU and uncharitable. 
 But, to go more deeply into the subject, how, 
 I would ask, can three persons be one, or one 
 three ? As well may you say that you two 
 gentlemen and myself, who are three distinct 
 persons, are one person ; for if the three persons 
 of your Trinity are each God, then are they 
 three Gods, and you are polytheists." 
 
286 T»E ATHANASIAN CREED. 
 
 " To the charge of polytheism, I give a most 
 positive denial," said the Doctor. " That the 
 subject of the Trinity is mysterious, is, I should 
 hope, no reason why it should not be believed ; 
 and that the condemnatory clauses are not 
 uncharitable, I also must contend. But, Sir, 
 though great is the mystery of the Trinity, we 
 may, nevertheless, find, at least, some analogy 
 to help us to comprehend it. In doing this, 
 however, I must disclaim making use of any 
 gross idea of the Almighty, or measuring him 
 by human capacity; for as he is an infinite spirit, 
 so must our understanding, which is necessarily 
 limited to earthly things, fail thoroughly to take 
 it in. It is only, therefore, in a spiritual sense 
 that we can discuss this point ; and our argu- 
 ments must consequently be stripped of all 
 grossness and humanity. Conceive, if you can, 
 what I take to be the most perfect idea of God, 
 that he is perfect wisdom, goodness, and power. 
 Now, if such perfectness belong to the three 
 persons of the Trinity, they must necessarily be 
 all equally God. But that each of these pos- 
 sesses this in himself, is apparent from this con- 
 sideration, tliat each is self-conscious of each 
 other's actions ; for as that person of the Trinity 
 
THE ATHANASIAN CREED. 287 
 
 whom we call the Father is God, in every sense 
 of our comprehension and belief, so must the 
 other two, if they possess the same attributes, be 
 God : and they are, also, three in one." 
 
 " You laid down an axiom respecting the 
 spirituality of the Deity," replied Mr. Singleton, 
 " and that we should discuss it in a spiritual 
 manner. Now, your view rests only, I conceive, 
 on your own dictum : and, therefore, we are yet 
 as widely at issue as when you commenced your 
 argument." 
 
 " I hope not," observed Mr.-Deacon ; " for 
 I think Dr. Freeman has laid down a position, 
 which, as it is warranted by Scripture, is strong 
 and immoveable. And that it is so, may be 
 learnt, first, from the consideration of the Son 
 or second person, on the principle of self-con- 
 sciousness ; for whatever is self-conscious of the 
 wisdom, power, and perfection of another being, 
 must be one and the same as that being. Hence 
 the Son says, ' The Father is in me, and I in 
 him.' — ' As the Father knoweth me, so know 
 I the Father.' — ' Whatsoever things he doeth, 
 these, also, doth the Son likewise.' Who, then, 
 on considering the strict and only true sense that 
 these and several passages of Holy Writ express, 
 
288 THE ATHANASIAN CREED. 
 
 can deny that the Father and the Son have the 
 same seif-consciousness, fully and perfectly the 
 same, and that each equally comprehends the 
 other : and, consequently, they are one and the 
 same. Now, if this be true, and I defy Satan 
 himself to disprove it, then is the Divinity com- 
 posed of these two, mutually and intimately 
 God ; and if the Holy Ghost possesses the same 
 self-consciousness as the Father and the Son, 
 he must, in like manner, be God, equally and 
 essentially one and the same : — ' For the Spirit 
 searcheth all things, yea, the deep things of 
 God.' — ' The love of God is shed abroad in 
 our hearts by the Holy Ghost, which is given to 
 us.' In like manner, Christ speaking of him, 
 says, ' He shall not speak of himself, but what- 
 soever he shall hear, that shall he speak ; and 
 he will shew you things to come. He shall 
 glorify me ; for he shall receive of mine, and 
 shall show it unto you. All things that the 
 Father hath are mine ; therefore, said I, that he 
 shall take of mine and shall show it unto you.' 
 Here, then, the Holy Spirit is as intimately ac- 
 quainted with the mind or counsel of the Father 
 and Son as they are of each other's : he must, 
 therefore, be the same with them, and as inti- 
 
THE ATHANASIAN CREED. 289 
 
 mate and as much within them, as the spirit of 
 a man is in a man ; and ail this by an essential 
 unity or self-consciousness. * For,' says the 
 Apostle, ' what man knoweth the things of a 
 man, save the spirit of a man which is in him ; 
 even so the thinors of God knoweth no man but 
 the Spirit of God.' — In like manner, God com- 
 prehends the Spirit as the Spirit comprehends 
 God ; ' For,' says the Apostle, ' he knoweth 
 the mind of the Spirit, too.' — Thus I have 
 shown you, how these three are necessarily and 
 essentially God, ' neither confounding the per- 
 sons, nor dividing the substance.' " 
 
 " I confess," said Mr. Hawke, who had 
 hitherto been a silent and very attentive auditor, 
 " that were any thing yet wanting to complete 
 my turning to what I now conceive the true idea 
 of God, as contained in the orthodox notion of 
 the Trinity, I should, from this view of it, have 
 confessed my error ; but as I have already done 
 that, I need only now say that my conviction is 
 complete, — so complete, that no argument can 
 be advanced powerful enough to cause me to 
 swer\'e from this my fixed judgment And I 
 thank Heaven that I have had the opportunity 
 of being prevented from denying my Saviour 
 
 VOL. I. o 
 
290 THE ATHANASIAN CREED. 
 
 and my God, and shutting my heart against the 
 divine influence of the Holy Spirit. I only now 
 regret that I should ever have entertained 
 principles and tenets which I consider at vari- 
 ance with Christianity itself. I owe this open 
 declaration to you, Mr. Singleton ; and be as- 
 sured that my decision is the result, not of a 
 partial judgment, for I leaned to you rather 
 than to the church : not a hasty resolve, for I 
 have thought of it deeply, seriously, and for 
 some time : not of a spirit of wavering and 
 change, for I clung to your doctrines as the 
 drowninnr mariner to the mast : but of a most 
 conscientious belief that the idea which I, in 
 unison with others of your sect, had carved of 
 the Almighty, was altogether derogatory to Him 
 who ' dwells not in temples made with hands,* 
 whose throne is heaven, whose footstool is 
 the earth, and who grasps immensity with a 
 span. This idea was necessarily followed by 
 mv searching more closely and deeply into the 
 subject; and the result has been, that I hesitate 
 not to confess ' a Trinity in Unity, and Unity 
 in Trinity.' And, however fallacious and ab- 
 surd you esteem this holy doctrine, I think it 
 more reconcileable to common sense and reason, 
 
THE ATHANASIAN CREED. 29 L 
 
 because it is founded in Scripture, and conveys 
 altogether a spiritual notion of the Divinity : 
 whereas your notion of it is fashioned after 
 human experience ; which, as it is fallible and 
 frail, so must your conclusion partake of those 
 imperfections. Nay, 1 will go farther ; for I not 
 only confess the doctrine of the Trinity, but as- 
 sent to the \'iew taken of it in the Creed which 
 we have been discussing, which I consider an 
 admirable exposition of a difficult and mysteriousr 
 subject. And whether it bears the name of its 
 author, or was a compendium of the Christian 
 belief in the age when it was promulgated, about 
 fourteen centuries ago, I now look upon it as a 
 powerful barrier against the introduction of false 
 notions, not only of the Godhead, but of the 
 Incarnation ; and ' all that is necessary for a 
 Christian to believe to his soul's health.' Never- 
 theless, Dr. Freeman, I almost wish that the 
 condemnatory clauses had not been so pointed 
 and decisive ; and though I cannot go the whole 
 length with ^Ir. Singleton in this respect, yet I 
 should like to know how you would attempt to 
 support them." 
 
 " Mr. Hawke," said the Doctor, *' I admire 
 your candour, and esteem your change of senti? 
 
 o 2 
 
292 THE ATHANASIAN CREED. 
 
 nient solely as the result of unbiassed thought 
 and impartial investigation. Your remaining 
 doubt I shall have no difficulty in solving ; but 
 it is only fair to ask this Gentleman's permission 
 to advance to this part of the argument ; that is, 
 if he be satisfied that the doctrine of the Trinity 
 is not so absolutely unintelligible, nor so un- 
 worthy of credit, as he supposed." 
 
 " Sir," replied Mr. Singleton, " if I mistake 
 not, your h^-pothesis amounts to this, — that the 
 Father is one true God, the Son one true God, 
 and the Holy Ghost one true God ; and yet you 
 assert there is but one true God ; which is a 
 contradiction impossible to be reconciled. After 
 you have cleared up this strange inconsistency, 
 I shall be glad to proceed to the remaining con • 
 sideration of it." 
 
 " It is a principle with your Sect," replied 
 the Doctor, *' to pervert or turn aside every 
 thing that militates against your doctrines ; and 
 though this is not the place to point out the 
 strange twists which your translators and com- 
 mentators have given to those passages of Holy 
 Writ which you cannot admit, because they 
 are too pointed against you, without either cor- 
 rupting or expunging, yet I cannot withhold 
 
THE ATHANASIAN CREED. 293 
 
 mv expression of the unfairness and disingenu- 
 ousness of it. At the same time, I would have 
 you and all your followers to know, that the 
 Catholic doctrine of the Trinity rests upon a 
 foundation which, though exposed to the as- 
 saults and battering of human ingenuity and 
 perverted intelligence, cannot perish; because 
 it is founded upon a Rock, the Rock of Ages. 
 Hence we care not to defend this or that pas- 
 sage of which there can be the least shadow of 
 a doubt, well knowing that as the early Chris- 
 tians fled from one city to another when the 
 malevolence of their adversaries denied them a 
 loncrer continuance, so we have authorities to 
 which we have recourse, beyond the pulling 
 down, or erasure, or perversion of all that So- 
 cinians can devise or execute." 
 
 " But what has this to do with my observ- 
 ation ?" replied Mr. Singleton, who was glad to 
 put an end to remarks that were too home for 
 his refutation. 
 
 , " Much," answered Mr. Deacon, " at least 
 in my opinion ; for does not your query go upon 
 that principle which Dr. Freeman was depre- 
 -cating ? The hypothesis he laid do^vn and de- 
 fended, you, because you could not refute it, 
 
 o 3 
 
294 THE ATHANASIAN CREED. 
 
 think proper to misunderstand. A very few 
 words will suffice, I think, to answer you. Is 
 not the soul self-conscious to all that the body 
 doies, feels, and attempts ; and, in like manner, 
 the body to the soul ? Yet these two, though 
 they are not one and the same thing, because 
 body cannot be soul, nor soul body, constitute 
 one person or individual, namely, Man, The 
 soul is one, considered by itself, and so is the 
 body : but unite them, as they are united by 
 self-consciousness, and they form, when thus 
 united, one being. So, in like manner, the 
 three persons, or the three hypostases, or what- 
 ever name you call them, of the Divinity, are 
 individually or separately one; yet these three, 
 taken together and united, form but one God. 
 In what manner this union takes place it con- 
 cerns not those who cannot comprehend their 
 own union of body and soul to enquire ; for that 
 which is finite cannot, from its very nature, take 
 in infinity : and if it fail to understand how itself 
 is constituted, surely it is the height of impiety, 
 profanation, and idolatry, to circumscribe the 
 immensity and intangibility of the Divinity 
 within the narrow comprehension of intelli- 
 gences which ' know but in part,' We can 
 
THE ATHANASIAN CREED. 295 
 
 only conceive God by his attributes: we ought 
 to rest satisfied with that knowledge, and not 
 be high-minded, and canvass things ' into which 
 the very angels desire to look' — " 
 
 " But, Sir," interrupted Mr. Singleton, " you 
 make ideas of the form of God as well as we do ; 
 we may, therefore, rebut your assertion back 
 upon yourselves." 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Deacon ; " but you must 
 allow there is some difference between spiritual 
 and human things : and as much as these vary 
 from each other, so much does our idea of the 
 Divinity differ from yours. What we complain 
 of is, that your conception of it is too gross, and 
 adapted to human understanding; and conse- 
 quently either derogatory from the Supreme 
 Being, or bounding it up within limits, and by 
 that means rendering it finite and imperfect." 
 
 " Or," rejoined the Doctor, " rather say that 
 both these detractions from the incomprehen- 
 sibility of God follow from the Socinian doc- 
 trine." 
 
 *' It strikes me, Gentlemen," observed Mr. 
 Hawke, " that there is one passage which puts 
 this question, as it now stands, quite at rest — 
 ' Great is the mystery of godliness ; God was 
 
 o 4 
 
296 THE ATHANASIAN CREED. 
 
 manifest in the flesh, justified in the Spirit, seen 
 of Angels, preached unto the Gentiles, believed 
 on in the world, received up into glory.' " 
 
 " That is, indeed," said Mr. Deacon, " the 
 passage upon which I was grounding my argu- 
 ment, and I thank you for the application which 
 you have made of it." 
 
