. f. m OF Tin: \T PRINCETON, N. J. BONATIOX O W SAMUEL AGNEW, or PHILADELPHIA. PA. G4t> LIBRARY OF Till". Theological Seminary, PRINCETON, N.J. Case, 15&~: ^vision.. snelf. (^555 Se, ' 1'^ Booh. ..—•«•-. PARTICULARS THE LIFE OF A DISSENTING MINISTER. WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. [Juries Dos "With occasional Reflections, illustrative of the Education and professional State of THE DISSENTING CLERGY, And of the Character and Manners of THE DISSENTERS in general. Voluptas Solamenque niali . Virgil. LONDON: Printed for the Author, by J. Adlard, 23, Bartholomew Close ; And sold by G. JONES, No. 17, Ave Maria Lane ; and to be had of all other Booksellers. Price 5s. 6d. in Boards. CONTENTS. Page Dedication to my Chilflren v Preface xi Chapter I. — Introduction — Story com- mences 1 Chapter II. — Preparatory Studies, to the End of my first Academic Year 8 Chapter III. — Second Year of Preparatory Study 31 Chapter IV. — Third Academic Year - - 48 Chapter V. — Commencement of Preaching, during the last Year of my Academical Course ------ 6l Chapter VI. — From the Conclusion of my Academical Studies to my Settlement as a Minister ------ 75 Chapter VII. — Commencement of my Mi- nisterial Function - - - - - S5 Chapter VIII. — Ministerial Ordination - Q5 Chapter IX. — Settlement with a Congrega- tion of General Baptists — Account of tlie People — Voluntary Removal, and reasons for it 116 Chapter X. — New Settlement — Douhts res- pecting an Order of Ministers — Douhts removed - - - - - - 120 CONTENTS CONTINUED. Page Chapter XL — Death of Infants — Passion for Agriculture — It leads to a Change of Situation, which I consider as the greatest Error of my Life - - - - 128 Chapter XII. — Success of Farming, with Agricultural Speculations - - - 141 Chapter XIII. — Rescue of young Candidates for the Ministry from the Effects of Into- lerance ------ 145 Chapter XIV. — Disgraceful Intrigues — Con- gregational Secession - - - - 149 Chapter XV. — Perpetuity of Baptism ? - 155 Chapter XVI. — Biographical Sketches — Conclusion - - - - - - l66 DEDICATION TO MY CHILDREN. My Dear Children, I INSCRIBE this to you, who kno\V the author, that you may learn to respect the principles of conscience by which your father has ever endeavoured to direct his conduct, and which, if they shall be allowed to direct your's, will support you under as great calami- ties as he has endured, should they, contrary to my earnest wishes and prayers, visit you in your future lives. As you have little other hope before you but that which may arise from your own exertions and virtues, it may not be unserviceable to you to observe how diligence, economy, and independence of mind, exercised on my part and that of your mother, have hitherto supplied you and me with many things necessary to respectability and comfort, under the most unfavorable cir- cumstances that commonly attend any condi- tion of human life. 9 VI DEDICATION. But I have a higher motive in calling yonr attention to this little work. Most ardently do I wish that the account here given may soften your hearts to kindness and respect for the ministers of religion, so that you may, whether you shall be in prosperous or adverse situations, form exceptions to the generality of the Presbyterian Dissenters, who view the in- structors, whom their cause demands, pining in difficulties, with few attempts to alleviate them, and fewer attempts of that nature, un- attended with a want of regard to their feel- ings, that renders their greatest difficulties the least of their evils. The descendants of Dis- senting Ministers are not less liable to this censure than others, as my experience loudly testifies. It seems as if the}' are resolved to have their turn in the bitter work of torment- ing a set of men, whose want of wealth sub- jects them to indignities, while their virtues and acquirements most certainly place them far beyond the community which the}' instruct almost gratuitously. But I beseech you, by the *' mercies of God," that you *' esteem them very highly in love for their work's sake," and that you make the extent of your ability the measure 3 DEDICATION"/ Vli of the remuneration which you shall make them. They cannot be rendered rich by any libe- rality, if such a word can he employed justly on this subject. Be, in this respect, exceptions to the body to which you will probably belong -, do honor to your own generous feelings ; and help to rescue the denomination from disrepute by the exercise of the noblest virtues, on this and every other occasion. Your acquaintance has been chiefly among the members of the established church, and this has been favorable to your manners and characters in many respects. The narrowness of party spirit, the unpolished demeanour, of many among Dissenters, whose intercourse is much confined to one another, and especially the illiberal treatment of their ministers, which too much prevails among them, are not to be found, or not in