 " I see," replied Mr. Singleton, " that you 
 three unite in one against me, and at this rate 
 we may go on till doomsday ; because I do not 
 feel disposed to abandon my position, and I do 
 not apprehend these Gentlemen will forsake 
 theirs : we will, therefore, proceed to what con- 
 stitutes the uncharitableness of this Creed ; and 
 this consists in sivino; over to damnation all 
 those who cannot bring their understandings to 
 comprehend the unreasonable and unintelligible 
 doctrine of the Trinity. Now, this is very 
 harsh and cruel, that they who have not a 
 comprehension pliant enough to take in this 
 monstrous dogma, must, on that account, be 
 excluded from the salvation of Heaven. Not 
 only, then, those of the Christian World who 
 dissent from you, but all the millions of crea- 
 tures, on whom the day-spring of the Gospel 
 has not risen, are included in this damnatory 
 
THE ATHANASIAN CREED. 297 
 
 sweep, which it is disgraceful to a liberal mind 
 to entertain." 
 
 " If," replied the Doctor, " a man's private 
 judgment is to be the rule and criterion of 
 Scripture interpretation, your h\^othesis would 
 be just. But who shall question the Almighty ? 
 or, who shall be his counsellor? Who shall 
 dare to scrutinize what he does? or arraign his 
 dispensation ? If our finite comprehensions 
 could grasp infinity, they would cease to be 
 human. The idea conveys an absurdity more 
 palpable than any which you can possibly lay 
 to our charge ; and whilst it strives to exalt the 
 nature of man, it either destroys his humanity, 
 or derogates from the Deity. Unreasonable and 
 -unintelligible as the Trinity may appear to you, 
 infinitely worse and more gross is the notion 
 you advance ; because, as it has been before ob- 
 served, it levels the immensity and infinity of 
 heaven to the grovelling and imperfection of 
 earth. Bearing these observations in mind, we 
 shall come to the discussion and consideration 
 of this important doctrine with more humble 
 feelings, and more suitable ideas. You will, 
 from this view, also, easily perceive how unjust 
 and unfair is your proposition." 
 
 o 5 
 
298 THE ATHANASIAN CREED. 
 
 «* But, Sir, assertion is no argument," replied 
 Mr. Singleton, " and I must beg some more 
 satisfactory proof dian your mere dictum ; for 
 the opinion of one man, nay, of a thousand 
 beings, if unsupported by better authority than 
 an ipse dixit^ deserves no credit." 
 
 " How, Sir," observed Mr. Deacon, " does 
 that observation come from you ? Why, that 
 is the very object of Dr. Freeman's remarks : 
 but as you want some authority superior to 
 human evidence, we shall not shrink from ad- 
 ducing it. It is unnecessary that we, who rest 
 all our doctrines on the Scriptures, fairly and 
 logically interpreted, should be backward in 
 giving in our authority. Now, Sir, the nature 
 of the Trinity and its foundation in the Scrip- 
 tures, need not here be insisted on ; because, had 
 it not been revealed to us, we never could have 
 known it, and because we have already discussed 
 it. In addition to this, however, I beg leave to 
 advance an hypothesis plain and simple, and 
 one that cannot, I think, be objected to. If 
 the institution of Baptism, as ordained by our 
 Saviour himself, and practised by his inspired 
 Apostles and his Church to our days, be binding 
 on us, then I may hope to make out a case not 
 
THE ATHANASIAN CREED. 299 
 
 easily disproved. The form of that Sacrament, 
 by which we are admitted into the privilege of 
 the Christian dispensation, and become re- 
 generated children of grace under the title of 
 Christians, is a broad basis upon which to ground 
 our present discussion. ' Go, baptize all na- 
 tions,' were the words of the Saviour, ' into 
 the name of the Father, the Son, and the 
 Holy Ghost' Now, if our admission into the 
 Christian Covenant depends upon Baptism, — 
 and that it does we must believe if we would be 
 saved, — it depends upon a full confession of, and 
 belief in, the Holy Trinity ; and this is no more 
 and no less than what is asserted in the Athana- 
 sian Creed. For if Salvation be obtained by 
 Baptism, which brings us within the pale of 
 grace, then is the acknowledgment of this 
 doctrine absolutely necessary to eternal life. 
 Whoever therefore believes in the efficacy of 
 this Sacrament, must acknowledge the Trinity, 
 as explained or laid down by the Creed now 
 under discussion. I rest not this on bare 
 supposition, Mr. Singleton ; it is founded upon 
 the words of truth, — upon the assertion of Him 
 ' who spake as never man spake,' and of Him 
 who came to be a light to lighten the world to 
 
 o 6 
 
300 THE ATHANASJAN CREED. 
 
 peace, virtue, and to heaven. Every text 
 of Scripture depends for its full force and 
 efficacy upon this doctrine: and if so, then 
 must they who would rob it of its divine au- 
 thority, to say the least, be in danger of the 
 judgment. For, if they who call their brother 
 ' fool' be in danger of hell-fire, how much 
 rather they who deny the divinity of God, and 
 measure him by their imperfect standard ! ' He 
 that believeth and is baptized shall be saved) 
 but he that believeth not shall be damned.' — - 
 These, Sir, were almost the concluding words 
 of Christ, before he left this earth to return to 
 the glory which he had before the world in the 
 bosom of his Father, and to resume his incon- 
 ceivable Majesty ; ' being made so much better 
 than the Angels,' that they pay him adoration 
 and w^orship, glory and praise. If he, then, at 
 such an hour, thought it necessary to enforce 
 this upon the consideration of his followers, why 
 should any one dare, not merely to deny his 
 true nature, but question the justice of his com» 
 mand ? It is, mdeed, truly awful to talk lightly 
 respecting Him, who even when under the form 
 of man, in all his actions ;Tianifested the power, 
 the oneness, and dignity of the Supreme ; but 
 
THE ATHANASIAN CREED. 301 
 
 how much more awful is it when men are found 
 who profane his holy name, by robbing him of 
 his true nature, and denying his just and un- 
 questionable attributes ! That he is to be judge 
 of the World is established beyond all contro- 
 versy ; where then shall the sinner and blas- 
 phemer appear ? How shall they dare to look 
 up to him for mercy whom they reviled, dis- 
 graced, and defamed ! All this is founded in 
 Scripture, and this is singly and solely the doc- 
 trine of the Creed. In what, then, is it cruel ? 
 in what is it uncharitable ? Rather, I would 
 ask, in what is the Revelation of Heaven, or the 
 book in which that Revelation is recorded, cruel 
 and uncharitable ? ' All Scripture is given by 
 inspiration of God,' and consequently must be 
 infallible, both in faith and practice, and may 
 not be charged by man with any fault, either of 
 omission or commission ; and why, then, should 
 doctrines which not only have their foundation 
 in it, but w^hich are expressed in its very words, 
 be censured, and made the butt of ribaldry and 
 animadversion ? In this view, and I can form 
 no other of it, I think that they who ridicule and 
 reject the faith of the Holy Trinity, are tread- 
 ing on embers which contain the spark of de- 
 
302 THE ATHANASIAN CREED. 
 
 struction hidden beneath, ready to ignite and 
 consume them. This faith, then, must * be 
 kept holy and undefiled :' for as there is no 
 medium between virtue and vice, and between 
 heaven and hell, so must the doctrine of the 
 Trinity be either absolutely true or false. If false, 
 then Scripture is no rule of faith, for the idea 
 of the Trinity could never have been conceived, 
 had it not been revealed from heaven ; and that 
 revelation is found in the word of God : but; 
 if it be true, then ' he only who believes shall 
 be saved, whilst he that believeth not shall be 
 damned.' " 
 
 " The more I hear," said Mr. Hawke, " of 
 this doctrine, the more I am convinced of its 
 truth, and congratulate myself on having escaped 
 from so dangerous an error as my former read- 
 ing and associates had led me to adopt. It is 
 my hope that all who, through presumption or 
 error of judgment, are entangled in the maze of 
 Socinius, will be able to extricate themselves ; 
 and at length, like the apostle St. Thomas, be 
 ready to exclaim, while looking on Jesus, " My 
 Lord and my God !" 
 
 " In order to answer an objection which 
 Mr. Singleton appears disposed to enforce," 
 
THE ATHANASIAN CREED. SOS 
 
 added Dr. Freeman, " I would observe, that 
 the curse denounced against unbelievers can 
 only extend to those who becir the name of 
 Christ, yet refuse to listen to his voice; and 
 only adopt, as articles of belief, those things 
 which fall in with their limited and imperfect 
 comprehensions ; I mean to those who, though 
 havinor a talent committed to their manaore- 
 ment, either neglect to use it, or employ it in 
 a way disgraceful to the donor, and dangerous 
 to themselves. Of course, it is charitable to be- 
 lieve that those on whom the Sun of Righteous- 
 ness has not shed the healinoj of his winors are 
 not included in this condemnation ; for ' the 
 Heathens are a law unto themselves,* and have 
 not that talent to improve which Christians 
 have. As, therefore, little to them is given, of 
 tliem will little be required ; but, on the con- 
 trarj^, much having been given to us, of us 
 much will be required. They have not been 
 baptized to Christ ; they have not heard of the 
 Saviour, and him crucified ; they cannot, there- 
 fore, ' believe what they have not heard,' neither 
 will they be punished for not performing what 
 they have not known. But the case is far dif- 
 ferent with us : we have no such excuse to plead. 
 
v301« THE ATHANASIAN CREED. 
 
 Our infidelity cannot arise from ignorance : we 
 have been baptized to this doctrine, if we have 
 been baptized at all ; and, therefore, if ' we 
 would be saved, we must thus think of the 
 Catholic faith/ " 
 
 " It is clear then," replied Mr. Singleton, 
 " that you must regard us, and such as hold our 
 opinions, as excluded from salvation ; a belief 
 which is not only uncharitable, but is directly 
 opposed to what are termed the orthodox prin- 
 ciples of your Church, which denies the dis- 
 tinction of elect and reprobate among any of 
 the conscientious members of the Christian 
 World." 
 
 " Excuse me," replied the Doctor, " you 
 
 entirely mistake if you conceive us to entertain 
 
 notions of this kind towards any description of 
 
 men who conscientiously make the Gospel of 
 
 Christ their rule of life, however differently 
 
 they may view it from ourselves. It is true 
 
 that, according to our belief, we entertain the 
 
 •positive assurance that they whose faith is like 
 
 our own, and who exercise it in works of love 
 
 to God and man, imploring the constant aid of 
 
 the blessed Spirit, and trusting, alone, to the 
 
 mediation of Christ, will certainly be saved — it 
 
THE ATHANASIAN CREED. 305 
 
 is true we think there is not the same certainty 
 for those who reject the necessity of a divine 
 Redeemer ; but though we have not the assur- 
 a?ice, yet w^e sincerely cherish and entertain the 
 /lope that they will be of the happy number of 
 the saved. Fain would we be more at ease on 
 this matter : fain would we convert this uncer- 
 tain hope into a firm assurance. It is with such in- 
 tentions only that we warn others from adopting 
 your principles, and strive to make those among 
 you see this most important point in the same 
 light that we view it ourselves-: believe me, our 
 motives emanate from charity, not from hatred." 
 Just as the Doctor had finished speaking, the 
 door opened, and the approach of visitors was 
 announced : this, therefore, put an end to the 
 discussion ; w^hich, with the exception of having 
 more strongly confirmed Mr. Hawke's belief in 
 the truth of the Scripture doctrine of the Incar- 
 nation and Divinity of Christ, had apparentl}' 
 no other effect. The contending parties now 
 look their leave, and withdrew. 
 
306 
 
 THE FATALIST. 
 
 f^APTAiN FoRTiscuE had seen many a naval 
 engagement, and had fought upon every occa- 
 sion with such undaunted heroism, as left his 
 judgment infinitely more questionable than his 
 courage. He was not only addicted to an ex- 
 cess of patriotic impetuosity, but sought out the 
 road to danger with the same zeal that odiers 
 commonly used to avoid it. The same enthu- 
 siasm characterised him in every thing. Still 
 he possessed talent, which a proper cultiva- 
 tion might have made brilhant ; — a genius 
 prompt to invent, and enterprise to encounter ; 
 but, like the vessel in which he rode upon the 
 ocean, he stood in frequent need of a rudder to 
 direct his devious course. He had performed 
 such prodigies of valour, and manifested such 
 self-devotion to his profession, that, had he 
 possessed greater stability of discretion, he 
 would have claimed distinction in the service. 
 
THE FATALIST. 307 
 
 His spirits were always variable ; now buoyed 
 up by sanguine expectation, now dejected by 
 disappointment : like the element on which he 
 lived, he was at one time calm and motionless, 
 at another violent and raging. After having 
 served upon almost every station, and fought 
 with almost every nation of the globe, he had 
 retired upon half-pay, with the addition of a 
 pension, the compensation for the loss of an arm 
 carried away in the last action in which he was 
 engaged. With such a mind, and such feelings, 
 it was impossible for him to remain inactive ; 
 but at length wearied with forming projects 
 w^hich terminated in abortion, and tired of the 
 sameness of life, he looked out for one who 
 might comfort and solace him in his retirement, 
 and reheve the tedium of life by the endear- 
 ments of conjugal happiness. As he was a man 
 whose mind was prone to despondency when 
 activity of life ceased, he had, from the time of 
 his removal from senice, occasionally fallen into 
 great mental gloominess, which had been in- 
 creased rather than subdued by false sentiments 
 of rehgion : it was his wish, therefore, to make 
 choice of a wife whose views in these respects 
 might, in some degree, assimilate to his own. 
 
308 THE FATALIST. 
 
 As he was throwTi but little into the society of 
 those of his own profession, he could not exe- 
 cute the desinjn he once fonned, of uniting him- 
 self to the daughter of a brother-officer, who 
 miijht understand, and feel interested in the 
 relation of those oft-repeated anecdotes of the 
 good and great things of his earlier life, which 
 formed the not-unfrequent subject of his conver- 
 sation. Indeed, removed to a distance from all 
 circumstances and persons connected with the 
 service, his mind turned to the contemplation of 
 other subjects, and chiefly to religion. So much 
 had his attention been engrossed by sacred and 
 nautical reflections, that he had drawn up a 
 treatise on the naval tactics of the Old and New 
 Testament, in which he had descanted at large 
 upon the structure and capacity of Noah's ark, 
 and compared it with the vessels built by Deu- 
 calion and the Argonauts ; he had hazarded an 
 opinion of the probable burden of the Ninevitish 
 ship, from which, in order to lighten its fi'eight, 
 Jonah had been hurled into the profundity of 
 the deep ; and then he had run into a digression 
 of some length, to prove that whales have never 
 been found in the latitudes in which the pro- 
 phet was sailing : then taking a comprehensive 
 
THE FATALIST. 309 
 
 view of the improvement of the science in sub- 
 sequent ages, he estabUshed beyond all contro- 
 versy, the tonnage of the craft which sailed to 
 and fro over the lake of Gennesareth, and con- 
 cluded by appending a pointed stricture upon 
 the misconception of Raphael ; who, in one of 
 his cartoons representing the miraculous draught 
 of fishes, had placed several figures of the holy 
 personages in a boat, so small, that any one by 
 his own weight alone must have upset it. In 
 this way his mind had been occupied, when it 
 was suddenly turned from the - course of these 
 lucubrations, by falling into the company of a 
 daughter of an eminent tradesman of the town ; 
 a lady who had once possessed some indisput- 
 able pretensions to beauty, the loss of which was 
 now counterbalanced by what might be consi- 
 dered the prospect of a pretty fortune, an edu- 
 cation rather beyond her station in life, and the 
 inheritance of the severest principles of religion. 
 The season of love is the season of poetical in- 
 spiration ; and many were the attempts which 
 tlie Captain made to assail the strong-holds of 
 the lady's heart, by exalthig her opinion of his 
 talents, and inflaming her with the ardour of 
 his affection. His mode of disclosing the la- 
 
310 THE FATALIST. 
 
 bouring passion of liis breast was not so singular 
 as it was affecting ; it was expressed in the fol- 
 lowing rhapsody, which was delivered at the 
 close of an evening visit, with the vice-like grasp 
 of a hard hand, and the upward cast of an en- 
 amoured, but a blood-shot eye : 
 
 Oh Cupid, God of wild desires ! 
 
 Venus, Mistress of the Loves ! 
 Oh quench, oh quench these inward fires, 
 
 Hither drive your purple doves. 
 
 Waft yourselves upon the ocean 
 Of the blue and cloudless sky, 
 For, alas ! you have no notion 
 . How very near I am to die. 
 
 To die — in one ecstatic burst 
 
 Of a non-descriptive joy ; 
 I burn, I burn, oh slake my thirst ! — 
 
 Raging Loves my senses cloy. 
 
 Tho' in battle I've been wounded, 
 And by waves have oft been tost, 
 
 Until now I ne'er was grounded. 
 Ne'er till now have I been lost — 
 
 Lost — in fiercest adoration 
 
 Of her many various charms, 
 Ye Gods ! accept of my prostration, 
 
 Give, oh give her to my arms ! 
 
THE FATALIST. 311 
 
 The conclusion of these lines was trulv 
 poetical, because it was the height of fiction 
 in the author to represent himself as possessing 
 two arms, when he evidently had but one. 
 This mistake did not, however, escape his 
 observation, and if he could have altered the 
 sentiment without altering the rhymes, he 
 would have done so ; but it was revolting 
 from his mind to represent himself as a dis- 
 membered lover ; besides, as he had once pos- 
 sessed the full complement of limbs, he suffered 
 the stanza to remain. But the result of all this 
 was not what he had anticipated ; for though 
 the lines breathed an unequivocal avowal of his 
 love, yet the lady's sensibility was altogether 
 shocked at the profanation of invoking heathen 
 deities, which, she said, were only other names 
 for demons ; and the offer of prostration to 
 them amounted, in her opinion, to sheer 
 idolatry. Her displeasure, therefore, was wo- 
 fuUy excited by this unhappy effusion, and 
 would probably have proved, for some length 
 of time, fatal to his suit, had he not soon after- 
 wards offered a more congenial, serious, and 
 more approved effort of his Muse. 
 
312 THE FATALIST. 
 
 Here, a vile but contrite sinner 
 Seeks a Saijit endow'd with grace, 
 
 Fain and fairly would he win her 
 In the semblance of thy face. 
 
 Holy maiden ! know I love thee ; 
 
 Religion's voice in thee I hear ; 
 From thy presence do not drive me ; 
 
 Methinks I feel an holy fear. 
 
 Storms and tempests I've not heeded, 
 They were all the sports of Fate ; 
 
 Other lessons 1 have needed 
 To remind me of my state. 
 
 With vice in every shape infected. 
 From thy sight I ought to flee ; 
 
 But I feel myself elected 
 
 To partake of bliss with thee. 
 
 Canst thou wish to stop the torrent, 
 Or the trade-wind in its course ? 
 
 Can'st thou meet the storm abhorrent, 
 Or unshrinking stem its force ? 
 
 Then seek not. Lady, to reject me, 
 Nor my fondness to reprove ; 
 
 To thy sweet embrace elect me, 
 Let me revel in thy love ! 
 
THE FATALIST. 313 
 
 No sooner had she gained upon the affections 
 of the Captain, and procured the key which 
 unlocked tlie arcana of his heart, than she 
 exerted her power to eradicate those notions 
 which she deemed false, and to strengthen those 
 she judged right and holy. His treatise upon 
 sacred nautical tactics she constrained him 
 now, as the condition of her acceptance of him, 
 to burn to ashes, as a profanation which no 
 other sacrifice nor altar could remove ; and 
 here, little " Dan Cupid," was exemplified thy 
 power ! That which had cos.t him so much 
 intense contemplation, exhibiting in one view 
 all his knowledge and learning, which he had 
 cherished as the progeny of his brain, the 
 child of his fancy, the offspring of his inventive 
 genius and erudite imagination, was, in one 
 moment of time, all obliterated, pulverised, and 
 destroyed, to purchase — what ? the heart and 
 hand of a maiden of forty, who, in all the 
 paleness and pride of an austere religionist, 
 promised the partner of her couch the par- 
 ticipation ot her own gloominess, to mix with 
 that compound which made up the gravity and 
 gaiety of his own unsettled disposition. The 
 thing was, however, after much compunction 
 
 VOL. I. p 
 
314 THE FATALIST. 
 
 and some little hesitation, performed ; after 
 which, and some other preliminaries which 
 were said to be calculated to ensure spiritual 
 rather than earthly comfort, the lady, with 
 downcast look and blushing modesty, suffered 
 herself to be conducted to the altar. 
 
 This was almost the last act of worship which 
 the Captain performed in the Church ; for from 
 this day Mrs. Fortescue had passed an wiani- 
 7nous resolution, that they should attend the 
 service of a Chapel, of which her uncle was the 
 minister, and in which the doctrines of Calvin 
 were preached to their full extent. To this her 
 spouse made no objection, inclined as he was 
 by habit and inclination to give way to a per- 
 fect belief in Predestination, and absolute Ne- 
 cessity ; a belief which had actuated him on so 
 many occasions to meet danger, and to brave 
 death in every form. For many years were 
 these notions strengthened by the perpetual 
 sanction of his wife's authority ; and when, after 
 a little time, she presented him with a son, her 
 power was complete. It is easy, therefore, to 
 conceive how poignant must have been his 
 sorrow, when all joy was suspended by the 
 announcement of the death of her who liad 
 
THE FATALIST. 315 
 
 ffiven birth to his child. He bore the calamity 
 with no religion, with no philosophy ; his grief 
 was impassioned, and for a length of time he 
 exhibited a phrenzied despondency ; but as his 
 child acquired strength, and grew beneath his 
 eye, his cheerfulness at one time returned, and at 
 another broke out into joy bordering upon wild- 
 ness. Like a vessel without rudder or helm, 
 which is tossed by every storm, and impelled by 
 every gale, he was the constant sport of varying 
 feelings. To rear his infant was an employment 
 altogether new, and called forth once more his 
 inventive faculties. Determined that the mind 
 should be impressed with whatever might in- 
 spire a love for his profession, every thing with- 
 out was destined to convey some idea which, 
 from early association, might lead it to a bias 
 for the sea. The child's cradle was built in the 
 form of a boat, with an awning above the head. 
 The nurse had been chosen from the widows of 
 the sailors of his former crew. The nursery 
 itself resembled the cabin of a ship in size, 
 number of lockers, and furniture of drawers and 
 sea-chests. A deep closet had been fitted up 
 as a birth for the nurse, only accessible by a 
 small flight of steps. In short, every thing 
 
 p 2 
 
316 THE FATALIST. 
 
 within bore the closest similitude to the interior 
 of a ship. At the age of six the child was 
 amused by floating little cork vessels on tubs of 
 water, and began to acquire the phraseology of 
 seamen ; and as the boy increased in years and 
 knowledge, his mind was diverted by the con- 
 stant relation of stories of enterprize and 
 courage, exemplified in the manifold histories 
 of sea-faring heroes. The Captain had amused 
 himself also with rearing an enormous pole on 
 the grass-plot of his garden, and equipped it 
 with ladders, ropes, and sails, to resemble the 
 mast of a man of war ; and here the child was 
 constantly exercised in all the confused mazes 
 of rigging, and in all the technicalities of the 
 jnautic science, and was taught to climb with a 
 dexterity, which, whilst it surprised, horrified 
 those who were made the spectators of his 
 activity. To what excess all this would have 
 been carried, had it been much longer indulged, 
 it is difficult to conjecture ; for the infection had 
 ^<3B^ extended so^far, that the boy, seeing how his 
 exploits won upon his father's heart, and how 
 enraptured he was with every feat that brought 
 back the remembrance of his dangerous career 
 of life, had himself converted the prop of a 
 
THE' FATALIST. 317 
 
 Stool to buckle on his knee, as a wooden leg, 
 and had tied a bandage over one eye, in imita- 
 tion of what he conceived to be the honourable 
 badges of the profession. Thus equipped, he 
 was frequently seen hobbling over the quarter- 
 deck, or climbing to the mast-head, from which 
 latter perilous situation, for want of better sight 
 and better footing, he was, upon an unlucky 
 occasion, suddenly precipitated to the ground, 
 and narrowly escaped with life ; having not 
 merely splintered his wooden leg, but dislo- 
 cated the knee to which it had been appended. 
 The Captain soon reconciled himself to this 
 accident ; for on surveying the spot on which 
 the sufferer had fallen, and measuring its dis- 
 tance from the mast, he discovered that had the 
 boy been actually on board of ship, he would 
 exactly have fallen into the water, and, con- 
 sequently, would have sustained no other 
 probable harm than a mere ducking ; and then 
 would only have escaped from that peril to have 
 been exposed to another ; " for," said he, " it 
 is clear the accident was fated." 
 
 As soon as the brave boy recovered, he was 
 sent, by the advice of his father's friends, to a 
 school in the neighbourhood of the metropolis, 
 
 p 3 
 
318 THE FATALIST. 
 
 where he was educated with several other 
 youths for the service of the navy. At the age 
 of fourteen, impressed with the superior happi- 
 ness of seamen, and enamoured of the pro- 
 fession, he was made midshipman, and put 
 under the command of a former comrade of his 
 father. At twenty he had become a young man 
 of great promise, and combined the best quah- 
 ties of both his parents; he was possessed of 
 genius and taste, with enthusiasm enough to 
 make him warm and animated, and religion to 
 give him a spirit of unaffected devotion, com- 
 bined with goodness of heart. No wonder that 
 his father looked up to him with sensations of 
 pride and happiness. But it unfortunately 
 happened (such is the uncertainty of life) that 
 the parent's high conceptions were suddenly 
 blasted, by the intelligence of his son's death in 
 one of those brilliant engagements with the 
 enemy which have raised the character of the 
 naval prowess of this country to such a pre- 
 eminent height of glory. This was so terrible 
 a shock to the unhappy man, that it had 
 brought upon him a grief which preyed upon 
 his heart and spirits. 
 
 A few years after he had suffered this last 
 
THE FATALIST. 319 
 
 " Stroke of fate," as he termed it, he was on a 
 visit to Mr. Trustwell, the merchant, in whose 
 company Dr. Freeman accidentally met him, 
 as they were surveying the public edifices of 
 the town. 
 
 " Doctor," said Mr. Trustwell, " we have 
 just been at the Rectory, and, being disap- 
 pointed in not finding you at home, I left a 
 note to request the pleasure of your joining our 
 family circle at tea this evening, which I hope 
 you will be able to accept. My friend here, 
 Captain Fortescue, whom I beg to introduce to 
 you, is much out of spirits fi'om a severe 
 domestic affliction, heightened by what I think 
 a wrong notion of the justice and mercy of 
 God. As I know your disposition to heal the 
 broken-hearted, I am sure you will make an 
 effort to oblige me, in giving him your assist- 
 ance and counsel, so that I shall rely upon the 
 pleasure of seeing you." 
 