an equal degree, among churchmen. It will be well if you can derive? all that is good from every party. But the frankness of the English character, the ge- nerosity and nobleness of British feeling, which arc to be sought for almost exclusively in the church community, should not dazzle you, and lead you to undervalue other equally a 2 till DEDICATION. estimable properties to be found in the sect with which you and I are connected. Dissen- ters assert the right of private judgment, the sufficiency of the Scriptures, and the necessity of free inquiry. Among them is to be found the greatest portion of the spirit of inquiry, and of ardor for religious truth. They are generally, if not universally, advocates of civil and religious liberty ; while their private morals are comparatively correct, indepen- dently of the mental irregularities which I have pointed out to you. Let these noble princi- ples of 3'our party be cherished by you with earnestness and zeal : and let the frank and honorable manners of the prevailing party be ingrafted on them, which, being thus blend- ed together, will render you all that your father wishes you to be, if you add that ■which, I hope, is not confined to any party-— true piety. You are aware that I design none of 3^011 for my own profession. If I were rich enough to render you independent of that profession, I know of no mode of life which I would sooner recommend to you, as it is highly fa- vorable to the cultivation of virtue and in- DEDICATION. h tellect. But even then 1 should like to see you occupying your own chapels, and collect- in ho have equalled and even surpassed any whom he has taught. Under this master I acquired an exact acquaintance with a few of the writings of the Greeks and Romans, which constituted the whole of his course of education. B2 Having a thirst for knowledge, it was not difficult for me to pick up, without any assistance but that which was supplied by my own readiness of compre- hension and by some degree of desultory industry, no inadequate acquaintance with ancient and modern geography, with history, and with English poetry. At the same time, as nry uncle had a good taste for theology, I was stimulated to read books of divinity and to study psalmody or sacred music. From the first was derived a considerable knowledge of morals and religious controversy, and the last enabled me to sing at sight most plain tunes that I could procure. The taste for both pursuits has remained with me, in no small measure, to this day. Even some of the books then read continue to be favorites with me, and the taste, at that time acquired, is not likely to aban- don me till the grave shall receive my mortal body. During my juvenile education, much was done and much was endured. The ability and skill of the master compensated for his irregularity of attendance, and the quickness of the youth supplied the defici- ency of books, of encouragement, and of direction. The pine flourishes amid the wastes of nature, and the inclemencies of climate. The growth of my fa- culties was not much stunted by the barrenness which suiTOunded me, or by the neglect of culture to which it was doomed. I wish the compaiison would hold in other respects. Four or live year?, from the death of my father, brought me to the end of my education at school, and to the commencement of my eighteenth year. The severity of the master, and the capriciousness of the uncle, wrung tears of deep affliction continually from my heart, without destroying the elasticity of my mind, and without materially impairing the cheer- fulness of my temper, which was naturally mirthful and gay. Indeed, during all the scenes of my sorrows, my spirits have ever maintained their equality to every situation, and my disposition has been always ready to receive diversion from every pleasant oc- currence. Almost at the very moment that ail my muscles are quivering with the anguish of unkincness, I can laugh at every thing that is ludicrous, and join in every scene of joy and merriment. My character is a compound of exquisite, and often contradictory, feelings. My mind is liable to be plunged into un- bounded grief, and to be elevated into unrestrained gladness. Alas! grief and suffering have, too generally, constituted my portion of existence. At the time which had now arrived, my most se- rious difficulties began. Before this, I had suffered much. But the circumstances of my life had hitherto been, in a great measure, arranged and conducted by others. My fare was plain, but I had been used to it, and it was provided without my contrivance and foresight. My habiliments were rustic and unfashi- onable, but they were warm and cost me no thought, except that they sometimes mortified my vanity on B3 account of their want of clcganc?, of which I had acquired some imperfect ideas. Those things, how- ever, occasioned no good ground for lasting regret, nor did they to produce it. But now real perplexity commenced. My