 Early in the evening the Doctor proceeded 
 to the merchant's house, where he found the 
 whole family seated around the fire, together 
 with Captain Fortescue and Miss Lorraine. 
 The conversation was enlivened by this addition 
 of the Rector, who upon all occasions endea- 
 
 P 4 
 
320 THE FATALIST. 
 
 voured to heighten the harmony of society, 
 either by his cheerful participation of mirth, or 
 by the pleasing manner in which he conveyed 
 his instructive counsel. Some time after the 
 tea-things were removed, it was curious to ob- 
 serve how the party was interested by the whole 
 demeanour and deportment of the Captain, who 
 at one time formed the life of the circle, and 
 at another seemed an abstracted being; now 
 relatinrr " his movinfj accidents bv flood and 
 field," and now touching the chord from which 
 his sorrows vibrated. The good Doctor, in 
 particular, sympathized with him, and endea- 
 voured, with that delicate attention which a 
 Christian mind only can show, to draw him 
 from himself, and by indulging, to ease his 
 labouring thoughts. The nearer, however, he 
 drew him to the source of his affliction, the 
 more he found his mind alienated from that 
 settled composure which true religion bestows 
 upon the humble and sincere sufferer. 
 
 " It is of no use," said the Captain, " my 
 regretting and afflicting myself with thinking 
 upon my brave son. He was destined to suffer, 
 and I was ordained to misery here ; but I, also, 
 have the comfort of knowing that I am fore- 
 
THE FATALIST. 321 
 
 doomed to happiness hereafter. It matters not, 
 therefore, whether I had kept him on land or 
 sent him to sea ; what was to happen to him 
 was to happen in spite of all I could do." 
 
 " Allow me, Sir," said the benevolent Doc- 
 tor, " to ask you if you think it was fated by 
 the Almighty that you and I should meet here 
 at my friend Mr. Trustwell's, and that our 
 conversation should be on this subject? Was 
 it ordained that I should meet you in the street 
 this morning, or that I should be absent when 
 you called at the Rectory ? I cannot bring my 
 mind to believe that I am Compelled, by in- 
 visible necessity, to have met you here, because 
 I feel within myself a liberty of thought and 
 action ; and I know that if I wilfully expose 
 myself to danger, whether I am fated to it or 
 not, I shall incur great hazard. I am sure, 
 also, that while I am in a sound mind, it rests 
 with myself whether I throw myself from the 
 battlements of the bridge into the river, and, 
 consequently, whether I shall be drowned from 
 such a circumstance or not. Now, what reason 
 can you have for supposing that your son was 
 necessitated to die in the eniracrement which has 
 
 p 5 
 
322 THE FATALIST. 
 
 put a period to his short, but brilliant career? 
 I grant you that certain causes will produce 
 certain effects ; and that if a bullet strikes a 
 person in a mortal part, death must follow ; but 
 I cannot allow that it is fated whom the bullet 
 shall strike. You cannot deny, in the heat of 
 engagement, when instruments of war are busy 
 in all hands, some must perish ; but why not 
 this as well as that person ? why not the veteran 
 as well as the recruit ? I answer, because he 
 only whom the sword or bullet strikes comes in 
 immediate contact with the instruments of death ; 
 and, consequently, had he not been there, he 
 would have escaped the mortal wound. This 
 is not by unavoidable necessity ; it is only the 
 eflPect of a general cause, which would be the 
 same in one as in another ; in the noblest as in 
 the basest, and in the bravest as in the most 
 cowardly; in the hero of Trafalgar, as in the 
 meanest of his seamen. Refrain, therefore, my 
 good Sir, to arraign Fate or Necessity for your 
 sorrow; for are you not at the same time ar- 
 raigning the wisdom of God ? His providence 
 is over all, and the minutest and most insignifi- 
 cant being is as much under his eye as the 
 
THE FATALIST. 323 
 
 largest and most interesting object. As the poet 
 has well said, on the authority of Scripture, — 
 
 * Who sees with equal eye, as God of all, 
 A hero perish, or a sparrow fall.' 
 
 I grant that, without his permission, neither 
 your son could have died the death he did, nor 
 we have met here this evening ; this is not the 
 result of a special or constrained permission, 
 but of a broad and general dispensation. I 
 acknowledge that we are under his guidance ; 
 but, at the same time, he has left us the liberty 
 of acting, reserving to himself the effects of 
 general causes. Or, as the same poet has 
 beautifully said, — 
 
 ' And binding nature fast ii^ fate, 
 Left free the human will.' " 
 
 During these observations the party, and par- 
 ticularly the Captain, remained in a deep silence; 
 he, indeed, appeared completely absorbed in 
 thought and painful remembrance. At length, 
 when the Doctor had ended, he said, — 
 
 " You talk of causes and effects. Dr. Free- 
 man ; I feel both. My present grief is, I know, 
 the effect of my son's death ; his death, the cause 
 of my sorrow. But I shall one day cease to 
 
 p 6 
 
324 THE FATALIST. 
 
 lament ; I shall one day forget my affliction, 
 when I am called away to join the Elect in the 
 presence of God." 
 
 " If by ' Elect,' " replied the Doctor, " you 
 mean those, ' who by a patient continuance in 
 well doing,' have obtained ' glory and inmior- 
 tality,' I shall rejoice to sympathize in your 
 feeling : but if I may judge from your notions 
 on worldly things, and human events, that they 
 are under the tyranny of fate and necessity, I 
 much fear that you are alluding to that un- 
 christian doctrine of a particular or individual 
 election of some to happiness, and of others to 
 condemnation." 
 
 " Your conjecture is certainly true," said the 
 Captain, " for I most assuredly have faith in 
 that election : and this belief is confirmed by 
 the authority of Scripture." 
 
 " Not of Scripture rightly understood," re- 
 joined the Doctor, " as I could satisfactorily 
 prove, if time and circumstances admitted. 
 You rely, I think, upon certain passages *ot 
 Holy Writ, which seem to countenance this 
 doctrine ; and especially upon some of the 
 writings of St. Paul, without considering the 
 particular situation of those to whom he was 
 
THE FATALIST. 325 
 
 addressing himself. His observations had their 
 exclusive and peculiar application, without any 
 reference whatever to individuals. Were it not 
 so, his writings would tend to counteract the 
 spirit of the Gospel, of which he was so able 
 and so zealous a promulger. They would tend 
 to set at nought the teaching and preaching of 
 Him * who died for us ;' and, consequently, 
 they would render abortive all the Saviour's 
 merits, and all his owm labours. For why should 
 the Saviour have suffered to be ' the propiti- 
 ation of our sins,' if every man, by an absolute 
 decree of God, be ordained to happiness, or 
 fore-doomed to misery ? Why should the 
 Apostles have laboured, toiled, and hazarded 
 their lives for the dissemination of the Christian 
 religion, if of those to whom they preached the 
 word of God, some were, of necessity, without 
 any merit or demerit of their own, predestined 
 to everlasting life, and others to everlasting- 
 punishment? Tliis idea does, in truth, com- 
 pletely render futile all the sufferings, doctrine, 
 and mediation of the blessed Jesus ; and, there- 
 fore, it is but a mockery to exhort men to live 
 well, and to cleave unto God. But such was 
 not the opinion of the Apostle to whom ' the 
 
326 THE FATALIST. 
 
 Elect* look up as their advocate. Had he, 
 highly gifted, inspired, and favoured as he was, 
 believed in absolute election, he would not have 
 expressed his apprehension, ' lest, after he had 
 preached to others, he himself should be a cast- 
 away ;' nor would he have exhorted us ' to work 
 out our own salvation with fear and trembling.' 
 Nor would ' the Captain of our salvation, who 
 was made perfect through sufferings,' have gone 
 about ' seeking to save the lost,' and exhorting 
 all to turn unto him and live. He would not 
 have reproved the world of sin, if the sinful 
 could not avoid being so by a predestination to 
 wickedness. He would not have invited man- 
 khid to take his yoke upon them, if they had 
 not the power of doing so ; nor would he have 
 preached repentance unto everlasting life, if 
 they who listened to his voice were already pre- 
 ordained to attain it. In short, he could not 
 have died for the sins of all, unless all have the 
 means or power granted them of partaking in 
 the benefit of his precious death ; and how can 
 they experience that favour, who are destined 
 uncontrollably to wickedness, without any 
 chance or possibility of being good ?" 
 
 " All this is very well," replied the Captain 
 
THE FATALIST. 327 
 
 " but how comes it, then, that many are called 
 ' Elect,' and that the term is usual in Scrijiture ; 
 nay, it is said, that ' many are called, but few 
 are chosen, or elect ?' " 
 
 " Dr. Freeman gave you, I think, a very true 
 description of the Elect," said Alexander Trust- 
 well, who had listened with great attention, and 
 had before felt strongly inclined to join in the 
 discussion, " when he told you they were those 
 who, through the merits of their Saviour, and 
 the grace of God co-operating with their own 
 imperfect yet sincere endeavours to serve him, 
 were fulfilling, as far as they could, the law of 
 Christ, and thus ' making their call and elec- 
 tion sure.' Now by the word call, in this place, 
 can only be meant that appeal or invocation 
 which the preaching of the Gospel makes to all 
 who are within the reach of its voice ; and by 
 chosen, or elect, we may understand those 
 whom the Doctor just pointed out — those who, 
 through faith and holiness, ' press forward to 
 the prize of the mark of their high calling in 
 Christ Jesus.' " 
 
 " But," rejoined the Captain, " is not this 
 doctrine directly contrary to that of the Church, 
 which asserts a predestination unto eternal life ? 
 
328 THE FATALIST. 
 
 Are you not, in advancing those principles, 
 swerving: from those of the EstabHshment ?" 
 
 " Allow me to answer that question," said 
 Dr. Fretman. " These sentiments are the very 
 spirit of our Church, and so far from being repug- 
 nant to her doctrine, they are the only clear and 
 true exposition that can be given. In saying this, 
 it is neither the intention of my friend Alexander, 
 nor myself, to deny all and every kind of pre- 
 destination : but then we must assert, that it 
 consists only in the foreknowledge of God, 
 and is confined to principles, not to individuals ; 
 to societies, and not to persons. Thus it would 
 be derogatory to limit the knowledge of the Al- 
 mighty to things past and present. The future 
 is equally open and clear to him ; for in his sight 
 a thousand years are but as yesterday ; and one 
 essential quality of his nature is, that he com- 
 pi'ehends in himself, what is expressed in his 
 name, Jehovah, the past, present, and to come. 
 But will it, or can it, be said, that this fore- 
 knowledge of God constrains, in the minutest 
 degree, the actions of man ? or, the predestin- 
 ation of the rewards of virtue and punishment 
 of vice compels mankind to become either good 
 or wicked ? Because I know that if you drink 
 
THE FATALIST. 329 
 
 a large quantity of wine at one sitting, you will 
 become intoxicated, does my foreknowledge of 
 this compel you to turn Bacchanalian ? Now, 
 if I have this foreknowledge, which does not 
 act upon your free will, — I who am an imperfect 
 being, — how much more refined and tenuated 
 must it be in the higher order of intelligences ! 
 and, extending the idea to the perfection of the 
 Almighty, it must partake of that perfection, 
 which, so far from destroying the freedom of 
 our actions, ought rather, as it heightens the 
 idea of God, to incline us .to perform that which 
 we know to be good and acceptable to him. 
 But consider the Almighty to have fixed 
 iirevei'sible rewards for virtuous dealings, and 
 iniavoidahle punishments for vicious practices, 
 and call that Predestination or Election, and you 
 solve a very complex and intricate difficulty. 
 Hence they who practise virtue listen to the call 
 of God, and are elected to everlasting life, and 
 made sons of God ; whilst they who abandon 
 themselves to wickedness, and are deaf to the 
 call of salvation, become reprobates and children 
 of perdition. And as goodness is predestined 
 to obtain salvation through the merits of Christ 
 and the grace of God, and wickedness everlast- 
 
330 THE FATALIST. 
 
 ing punishment ; so they who follow the one 
 may be said, from their practising it, to be pre- 
 destined to life ; and they who cleave to the 
 other, may, in like manner, be said to be pre- 
 destined to death." 
 
 " Doctor," said Mr. Trustwell, " you have 
 succeeded beyond what I could have conceived, 
 in proposing a plain and manifest solution of a 
 most difficult subject ; a solution, in my view of 
 things, the most consonant with the general 
 scope of the Gospel, and the mercy of God ; 
 two things, of which we cannot entertain suffi- 
 cient value, inasmuch as they contribute wholly 
 and solely to our salvation ; and I do trust, my 
 good friend," addressing himself to the Captain, 
 " that you will think upon what the Doctor has 
 suggested, and calmly and dispassionately con- 
 sider all that he has advanced. If you do so with 
 sincerity and without prejudice, I think you will 
 soon be convinced, that you have hitherto enter- 
 tained wrong sentiments, and that you will 
 naturally be induced to adopt not only others 
 which are true, but those which are best calcu- 
 lated to assuage your grief, and give you rational 
 and well-grounded hopes of happiness here and 
 hereafter." 
 
THE FATALIST. 331 
 
 " Captain," said the Doctor, with a serious 
 vehemence, " let such a consideration of ti'ue 
 rehgion engage your mind, and let the rational 
 ideas which have now been proposed have their 
 due effect upon your heart and understanding; 
 and the result, I am convinced, will be, to lead 
 you to permanent comfort : they must do this if 
 you give them their full scope ; for instead of a 
 partial and unjust God into which your predes- 
 tination converts him, you will behold him a 
 God of mercy, of long-suffering, of great kind- 
 ness ; one that invites rather than threatens ; 
 that comforts rather than distresses ; that exalts 
 rather than abases." 
 
 Here the conversation was interrupted by a 
 somewhat ludicrous circumstance ; for the Cap- 
 tain, who had marched undaunted up to the 
 cannon's mouth, and never shrunk from the 
 face of danger, much less from the ignition of 
 tallow and cotton, had by some chance brought 
 too near the rays of one of the candles to his head, 
 which was ' silvered o'er' — but not with age. 
 On this followed a blowing up — not of villanous 
 saltpetre, nor of Congreve rockets, — not of 
 American torpedoes, nor magazines charged with 
 death and ruin — but of hair-powder ! The 
 
332 THE FATALIST. 
 
 flame flickered and crackled, and yet burnt on ; 
 not quite so lanibently, however, as the rays 
 which hcked the temples of the young I'lilus. 
 No bodily nor capital damage was sustained 
 before the conflagration was extinguished ; yet 
 it was not accomplished before . the whole of 
 the capillary covering of the head was removed 
 from its place, and the Captain's bald pate hor- 
 rified the company. It was now for the first 
 time discovered that he wore a wig ! About 
 twenty years before, on his return from the 
 West Indies, he had been attacked by a fever, 
 which rendered it necessary for him to have 
 his head shaved ; and as at that time he had a 
 fine crop of hair, he had it converted into a 
 wig, which was so well adjusted to his skuU, that 
 no one could discover the deception. 
 
 The scream of the ladies, when they saw the 
 flame storming the strong-hold of the Captain, 
 wajs converted into an unsmothered titter, alnK)st 
 amounting to a hearty laugh, when their eyes 
 were able to penetrate half an inch nearer his 
 pia mater. It was rather a ludicrous spec- 
 tacle to see the son of Neptune, who had never 
 before struck his colours, however beset with 
 odds, now, with all imaginable speed, lowering 
 
THE FATALIST. 333 
 
 his main-top mast, and leaving his liigh deck 
 quite dismantled. The Doctor and Mr. Trust- 
 well maintained a tolerable share of gravity ; 
 but Alexander, in his buoyancy of hilarity, 
 could not disfjuise his mirth. Castinof a siomi- 
 ficant glance at the young ladies, and one no 
 less expressive at the Doctor, he pretended to 
 commiserate the Captain's catastrophe, and was 
 very busy in assisting him, or rather he was 
 contriving that the bald head should be so seen, 
 that Gall or Spurzheim might have had time 
 to form their sage decision on his cranium : 
 for, bustling round him, this namesake of the 
 Macedonian hero overwhelmed him with con- 
 tinued broadsides of commiseration, enquiries, 
 and gratulations. 
 
 " Alas !" said the Man of Fate, " hard is my 
 lot. I never have possessed any thing dear or 
 valuable to me, which I have been careful to 
 preserv^e, that has not been taken from me. 
 To say nothing of those afflicting events which 
 still distress and harass my mind, I have twice 
 suffered by the power of fire. First, that noble 
 production of my brain, — that masterly com- 
 position, which is a desideratum in the world 
 of intelligence, was committed to the flames, 
 
334 THE FATALIST. 
 
 and thus all my lio})e of literary renown 
 perished. And now, my wig, which has so 
 long been faithful to its block, even when my 
 arm was shot away, is sacrificed on the same 
 shrine. What shall I do?" 
 
 " Do ?" said Alexander ; " get another." 
 
 " But where ?" he ejaculated ; " and what 
 must I do till another be made for me ?" 
 
 " Ladies," said Alexander, " this is a deli- 
 cate question ; but you see the sad plight in 
 which our worthy friend is, have none of you 
 a — I dare not say a wig — have none of you 
 a substitute for hair, which you can lend him ? 
 Perhaps, Captain, my mother's turban, which 
 is much at your service, will do ?" — and here 
 he was making a movement, as if to lay hold 
 on it. 
 
 " Alexander !" said his sister, "you are pro- 
 vokingly sarcastic." She endeavoured in saying 
 this to assume a grave look, but in spite of the 
 effort, a sportiveness peered through her de- 
 mureness, like a gleam of sunshine irradiating 
 a dark cloud. " There is an old wig, belong- 
 ing to our friend the barrister, hung up in 
 papa's closet," said she, " which will perhaps 
 supply the Captain's present necessities." 
 
THE FATALIST. 335 
 
 Away sprang Alexander, and soon returned 
 with the much-wanted article, of which, how- 
 ever " quantum dhpar^^ the captain was glad 
 to avail himself. His grotesque figure, decked 
 in the cap of knowledge, which belonged to a 
 distant relation of Mr. Trustwell, an eminent 
 barrister, who had casually left it at the last 
 assizes, failed not to keep alive the inspiration 
 of Euphrosyne. It suited his head almost as 
 well as the barber's basin fitted the sapless skull 
 of the kniorht of La Mancha. 
 
 " I think," said Alexander, in reply to the 
 fatalist, who was attributing his casualty to the 
 Parcae, — "I think your misfortune this even- 
 ing will be a cure for your ideas on Necessity, 
 as you must be convinced there was no neces- 
 sity for you to burn the outspinning of your 
 head. And, I would ask, was it, think you, or- 
 dained by the Fates, that you should have a 
 fever on your return fi'om Barbadoes, — that 
 your head should in consequence be shaved, 
 and that Mr. Spannose or Mr. Any-body-else 
 should convert your hair into a wig, which said 
 memorable wig was doomed to be burnt by the 
 flame of a candle, predestined to be made by 
 Mr. Wicket, and placed in the socket of that 
 
336 THE FATALIST. 
 
 candlestick, which candlestick was to be moved 
 by yourself into the unlucky place, which was 
 found to be too hot a neighbourhood for your 
 head ? Besides, was it one of the dispensations 
 of Fate or Necessity, that we should be ignorant 
 of that important knowledge, your wearing a 
 wig, till our eyes, by this fatal necessity, were 
 compelled to be unwilling witnesses of this 
 woeful sight ? But if you think all this, in all 
 its minutiae, was fated, I only can say I know 
 that I was under no necessity to go and fetch 
 this existing wig from the third peg of my 
 father's closet, and act your valet upon this par- 
 ticular occasion, except that I saw the sad ne- 
 cessity of doing a christian duty, ' clothing the 
 naked.' " 
 
 " Captain !" said the Doctor, extending his 
 hand to him, " my young friend has conveyed, 
 in a lively and sprightly manner, a serious 
 lesson, by the principles of which you may 
 account for any of the events which afflict you. 
 Guided by these, you will see that every effect 
 proceeds from some cause, over which, in our- 
 selves, in common matters like these, we have 
 a directing power ; but that is a poor excuse to 
 give for any thing which happens, — that it was 
 
THE FATALIST. 337 
 
 necessitated to be ; when at the same time we 
 know that it was in our own power to prevent 
 it. By divesting yourself of prejudice, and 
 judging freely and rationally, you will see on 
 what mean offices you employ the wisdom 
 of Almighty Providence; and carrying your 
 thoughts still higher, you will conclude, that 
 though nothing is beneath his care, he has left 
 us the liberty of will and action." 
 
 VOL. J. ^ 
 
338 
 
 DOMICILIARY VISITS. 
 
 " What a surprising advantage," said Dr. 
 Freeman to his Curate, "does the Christian 
 rehgion possess over any system of ethics or 
 moral poUty, which we know of, or can bring 
 in comparison with it. Excepting the Jewish, 
 indeed, which was the shadow of good things 
 to come, there is nothing as an estabhshed 
 form among all the wisdom of the ancients, 
 which is at all comparable with it." 
 
 " The advantage," replied Mr. Deacon, " in 
 my opinion, does not consist so much in pre- 
 cept or doctrine ; for the moral commands of 
 the Hebrews, and the wise sayings and opinions 
 of the heathen philosophers, contain almost 
 every duty, which religion, in a practical view, 
 requires to be performed." 
 
 " How comes it, then," continued the Doc- 
 tor, " that those wise sayings and opinions were 
 not universally received ? for, excepting the 
 Mosaic law amongst the Hebrews, there was no 
 
DOMICILIARY VISITS. 339 
 
 fixed code of morality in any nation, accessible 
 or practised by the whole community. The 
 conclusions of philosophers were too recondite 
 for the understanding, if not for the adoption 
 of the people in general ; and however excellent 
 these are in themselves, they never obtained 
 that universal acceptation, which the principles 
 of Christianity possess." 
 
 " This arises," replied Mr. Deacon, " I sup- 
 pose, from the want of power to give sanction 
 or obligation to them, in the persons who 
 advanced them. And although the Grecian 
 sages, each in his respective school, might in- 
 culcate, and require his doctrines to be ob- 
 served among his followers and hearers, they 
 had no means of power or persuasion to enforce 
 them as a general standard. Hence, what a 
 contrariety and clashing of sentiments and opi- 
 nions we find among them ! In later times, 
 however, there has been found one exception 
 to this in the person of Mahomet ; but how ? 
 I would ask, and by what means ? The force 
 of arms and the energy of conquest, combined 
 with the peculiarity of the times in which he 
 appeared, exacted obedience to his dogmas, 
 
 S 2 
 
340 DOMICILIARY VISITS. 
 
 with an influence which operates even to this 
 day." 
 
 "Yes," interrupted the Doctor; "but con- 
 trast this with the Christian dispensation, and 
 how does the advantage rest with us ! As far 
 as heavenly things excel earthly, so far does the 
 religion of Christ excel that of the eastern im- 
 postor ! Ours is a religion mild, inoffensive, 
 benevolent, charitable, and calculated for every 
 rank, situation, and people ; and its propagation 
 was not by the power of worldly wisdom, nor 
 the clash of arms ; neither by elaborate ratioci- 
 nation nor temporal power, but by apparently 
 humble and insignificant means. What, then, 
 is it which gives it such a sanction ? Its author, 
 God, in the union of his twofold character, was 
 both able to impress upon it its sanction, and 
 found it upon a basis, against which ' not even 
 the gates of hell shall prevail ;' for though ' hea- 
 ven and earth shall pass away,' this shall never 
 fail — this shall never be lost! Admirable, in- 
 finitely admirable is that system of religion 
 which acknowledges for its founder a Divine 
 guide in our own nature, who, as he was ' a 
 man of sorrows and acquainted with grief,' 
 knows how to compassionate our afflictions and 
 
DOMICILIARY VISITS. 34*1 
 
 pity our infirmities; and who, as he is the 
 ' King of Glory and the Prince of Peace,' is 
 able and willing to assist our necessities, supply 
 our wants, and comfort us with his help and 
 succour. Uniting the two natures of divine and 
 human, as one he gave the obligation and sanc- 
 tion to his laws ; and as the other, he best knew 
 what was most suitable to those for whom these 
 laws were dhacted. Hence it is, that every 
 situation of life finds a proportionate supply of 
 heavenly favour and protection. Hence it is, 
 that they who joy, may joy in truth ; and they 
 who suffer affliction may find relief, and a very 
 ' present help in trouble.' How encouraging 
 is this reflection to Christians, particularly to 
 those who are beset with difficulties, to look 
 up to their Lawgiver, and fix their hope upon 
 him, ' who was made perfect through suf- 
 ferings ! ' " 
 
 " Aye," said Mr. Deacon, taking up the sub- 
 ject, " how many feel this sweet assurance, and 
 what a refined view. — what a steadfast confi- 
 dence the Roval Psalmist entertained in this 
 ' Rock of Aijes,' in this ' Desire of Nations !' 
 His example is a powerful one for all to emu- 
 late. You can scarcely read one of his sublime 
 
 o 3 
 
342 DOMICILIARY VISITS. 
 
 productions without esteeming -the man who 
 composed them, and reverencing the God to 
 whom those compositions are addressed. It was 
 but last evening I was dwelHng with dehght on 
 this particular subject, and employing myself in 
 paraphrasing some of the Psalms ; and here," 
 said he, taking a paper out of his pocket, — 
 " here is the rougli copy of the three first verses 
 of the twenty-seventh, which I have turned into 
 verse. 
 
 " God is ray light, my soul to cheer, 
 Whom then shall I have cause to fear ? 
 God sends salvation from above, 
 What terrors then my heart can move ? 
 My life, supported by his arm, 
 No fears molest, no foes alarm. 
 
 " When sin and guilt their powers combined, 
 And vengeance to my soul design'd, 
 Leagued with my foes, they furious stood, 
 Eager for prey, intent on blood, 
 Yet God their madness did controul. 
 And brought salvation to my soul. 
 
 " Though gathering hosts against me rage, 
 God shall the angry storm assuage. 
 And though war's terrors roll around, 
 God still my rock and shield is found ; 
 
DOMICILIARY VISITS. Sl-S 
 
 For when supported by his arm, 
 No fears can move, no foes alarm." 
 