uncle, how consistently with his engagement to be responsible for my education I do not decide, now disclaimed all further obligation to charge him- self with my expenses, and to provide for my future instruction. There was no other on whom I could much depend. Not quite twenty pounds formed the whole sum which my father had been able to be- queath me, as my portion. With this sum I had to support myself during four years of preparatory stu- dies, for the ministry ; four years to be spent in the acquisition of mathematical and theological know- ledge; four years that might seem to demand extra- ordinary resources for securing comfort, and respec- tability, and the means necessary for mental cultiva- tion. I review this portion of my life with amaze- ment and horror. From nothing, every thing was to be supplied. Are there any who have had so much to achieve with such scanty equipments? Have any had before them so dark and intricate a journey, which, without much guidance or direction, they have accomplished with success? Notwithstanding every impediment, I contrived to grope out mv way. The relation who now abandoned me, however respectable for talents, and attainments, and virtue, in other respects, employed tlie irritability of conscious unkindness to add to the distress which arose from the difficulties which I had to encounter. My me- mory furnishes me with a perfect recollection of my departure from his house in the autumn of 1784. It was a period of undescribable distress. Every feeling was in direct contrast and opposition. The ingenu- ousness of youth inspired unfeigned gratitude for past obligations, while indignation was roused by, and spurned at, unmerited harshness of treatment. Reproaches for services received stopped the accents of acknowledgment which were ready to escape from my tongue. My heart was torn by contradictory emotions. Tears offered themselves for my relief, and would have flowed abundantly, had I not been forced to wipe them away by the scoffs with which they were observed and answered. I proceeded on my melancholy journey in a state of suffering which none can comprehend who have not experienced it. At no subsequent part of my life have I experienced many acts of unmixed kindness. I have conferred more obligations than I have received. Such as I have accepted have generally been rendered the source of great distress to my feelings, as they have been accompanied with something that ever betrayed in their donors what served to point them with a sting. It has been my own endeavor, if I have, at any time, ■done any good, to let the good be unmixed; to bless B 1 and profit without inflicting, by any circumstance, a wound on the heart, the pang of which is doubly felt when it arrives in company with a favor. CHAPTER II. With such scanty means and under such unfavor- able circumstances as have been partly described, I began my more serious studies. At the institution into which ! was admitted, the fees of the tutor were defrayed out of certain funds established for that purpose. The students had an annual exhibition or allowance cf ten pounds a year each, with occasional donations, to some or to all, of a guinea or two, and seldom more! It has been already observed that my mind lias ever been equal to the circumstances in which I have been placed, although they have never been very happy or prosperous. Early opportunity of exer- cising its powers of this nature presented themselves. At the age of seventeen or a little mere, I had to di- rect myself, and to provide my own food and clothing for four years to come out of the small sum mention- ed. That which seldom disturbs young persons similar age occurred to my thoughts and powerfully impressed me. I felt deeply the necessity of the most rigid economy, and practised it with unvarying self- denial and heroic firmness. No propensity was in- dulged but that of making a respectable figure. As far as it was practicable, my dress was minutely at- tended to, and it is incredible with what care I ma- naged to make it last long, and appear respectable. 1 succeeded to a miracle, and had the character of a Beau, among my fellow students. My efforts have, no doubt, been equalled by others who had similar principles in similar circumstances. What difficulties will not resolution and perseverance subdue! Yet I look back upon the exertions which my struggles cost me with something like incredulity, and can scarcely believe the story which Truth only induces inc to detail. Here it may be worth observing how advantageous, in some circumstances, an honorable birth and a cre- ditable family may sometimes prove to young persons of good principles, while it is certain that these acci- dents, unaccompanied by virtue and ingenuousness of mind, too generally lead to pride, to embarrassment, and to vice. Born, as I was, of one of the best and most ancient families, in the province which gave me birth, though, in my time, reduced by