 Here a note was brouijht in from Mr. Stanley, 
 requesting that the Doctor or his Curate would, 
 on the morrow, come and baptize his child : the 
 excuse for this was not alleged ; the request only 
 was made. The answer returned was merely 
 that the Doctor would call on Mr. Stanley at 
 the appointed time. 
 
 " Deacon," said the Doctor, " there is a 
 growing shyness or indifference to baptism, 
 which calls for the exertion of the ministry to 
 correct, as it is without doubt prevailing among 
 the fickle and unstable. I am much at a loss 
 to account for this inconsistency, why this first 
 principle of Christianity, this institution which 
 is as necessary to salvation as breath to the life 
 of man, should become a stumbling-block, or 
 matter of indifference, to any who hope for re- 
 demption by the merits of Jesus Christ. I have 
 thought much about it ; and the more I reflect 
 upon it, of the greater importance does it ap- 
 pear to me. We must devise some plan for 
 correcting this prevailing error, and let us take 
 every opportunity of practically inveighing 
 
 O 4 
 
344- DOMICILIARY VISITS. 
 
 against it ; indeed, let it be understood in future 
 that in no case, excepting in that of actual dan- 
 ger, shall baptism be privately administered. 
 If the parents will undertake to say, they con- 
 sider their children's lives in danger, let the re- 
 quest, in such instances, be complied with ; but 
 in no other case whatever." 
 
 On the following morning Dr. Freeman was 
 conducted, by a female servant, to Mr. Stanley's 
 counting-room, and by him taken to the room 
 where his wife was sitting; and as he led him 
 into it — " Doctor," said he, " we have taken 
 the liberty of sending for you to baptize our 
 child ; not that the child is ill, but Mrs. Stanley 
 was anxious to have it named to spare us the 
 trouble of going to the church ; and as it is 
 much the same whether it be done here or there, 
 we thought it best to avoid the inconvenience of 
 getting people to stand as sponsors." 
 
 " Sir," said the Doctor, " I suspected there 
 might be some motive of this kind which induced 
 you to send for me. I admire your candour ; 
 but, at the same time, I must beg to be equally 
 free in my observations. So then, it seems, I 
 am sent for merely to suit your convenience, and 
 not from any conviction of the importance of 
 
DOMICILIARY VISITS. 345 
 
 baptism. Now this is what I deprecate. That 
 a minister of this or any parish should at all 
 times be ready, ' in season and out of season,' to 
 attend to the spiritual wants of his flock, I hold 
 to be a most indispensable duty ; but that his 
 readiness to perform this duty should expose 
 him to be sent for as a matter of convenience to 
 any one, is by no means to be tolerated. If 
 such be your motives, you will excuse me, Sir, 
 when I say that either your notions on the effi- 
 cacy of baptism are perverse, or you have no 
 notions at all respecting it. In either case, I 
 must endeavour to set you right." 
 
 " Sir," replied Mr. Stanley, " I was baptized 
 in the Church, and so were my forefathers. 
 Why we were so, when children, I never could 
 clearly or satisfactorily understand, except that 
 we might have our registers duly entered, as to 
 our age, which mi^rht at some time or another 
 be of service to us. I cannot see the use of 
 baptizing infants, because they cannot under- 
 stand either the nature or service of it, nor can 
 they answer for themselves." 
 
 " Even as I suspected," replied the Doctor; 
 " perversion has been at work ; and indifference, 
 or something worse, is the effect produced. So 
 
 Q 5 
 
346 DOMICILIARY VISITS. 
 
 then it appears that the only use of Christian 
 baptism, in your opinion, is the convenience of 
 a reffister ! Good God ! what a sentiment to 
 be uttered by one who bears the Christian 
 name ! Was it for such a low and worldly 
 object as this that the Saviour came into the 
 world to preach repentance unto life by bap- 
 tism and remission of sins? Surely, Sir, you 
 have suffered your best feelings to be laid asleep, 
 or put aside, by the introduction of fallacy and 
 error. You have been made an instrument of 
 some one who, by his gloss of speech, has 
 undermined your faith, and warped your judg- 
 ment. You have imbibed the sentiments and 
 opinions of a sect, which is ' compassing sea 
 and land to make proselytes.' But, Sir, let me 
 exhort you to think seriously before you for- 
 sake the first principles of your Christian pro- 
 fession — " 
 
 They were now interrupted by the appear- 
 ance of Mr. Waterford, who was known to the 
 Doctor only as the minister of a new chapel, 
 lately built within sight of the venerable Church. 
 His presence soon solved the mystery of Mr. 
 Stanley's opinions, and confirmed the Doctor's 
 suspicions. As is customary with men of his 
 
DOMICILIARY VISITS. ^4-7 
 
 Stamp, there was a certain something about him 
 which savoured of shyness mixed up. with pro- 
 fessional assurance. The embarrassment of his 
 manner formed a striking contrast with the dog- 
 matical freedom of his speech. The topic under 
 discussion when he entered was soon adverted 
 to, and became the subject of their conversation. 
 
 " 1 should be glad to know," said the Doctor, 
 " what reasons you have to differ from our 
 Church, in respect of baptism ; and, as we are 
 on the subject, speak to me candidly, and I will 
 reply to you in the same spirit." 
 
 " We object not to baptism as a Christian 
 ordinance or badge," was the reply; "but to 
 infant baptism ; and for this reason : infants 
 cannot comprehend the vows which are required 
 of them in the observance of this rite ; they 
 cannot understand any thing about it; and 
 therefore is it not quite absurd, and a mockery, 
 to perform it upon them ?" 
 
 •' No, Sir; it is neither absurd nor a mockery; 
 and I hope you will be convinced of this, when 
 I have explained to you, what 1 charitably think 
 you do not yet understand, — the nature of bap- 
 tism. The Jewish system of religion was founded 
 by God himself, and was adapted, both for pre- 
 
 ^ 6 
 
34^8 DOMICILIARY VISITS. 
 
 vention and practice, to tlie state, disposition, 
 and nature of the Hebrews. It was only * a 
 shadow of good things to come.' All its ordi- 
 nances conveyed some type of that perfect law 
 which was to be given for the adoption of all 
 mankind. Without, however, noticing other 
 types and figures, I will confine my observations 
 to that which was a shadow of Christian bap- 
 tism, the rite of circumcision. Now this rite 
 was imposed upon male infants at the age of 
 eight days : and this by the express command 
 of the Almighty himself, as a token of ad- 
 mission into the covenant of mercy and favour 
 entered into between God and the Jews. It 
 was not only the mark by which they were 
 distinguished from other nations which knew 
 not God, but an earnest of their participation 
 or share in all the benefits of the Mosaic law 
 and Jewish constitution. In like manner, then, 
 Christian Baptism was ordained by the same 
 Almighty Power, as a more perfect rite by 
 which we are admitted into tliat covenant of 
 grace, mercy, and redemption, which the Saviour 
 of mankind sealed with his blood. And as it 
 was the completion of that type which Jewish 
 circumcision exhibited, so does it coincide with 
 
DOMICILIARY VISITS. 349 
 
 it in all respects, as far as substance can cor- 
 respond with shadow, or things spiritual agree 
 with things human. Now there is no need, nor 
 can any reason be given, why in things that re- 
 quired no change any alteration should be made. 
 It was not necessary, therefore, that the time 
 ordained for the observance of each rite should 
 materially differ. And if we consult the analogy 
 which may be drawn between other Jewish 
 types which have received their accomplishment 
 in Christian ordinances, we shall find ample 
 reason to warrant this conclusion. I will merely 
 instance the close similarity existing between 
 the Jewish Passover and the Christian Sacra- 
 ment of the Lord's Supper, particularly as to 
 time and cause. The institution of each corre- 
 sponds very closely. One, the night before the 
 deliverance of the Jews from Egyptian bondage ; 
 the other, before the salvation of man was ac- 
 complished from the dominion of sin and death. 
 And the reason whv these ordinances are to be 
 observed, is, as well for a tliankful remembrance, 
 as a means of continuing those benefits. By the 
 same analogy, Baptism and Circumcision bear a 
 close affinity to one another, in respect of time 
 and cause. It must also be remembered that 
 
350 DOMICILIARY VISITS. 
 
 God decreed or ordained them both ; the first 
 tor the Jews solely and exclusively, the other for 
 all mankind." 
 
 " But, Sir," said Mr. Waterford, " your 
 argument requires some stronger proof than 
 what you now advance ; your defence of infant 
 ba})tism rests upon an unsubstantial foundation 
 if it has no better corner-stone for its basis than 
 types and shadows. 1 am of opinion, that they 
 are rather to be defended by their substances, 
 than their substances by them." 
 
 " I beg your pardon," replied the Doctor : 
 " in making the rite of circumcision one ground 
 of my defence, I only use a method of argu- 
 ment adopted by the Apostles themselves, who 
 thought it worthy of then* reasoning. I see no 
 reason why we should think ourselves wiser than 
 they who were guided by the Spirit of inspira- 
 tion, and better qualified to adorn the Christian 
 doctrine with truth and wisdom than we are : 
 this position, therefore, I contend, is strong and 
 va^id, and the analogy powerful and convincing." 
 
 " Yet, Sir, you never read in Scripture, which 
 is our authority, that children were brought to be 
 baptized, as m your Church; on the contrary, all 
 that we read of were upgrown men and women." 
 
DOMICILIARY VISITS. 351 
 
 " You never read," replied the Rector, " that 
 children were not baptized, or that they ever were 
 excluded from this rite : and this is certainly 
 entitled to as much authority as your observa- 
 tion. But I will go further, and say, that if we 
 have ]iot positive, we have indirect, evidence for 
 infant baptism ; and we have better reasons to 
 advance for it, than you have against it. The 
 first instance, then, w Inch I shall adduce, is that 
 which our blessed Lord himself gave us, illus- 
 trative as well of his * affection for, as his care 
 over, children.' In this, you see the Lamb of 
 God, in th*e discharge of his mediatorial .duty, 
 taking up m his arms young children, laying 
 his hands upon them, and blessing them. Now 
 your objection to the inability of babes to be ad- 
 mitted by baptism into the Christian covenant, 
 would apply as much to this lovely action of the 
 Saviour as to our form of baptism. Here then 
 at least is one instance which gives sanction to 
 the act of blessing babes, and performing upon 
 them that which they cannot comprehend. But 
 there is another reason why baptism should be 
 performed on infants, rather than on adults : 
 which is this : we are all, by reason of the sin 
 of our first parents, called ' original sin,' sub- 
 ject to sin and death, for the ' wages of sin is 
 
352 DOMICILIARY VISITS. 
 
 death ;' but by the merits and sufferings of our 
 ijreat Hiirh Priest, we are admitted into u state 
 of reconciliation with God, ' whose gift is ever- 
 lasting life,' and put into a way of obtaining it, 
 since Christ is become ' the Author of Salvation 
 to every one that believeth.' As therefore, even 
 before our birth, we are subject to the condemn- 
 ation of God, and as through the mediation of 
 the Saviour that condemnation is obviated by 
 our admission into his covenant and the fellow- 
 ship of grace ; so ought it to be our aim, to 
 avail ourselves of that means of life, as soon as 
 we are born into the world. Again, as that 
 grace or favour is given to us solely for the 
 merits of Christ, and without any desert on our 
 part, it is given to the infant who understands it 
 not, as truly and as perfectly as to the adult who 
 fully comprehends it : for in both cases, it is 
 only a means, a necessary means, of salvation, 
 and not the absolute ensu ranee of it. Surely, 
 then, * the danger is great' in those who neglect 
 the performance of a rite which confers upon us 
 such inestimable blessings." 
 
 " Do you mean to assert, then," enquired 
 the Baptist, " that a person dying without bap- 
 tism is excluded from the mercies of God ?" 
 
 " I will not take upon myself the office of the 
 
DOMICILIARY VISITS. 353 
 
 Almighty, to judge any one," replied the Doctor. 
 " There are sins of omission as well as com- 
 mission ; and though I dare not assert that a 
 child dying without baptism is condemned, yet 
 I will affirm, that they who have neglected to 
 brinff it to the Christian font are hazardinjr a 
 danger, from which I should shrink with appre- 
 hension. On them, not on the infant, rests the 
 danger of condemnation." 
 
 " Be this as it may, how do you account for 
 tlie fact which I advanced before," asked uNIr. 
 Waterford, " that all those who were baptized 
 by the Apostles were adults ?" 
 
 " By this simple reason," replied the Doctor. 
 " How could any person be baptized to Chris- 
 tianity before he became a convert to it ? Xow 
 it is not only evident, but incontrovertible, that 
 baptism was the first step resorted to after con- 
 version to the faith of the Saviour ; and there is 
 no instance of its ever being delayed. It was 
 by the Apostles performed always in the ve?y 
 beginning of the Christian course : they looked 
 upon it as necessary to regeneration, and there- 
 fore did not procrastinate its performance." 
 
 " But they who were baptized were able to 
 answer for themselves," continued Mr. Water- 
 
354< DOMICILIARY VISITS. 
 
 ford ; " that is, they were aduks ; they could 
 comprehend the true force of k, and take a 
 lively part and interest in it." 
 
 " They were so," rejoined the Doctor ; " but 
 they were also ' babes in Christ,' as St. James 
 observes ; and in this sense we are to consider 
 them ; but in our days the case is widely differ- 
 ent. The Gospel tidings of salvation were then 
 only beginning to be published : its converts 
 and disciples could only, therefore, be those 
 who could judge for themselves. None others 
 could receive baptism ; which, I must repeat, 
 was always the Jirst step after they abjured their 
 former errors. But in a Christian land, in 
 which all who are born are born to the instruc- 
 tion of Christianity, and in which the first breath 
 of life must be the first breath of their Christian 
 course, it is necessary that this admission into 
 the dispensation of love and mercy should be at 
 the very beginning of life, that is, in infancy. 
 Another instance has just struck me. When 
 Paul and Silas baptized the keeper of the prison 
 at Derbe, they not only baptized him, but all 
 that belonged to him. In like manner, Lydia 
 and all her house were baptized. Now, if whole 
 families were admitted into that rite, at the very 
 
DOMICILIARY VISITS. 355 
 
 beginning of their conversion, as an earnest of 
 their regeneration and sincerity, — is it not 
 likely, is it not rational to suppose, that there 
 would be among them persons of all a^es, and 
 that some of these persons were children ? In- 
 deed, as there is no injunction against the ad- 
 mission of infants, is it not a strong argument 
 in favour of it? otherwise, would not some pro- 
 hibition have been given ? Again, as this proves 
 that the proselytes to Christianity were baptized 
 in order to be admitted into its privileges and 
 blessings, without any regard to age or sex, and 
 this without delay ; it is a fair inference to con- 
 clude that those who are born in a Christian 
 country, must, in conformity with this primitive 
 and apostolic practice, be baptized in infancy. 
 How else could the words of the Saviour, that 
 all nations should be baptized in his name, have 
 their full effect and completion ? for, as by far 
 the greater number of mortals die in infancy, 
 the admission into the Christian covenant by 
 means of baptism, without which ' there is no 
 remission of sins,' would be confined to one part 
 of mankind, and that the smaller part of the 
 Christian world, which in itself implies a contra- 
 diction. As to the sprinkling of infants instead 
 
356 DOMICILIARY VISITS. 
 
 of immersion, we will not dispute much about 
 tliat. If any one desire immersion, our Church 
 will not refuse it ; and our Fonts were originally 
 made large enough for the purpose. The differ- 
 ence of climate between this country and Judea 
 is a sufficient reason for neglecting immersion, 
 and using only the sprinkling of water. Besides, 
 we learn from the Scriptures, that sprinkling 
 was the ancient form of ablution, or cleansing, 
 or expiating. And certainly, a few drops of 
 water, with God's blessing, may be as effica- 
 ous as whole oceans. The efficacy rests with 
 God ; the means are only to be used by man. 
 You are likewise aware, Mr. Waterford, of the 
 constitutional danger of immersion, as there is 
 one of your followers now in a dying state, 
 in consequence of a cold caught from being 
 dipped. 
 
 " There is one thing more I would advance 
 on this subject. In order to obviate the incon- 
 veniency of the inability of children, our Church, 
 in imitation of the primitive custom, requires, 
 that certain persons, called Sponsms, should 
 answer in the name of the child for the perform- 
 ance of those vows required in baptism, until 
 they come to years of discretion to answer for 
 
DOMICILIARY VISITS. 357 
 
 themselves ; and as they promise to take care 
 that those children should be brought up to lead 
 ' a godly life,' and be instructed in those goodly 
 forms of faith which are necessary for a Christian 
 ' to know and believe for his soul's health,' 
 the performance necessarily becomes on them a 
 two-fold duty. And as sponsors are only re- 
 quired to do this in case of any neglect or any 
 casualty of parents, and as this is a service re- 
 quired of them by the Church in the name of 
 God, they are called Godfathers and Godmothers ; 
 from which, it is evident that parents can by no 
 means be proper persons to undertake that 
 office, since they are already bound by the ties 
 of affection to perform this duty, and sponsors 
 are pnly called upon to act in cases of their in- 
 ability or neglect. Did time permit I could 
 enlarge on these points ; but I hope I have said 
 enough, Mr. Stanley, to change your sentiments 
 on this important subject." 
 
 " Dr. Freeman," said Mr. Stanley, " I re- 
 gret we should have given you any trouble 
 upon this occasion ; but since it appears that 
 you are not justified in complying with our re- 
 quest, we cannot press it further :" — and here 
 the matter ended. 
 
358 DOMICILIARY VISITS. 
 
 Whilst the Doctor was teaching and exhort- 
 ing in the house of Air. Stanley, his worthy co- 
 adjutor had been witnessing an interesting scene 
 in another part of the town. He had called 
 u})on a widow lady who resided not far from his 
 lodgings, and with whom he had, on former oc- 
 casions, enjoyed many a pleasant hour. She was 
 at present suffering under a severe indisposition, 
 brought on by a complication of causes ; and she 
 was therefore glad to see Mr. Deacon, who bore 
 a strong resemblance to her dear and only son, 
 who at this time was absent not only from his 
 home, but from his country. Her husband's 
 brother, who had been almost half a century 
 resident in Jamaica, and who had in that time 
 amassed property to a considerable amount, 
 had lately died, and left the whole of it to 
 his brother's children as some atonement for the 
 injustice and neglect with which he had formerly 
 treated his worthy but less fortunate brother, 
 who had been called hence a few years before, 
 leavinjr a widow and two children, with little 
 more than the memory of his virtues to support 
 them. The son, indeed, a few years older 
 than his sister, had been some little time called 
 to the Bar, and his talents in the law recom- 
 
DOMICILIARY VISITS. 359 
 
 mended him to public patronage no less than 
 his virtues as a man conciliated to him esteem 
 and reputation. He bad been several years be- 
 trothed to Marian Hargrave, an amiable young 
 lady, orphan of a respectable but poor clergj-- 
 man, who, since her mother's death, had been 
 residinir with a distant relation in the neicjhbour- 
 hood of the town. In the absence of Mr. Eu- 
 stace she had come to spend a short time with 
 his mother and sister, whom she hoped one day 
 to call by the same endearing titles. Her visit 
 had beexi productive of so much pleasure and 
 satisfaction, that it was protracted from time to 
 time, and was at length intended to be termi- 
 nated a few days before his return. His letters, 
 which had been not unfrequent, tended greatly 
 to tranquillize their spirits, for they were written 
 in a cheerful style, which breathed only of future 
 happiness and pleasing anticipations, attempered 
 and regulated by a rational sense and feeling of 
 religion. Indeed nothing could more truly 
 evince the heavenly spirit and ameliorating tend- 
 ency of Religion over the heart of man, under 
 all circumstances of life, than the demeanor of 
 this family. When adversity threatened, they 
 were steadfast and faithful ; when sickness 
 
360 DOMICILIARY VISITS. 
 
 afflicted, they were calm and resigned ; when 
 distress assailed, they were tranquil, as those 
 ' who have a hope ;' and, above all, when un- 
 looked-for wealth was showered upon them, 
 they were humble, grateful, and unfeigned 
 Christians. And now, when the Hght, the com- 
 fort, the support of their family circle, was ab- 
 sent in a distant and unhealthy clime, their hope 
 was in God; and their whole deportment showed, 
 by its even tenor, in whom they trusted. Re- 
 ligion was the halcyon of their life, cheerfulness 
 the inmate of their dwelling, and peace the 
 sunshine of their breast. They were superior 
 to the frailties and passions of the world, but 
 they despised not its proper enjoyments and 
 advantages : they mixed not with the frivolous, 
 but they courted the esteem and society of the 
 rational and well-informed. No wonder that 
 one of Mr. Deacon's mind derived satisfaction 
 from the society of such a family ; for though it 
 is sweet to paint the loveliness of virtue, it is 
 more delightful to witness its effect. 
 
 He had called this morning to make enquiries 
 after the health of the family, and to read to 
 Mrs. Eustace, who always derived comfort and 
 support from his society. On being introduced 
 
DOMICILIARY VISITS. 361 
 
 into the apartment where the young ladies were 
 sitting, Miss Hargrave immediately called upon 
 him for the fulfilment of a promise he had long 
 made, to write something in her Album. " And 
 here, Mr. Deacon," said she, " here the book 
 lies open inviting your contribution, whicli 
 ' however small, will be gratefully received.' " 
 As he was fully prepared for the demand, he 
 immediatelv sat down, and wrote the following 
 lines, in imitation of Walter Scott : — 
 
 " For me, oh World ! no chaplet weave : 
 Thy frowns I fear not, nor believe 
 Thy wanton smiles, and summer glow, 
 Deceptive as retiring snow : 
 For me thy grandeur's all too high, 
 And danger lurks its steps too nigh : 
 Then not for me thy chaplet weave ; 
 For all thy pleasures but deceive. 
 
 " Let Beauty, with its eye of fire, 
 With madd'ning love the gay inspire ; 
 Let War, in panoply array'd, 
 Unsheath the chieftain's ready blade ; 
 Let Glory rear its plumed crest, 
 And dazzle with its glitt'ring vest : 
 Yet not for me thy chaplet weave ; 
 Thy smiles are false — thy hopes deceive. 
 
 VOL. I. R 
 
362 DOMICILIARY VISITS. 
 
 " Let the full cup of Pleasure teem 
 
 With draughts from fair Calypso's stream, 
 Which shrouds the soul's immortal flame 
 Beneath the brute's degraded frame ; 
 Tho' fair the flow'rs that here entice, 
 All, all too costly is the price : 
 Such chaplet, therefore, do not weave ; 
 The flow'rs decay — the draughts deceive. 
 
 " Nor weave for me Ambition's wreath. 
 It is the bloody meed of death ; 
 Asp-like, foul murder nestles there. 
 Entwined with folds of grim despair ! 
 And, oh ! weave not the wreath that binds 
 The brows of sordid, selfish minds : 
 Like these entwine no wreaths for me, 
 They show too much, oh World, of thee ! 
 
 " Nor the bright wreath of riches twine, 
 Dug from Golconda's purest mine ; 
 Nor dazzling stones, that proudly gem 
 An empire's envied diadem. 
 No ; twine for me the Christian's crown, 
 Be virtue still my best renown ; 
 And let the wreath that decks my brow 
 From pure Religion's branches grow." 
 
 Mr. Deacon had scarcely finished reading 
 these lines, before the newspaper was brought 
 in by the postman. He took it up, with the 
 intent of reading to the ladies such parts as 
 might be most interesting. Under the head of 
 Ship News, was an account of the loss of a 
 
DOMICILIARY VISITS. 363 
 
 vessel homeward bound from Jamaica, which 
 had been wrecked on the coast of Cornwall, 
 and in which every soul had perished. Among 
 these, it was said, there was a gentleman of the 
 name of E. W. E., who was returning from 
 Jamaica, whither he had been to take pos- 
 session of a large property left him by an 
 uncle. There was something in this account 
 so striking, and bearing so close a resemblance 
 to Mr. Eustace, that little doubt could be 
 entertained but that the delight of his family, 
 the amiable and accomplished lover of Miss 
 Hargrave, was no more. The former part of 
 the paragraph was read aloud ; but before Mr. 
 Deacon reached the conclusion of it, his voice 
 faltered, and the paper fell from his hands. 
 In dreadful alarm and fearful presentiment, the 
 two young ladies gazed upon him. Terror had 
 sealed their lips. 
 
 Mr. Deacon soon recovered himself, and the 
 tear which stole from his eye indicated return- 
 ing sensibility, and a weighty cause for grief. 
 " My dear friends," he said, " this life is, in- 
 deed, a chequered scene ; pain is lurking under 
 the shadow of pleasure, and affliction nestles 
 under the wings of enjoyment. Hope not for 
 
 R 2 
 
364* DOMICILIARY VISITS. 
 
 perfect happiness in this world ; rather prepare 
 yourselves to hear of misfortune. Pray to God 
 that you may learn how to bear afflictions." 
 
 " Oh, tell us, tell us," was the urgent re- 
 quest; " tell us what has happened. For 
 Heaven's sake, keep us not in suspense. What 
 evil have we to encounter ?" 
 
 " My dear, dear friends," said the Curate, 
 " mine is a painful task, mine is an unwelcome 
 office. I fear to relate, — and yet you must be 
 made acquainted with it. My tongue falters : — 
 but be calm, be composed, be tranquil, and I 
 will relate the dreadful tidings. Your bro- 
 ther " 
 
 " What of my brother ?" interrupted Miss 
 Eustace : " Oh ! kill me not by saying that he 
 has suffered any thing." 
 
 " Your brother," he resumed, " has, I fear, 
 been lost in his passage homeward !" 
 
 " Oh, God !" burst from the lips of the 
 friends, as speechless with astonishment, and 
 statue-hke with grief, they sank backward on 
 the sofa. 
 
 " Gracious Heaven!" ejaculated Mr. Deacon, 
 " impart thy strength to aid me in this trying 
 hour, that I may be the humble instrument of 
 
DOMICILIARY VISITS. 365 
 
 pouring the balm of consolation into those 
 Jiearts thus swelled with grief, and agonized 
 with affliction." — He durst not alarm the 
 family, lest the news should reach the mother, 
 and prove too much for her feeble frame. 
 Such remedies as were within his reach he ap- 
 plied, and returning animation gave him en- 
 couragement to proceed. 
 