generosity, improvidence, and extravagance; educated with a strict regard to the dictates of conscience, and the principles of virtue and religion, I found myself en- B 5 19 durd with a certain sense of respectability, a feeling of importance, and a taste for elegance, which natu- rally arise from such circumstances, while they were chastened and disciplined by truth, integrity, and honor. These qualities led me to husband my resources, and, at the same time, to employ them towards se • curing consideration and respect. Had my views been less serious, had my taste been less refined, the narrow means with which I was supplied would have failed. I should have dragged on my e\istencc, for four years, in beggarly slovenliness and slothful de- pendence. As it was, my time was spent in rigid self-denial, in scanty neatness, in incredible and un- deviating economy. Such efforts are, sometimes, produced by accidents in life, especially when they arc qualified and controlled by the early and effectual adoption of honorable principles ! With ten pounds a year, and a few occasional do- nations, I contrived to pay for lodgings, food, ami fire, for two or three years. Less than twenty pounds a year, arising from these resources and a very small addition from my own scanty property, furnished me with all my support, including clothing, books, and travelling expenses. All were brought within the narrowest practicable limits. My studies were not neglected amid the anxiety that lay at my heart, and the efforts of contrivance imposed by inadequate re- sources. To the learned languages I was devoted. 11 from taste and hereditary ambition. The mathema- tics were cultivated from a sense of honor and fear of disgrace. Theology seemed necessarily to form a part of the education of a scholar. From the begin- ning, I contrived to effect an alliance between divinity and literature, to unite the study of revelation with polite learning. The reader will allow me in this place to speak the dictates of a more mature judgment, the language of no inconsiderable experience. To the classics an inadequate attention is paid at the seminaries of education supported among Protestant Dissenters. Scarcely one of our ministers in ten can read either of the learned languages, I mean those of Greece and Rome, without exciting feverish irrita- tion in accomplished scholars. Total inattention to quantity is almost universal, or I have been unlucky in my acquaintance and observation. This deficiency is so entire that it is not even suspected by themselves to exist, and a mixture of barbarism, self-compla- cency, and self-cousequcncc ensues, which cannot fail to disgust. It is not pleasant to speak humiliating truths of men who are otherwise highly respectable. But it is impossible not to lament, and consequently not to wish to remove, imperfections that tend to degrade characters distinguished for virtues aud attainments. The whole truth would not bear detailing. Scarcely any portion of the learned professions has less de- served Jhe reputation of a learned education. it BO" If may perhaps be allowed me to speak more particu- larly to the general subject, while it gives me no pleasure to enter further into special detail. 1. In a divine, the knowledge of the ancient lan- guages appears to be intimately connected with his professional studies. It would be almost an insult to observe, that the. revelation of the Son of God is conveyed to men in one of the learned languages. It must be unsatisfac- tory to himself, destructive of his usefulness as a teacher of others, and disreputable to him among the well-educated of his profession, if a Christian minister cannot peruse and illustrate the very words in which his religion, and that of his flock, is given. The criticisms of the learned should, at least, be com- prehended by him, or they must remain of little use and advantage. Without a knowledge of Greek, even the genuineness and authenticity of the Ne\T Testament cannot be so satisfactorily scrutinised and understood ; the text of the Word of God will be but imperfectly studied and determined ; the labors of a Griesbach will be entirely thrown away, with all their important influence on sacred learning; the most useful of the fathers will lie unknown; indeed, little good theology can be acquired without the Greek language, while it is scarcely necessary to prove the usefulness of an acquaintance with the Roman classics, through which the refined tongue of the most refined people is generally learned. »3 2. Classical literature is of most importance to a dissenting divine, as it enables him, in some measure, to make up, as an instructor of youth, the deficiency of emolument so notoriously disgraceful among that body. To what it may be owing I know not ; but the fact is certain, that, among ministers and laity of the nonconformists, a taste for science prevails to a greater degree than a taste for literature, and their clergy are better mathematicians