 " Oh, God ! righteous ait thou in all thy 
 ways : thou triest us to prove us," said the 
 afflicted sister, and the big flood of tears 
 relieved^ her struggling heart. " My brother, 
 my dear brother ! art thou gone ? Oh, my 
 poor mother ! how will she bear this ? Marian, 
 my dear friend, my dearest Marian, speak 
 to me !" 
 
 A deep groan was the only reply, accompa- 
 nied with a look of bitterest anguish. At lenfrth 
 throwing her arms round the neck of her friend, 
 she burst into tears. 
 
 With the tenderest sympathy Mr. Deacon 
 stood by, watching the emotions and suffering 
 of the friends. He knew it was vain at present 
 to interfere ; for, like a torrent that has burst 
 its bounds, grief will have its course. He 
 Stood like a pitying angel ; and though his own 
 
 R 3 
 
366 DOMICILIARY VISITS. 
 
 sorrow was deep, he felt alone for them, and 
 them he wished to succour. At length he said, 
 " My dear creatures, afflict not thus your- 
 selves ! Remember you are Christians ; that 
 your hopes are not limited to this world, for 
 here you are ' strangers and sojourners, who are 
 seeking a better country, even a heavenly one !* 
 I know it is hard, nay impossible, to resist the 
 workings of nature and affection ; but yet it is 
 our duty to moderate and keep them within 
 due limits. Your grief has had its vent, and 
 you have submitted to the impulse of your 
 nature ; let Reason resume her throne, and let 
 Religion pour out for you its horn of salvation, 
 and open for you its refuge. Whilst I admire 
 your affection, and sympathize with your 
 sorrow, (for we have all lost a tender brother, a 
 faithful friend, and an endearing companion,) 
 I would still remind you that a serious and 
 weighty duty demands your care. You have 
 hitherto felt for yourselves, — you must now 
 devise some means to break this dreadful in- 
 telligence to your mother. Alas ! how shiill 
 we comfort her? But why shall we doubt? 
 Our God is gi'acious : — he will not always be 
 angrv ; for with the affliction he will send the 
 
DOMICILIARY VISITS. 367 
 
 means of succour to sustain us in the trial ; and 
 he has given us many instances to encourage 
 our hope, and strengthen our faith in him. 
 Recollect the Royal Psalmist; and now, since 
 he who is dear to us cannot be given back to us 
 on earth, let us endeavour to console ourselves 
 in the way that he did, and say, * Wherefore 
 should we weep, we cannot bring him back 
 again ? we shall go to him, but he shall not 
 return to us ?' Let us more fervently put our 
 trust in God, and he will send us down the 
 comfort of his Holy Spirit to soothe our grief 
 and allay our sorrows. My only concern is, 
 how we may best convey this afflicting news 
 to your mother. Who will undertake the 
 office ?" 
 
 " I will !'* — said a voice that trembled with 
 emotion. It was the voice of Eustace himself, 
 who sprang forward, and clasped to his heart 
 in an ecstasy of overflowing joy those dear and 
 astonished beings who so lately were bewailing 
 his death, and lamenting his loss. 
 
 After the first burst of overwhelming sur- 
 prise had passed, and something like reason 
 had succeeded, (for excess of joy is as dan- 
 gerous as excess of sorrow,) the lost one eii- 
 
 R 4- 
 
'568 DOMICILIARY VISITS. 
 
 quired what was the message which they wished 
 to be conveyed to his mother. " And where is 
 she ?" said he ; " why is she not here ? I hope 
 no evil has befallen her : satisfy my scruples, 1 
 beseech you." 
 
 " My dear, dear brother," said his sister, 
 " and are you really here ? Oh, how have we 
 been deceived ! What were we suffering on 
 your account ! My dear Marian, rejoice with 
 me, the lost one is returned ; it becomes us to 
 be thankful. Mr. Deacon, you shared in our 
 sorrow ; come, and participate in our joy." 
 
 The heart of Miss Hargrave had, during 
 this interval, undergone so violent a stniggle, 
 that it seemed awhile suspended Joy had 
 succeeded grief so rapidly and so powerflilly, 
 that it was almost more than her refined feelings 
 could sustain. Her silence was eloquence, and 
 the language of her looks " spoke unutterable 
 things." 
 
 " Your mother," said Mr. Deacon, who 
 wished to regulate this ecstatic scene by the ad- 
 mixture of something that might recall them to 
 what was yet to be performed ; " your mother, 
 my dear fellow, is at present much indisposed ; 
 and I fear the suddenness of your coming may 
 
DOMICILIARY VISITS. 369 
 
 be too much for her, if you break in upon her 
 Bt once. We were consulting how we should 
 announce to her the tidings of your death : it 
 is as necessary that we should be careful in ap- 
 prising her of your unexpected but welcome 
 return." 
 
 " My death, say you ! What is it you mean ?' 
 " This paragraph," continued Mr. Deacon, 
 " will explain the mystery." 
 
 " I was apprehensive," said Eustace, " that 
 some evil tidings might reach you, as I learned, 
 when we landed at Portsmouth, two days after 
 the date of this paragi'aph, that it was reported 
 our vessel had been lost. We encountered a 
 tremendous storm, but He was with us who 
 controuls the waves, ' though they rage hor- 
 ribly.' W^e experienced the truth of the 
 prophet's words, — ' when thou passest through 
 the waters, I will be with thee : and through 
 the rivers, they shall not ovei'flow thee.' — 
 Deacon, my dear friend, teach me to be thank- 
 ful : remind me of that beautiful prayer, ' Give 
 me neither poverty nor riches ; feed me with 
 food convenient for me, lest I be full and deny 
 thee, and say. Who is the Lord ?' Should I 
 ever presume on my good fortune, and worldly 
 
370 DOMICILIARY VISITS. 
 
 blessings, so as to show any indifference in my 
 religious and social duties, let your friendly 
 voice warn me from the danger, and your 
 brotherly hand draw me back to humility." 
 
 " Adversity," said Mr. Deacon, " is an evil 
 more tolerable than prosperity; for, what 
 strength cannot accomplish, insinuation or flat- 
 tery often undermines. But a well-regulated 
 mind, modelled upon the doctrines of the Gos- 
 pel, and directed by Christian principles, will 
 be found the best proof against trials of either 
 temptation. They are in the greatest danger of 
 being overcome who are governed by feeUngs, 
 and swayed by impulse ; for they are like per- 
 sons who enter the arena of combat unarmed, 
 relying upon their own strength, and the effect 
 of chance. Cleave only to those principles 
 which have been the rule of your past life, and 
 submit yourself to the good providence of God, 
 giving him the glory, and practising the duties 
 enjoined by the Gospel. Your gratitude to 
 Heaven will be evinced by your deportment to 
 your fellow-men, and by your own cheerful and 
 serene conversation. In this, therefore, per- 
 severe as you have begun, and Heaven, which 
 has other blessings in store for you, (casting a 
 
DOMICILIARY VISITS. 371 
 
 glance at Miss Hargrave,) will not cease to be 
 gracious." 
 
 Here a message from Mrs. Eustace, request- 
 ing the attendance of her daughter, interrupted 
 them. It was agreed that she should obey 
 the summons, and intimate that Mr. Deacon 
 was below, who was delegated to announce 
 tidings of unexpected happiness. This arrange- 
 ment served a double purpose ; for whilst it 
 contributed to prepare Mrs. Eustace for the trial 
 of joy which awaited her, it gave the lovers an 
 opportunity of indulging more freely in that 
 interchange of endearments, and reciprocity of 
 love, which virtue and true affection ever in- 
 spire. 
 
 " My dear Madam," enquired Mr. Deacon, 
 " I hope you are better ?" 
 
 " I thank you : I have had a good night, and 
 feel much refreshed; but," continued she, ad- 
 dressing her daughter, " have there been any 
 letters, my dear Selina, from your brother to- 
 day?" 
 
 " There has been an account from him, from 
 which we learn, that by this time, beyond our 
 anticipations, he is on his way to make you and, 
 all his friends happy," she replied. 
 
572 DOMICILIARY VISITS. 
 
 " How truly," said Mr. Deacon, " are the 
 mercies of the Lord manifested in his dealings 
 with the children of men ! Like the good pa- 
 triarch of old, you shall again see your son, and 
 give him your blessing. He comes to bring 
 you comfort ; and in due time, v»^hich may 
 Heaven long avert, to close your eyes in peace. 
 Even now, perhaps, he is landed in England ! 
 Even now, perhaps, he is travelling homeward, 
 anxious to press you to his heart, and gladden 
 your aged eyes ! Even now, he is near you, 
 and only waits for the opportunity to say> 
 * Bless me, also, oh, my mother !' " 
 ' " Heaven grant it !" she exclaimed : " to 
 see him will restore me to health ; and to clasp 
 him in my arms will almost make me young 
 ao;ain." 
 
 " You soon shall be restored then," said Mr. 
 Deacon, " for your son is already come ; and 
 here he is to vouch the truth of what I say." 
 
 Eustace himself was there, and M^yian at 
 his side. A touching scene ensued, more easily 
 to be conceived and felt than described. 
 
 " I have lono^ed for this moment," said the 
 dutiful son, the affectionate brother, the constant 
 lover, and the steadfast friend. " Yes, with 
 
DOMICILIARY VISITS. 373 
 
 fond anticipation have I dwelt upon the hour 
 of my return, when I could embrace my dearest 
 friends, and welcome them to share in my hap- 
 piness. My joy overflows. — Absent from my 
 home, and on a foreign coast, I counted each 
 hour a day, till I set sail for the spot which 
 contains my best of earthly treasures. Oft, 
 when wandering through plantations of cooling 
 green, which form refreshing shades against 
 the violence of the scorching sun, I have 
 thought on my native home, and found con- 
 solation in thus giving existence to my reflec- 
 tions : — 
 
 * My native home, my native home, 
 As here in distant lands I roam, 
 My thoughts unconscious turn to thee, 
 Dear spot of guileless infancy ! 
 
 ' In thee is every joy on earth, 
 Nurse of my sires, land of my birth ! 
 For thee, my feelings ever burn, 
 Oh, when shall I to thee return ? 
 
 ' Land of the free, my native soil. 
 Where plenty blesses those who toil. 
 And where Religion's lovely rest 
 Is mildest seen, and honour'd best ! 
 
374 DOMICILIARY VISITS. 
 
 ' What though in thee no viands grow — 
 Its front dark Slavery dares not show, 
 But Justice bares for all her sword, 
 And every Peasant is a Lord. 
 
 ' My native home, my native home ! 
 Soon, soon to thee, my steps shall come. 
 When from my active duties free, 
 Dear spot of guileless infancy !' 
 
 " When on the peaceful Sabbath-day I have 
 viewed labour relax from its toil, and slavery 
 cease from its burden, I have blessed the wise In- 
 stitutor of that blessing ; and when my repeater 
 told me it was the hour for my family at home to 
 obey the summons to Divine worship, which has 
 called successive generations to the same house 
 of prayer, I have loved to repeat, dear Marian, 
 your favourite lines : — 
 
 * I love to hear the village bell ; 
 To me its rude and simple knell 
 Discourses of that happier time. 
 When honest duty was no crime. 
 
 ' How many an ear, an eye, a tongue. 
 Now closed in death, when this hath rung. 
 Hath listen'd, look'd, and talk'd its praise, 
 In England's less-divided days. 
 
DOMICILIARY VISITS. S75 
 
 < For then it told, in solemn tone, 
 Of some dear friend or neighbour gone, 
 And spoke a language all confest, 
 When gain'd the dead their long, last rest. 
 
 ' And weekly, when the Sabbath came, 
 It roused devotion's native flame ; 
 Its cheerful note the hinds obey'd, 
 And none by cav'ling doubts were sway'd. 
 
 * Man was not then so prone to change. 
 For sudden fancies wild and strange ; 
 Nor had he left that path to God, 
 Which his forefathers erst had trod. 
 
 * Hence do I love thy simple knell. 
 And e'en thy cov'ring, village bell. 
 And all that speaks of times gone by. 
 So full of honest piety. 
 
 ' Oh ! when I feel death's leaden sleep, 
 W^hen friends around my coffin weep, 
 May thy rude, venerable knell. 
 Waft to my soul its last farewell !' 
 
 " Do not think me tedious. My heart dilates 
 so much with joy, that I cannot restrain the 
 utterance of my thoughts — they must have 
 passage. I am returned to my country, and to 
 all that are dear to me. I am thankful for this 
 blessing, and humbly confess it is the Lord's 
 
376 DOMICILIARY VISITS. 
 
 doing. To him, therefore, let us be grateful. 
 Henceforward let us trust in his mercy, since 
 we have at all times, and especially now, found 
 him both gracious and merciful. To him let us 
 offer the ' voice of thanksgiving, with such as 
 make holiday.' " 
 
 " My dear friends," said Mr. Deacon, "you 
 have my most sincere and hearty congratula- 
 tions. My presence cannot add to your joy. 
 In a few days I shall feel happy to repeat my 
 visit. In the meantime, farewell !" 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 London: 
 
 Printed by A. &R.Spotti3WOode, 
 New-Street-Square. 
 
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