and experimentists than scholars. Nothing can be more preposterous, or less advantageous. The one qualification can scarely be called into exercise, with any degree of profit, whereas the other could never fail to increase their fame and their income. The illiteracy of this body is become notorious, and the sect is held very cheap, in the eyes of the learned and judicious, on that account. Too many things are aimed at in our seminaries. Three or four instructors arc retained, who have each two or three departments to occupy, as may be seen in a prospectus of the course of study pursued in any of our places of education. The nuinher of tutors may not be too great, but the number of branches of learning and science may, with advan- tage, be curtailed, by one half of their amount. Many of them are of no consequence to a theolo- gian, as they may be acquired by private industry, during the course of study, or during the course of Jife. At our universities great scholars are made, 14 and great mathematicians. This is effected by bringing education to a focus, by concentrating the efforts of instruction, by directing the attention of students to a few objects. If I meant to raise a laugh, it could be done by merely giving, in detail, the logic, the ecclesiastical history, the Jewish anti- quities, &c. &c. &c. to which our instructors seem to force their ingenious pupils to attend. What a noise about nothing ! What laborious idleness ! What mischievous industry ! As a friend to learning and religion, this subject has great interest in my heart. Most grievous to my feelings has my intercourse, with my brethren in the ministry, been rendered on its account. They rank among the most amiable of mankind, and the most respectable for general knowledge. In an ac- quaintance with their profession, they often make a surprising progress, according to their means and resources. More learning is not necessary to render them acceptable preachers, as the people are not judges of their proficiency. With inferior literature they often make more acceptable ministers, because they have, on that account, a less refined taste. Our people are not absolutely ignorant and uncivi- lized, so as to be pleased with pure vulgarity; the zealots of the day, only, deserve this character. The body of Presbyterians are in a certain state of cultivation. It is that middle state which divides vulgarity iVom refinement, Tliev are in that degree 15 of civilization which may he expected from their condition in life, as they are composed principally of the middling class. Of this state of culture it is remarked, that it de- parts from simplicity by way of distinguishing itself from the inferior orders, who possess simplicity even to rudeness and disgust. The middling ranks of life please themselves with show, and are fond of gaudiness and pomp. It happens to higher ranks, as it does to ages of superior refinement, to cultivate simplicity, with which they blend a superior taste* \\ Inch banishes the vulgarity of a less refined state of society, and gives the mind a sort of rarified and spiritualized pleasure, not to be found in the more showy customs and maimers of those who stand be- tween them and the common herd. The oratory, which delights these different con- ditions of life and society, is essentially different. The mean ami ignoble can digest the offscouring of all language and images. The great can relish no- thing but the attic simplicity of true learning. The mass of men, who stand in the midway, delight ia language loaded with ornament, in images highly colored, in metaphors of high sound, without ob- serving much their want of propriety and singleness. A less learned ministry, though not an unlearned one, makes its way, to admiration, among them. And it may be reckoned upon, almost infallibly, that their popular preachers are deficient in taste. If and learning, and therefore exactly suited to the class of men to whom they address themselves, while their more learned preachers are too simple for them, and yet not formed to address the lower class of men. But what these more popular and less learned preachers gain in acceptableness, they clearly lose in respectability. They are popular, but not instruc- tive: and a visit to our congregations would shew that the Christian knowledge, to be found among them, is in an inverse ratio to the popularity of their ministers. A fine flourishing congregation means, generally, one in which there is scarcely any know- ledge of the principles of religion, and as little practice of its peculiar duties. In vain will the study of the Scriptures, or attendance on the peculiar ordinances of Jesus Christ, be sought among them. They are dissenters without knowing any ground of dissent. They attend their chapels, to hear the florid sermons already mentioned, but not to worship God. They speak of the sermon, but never of the devo- tion. They never quarrel with their ministers for neglecting the instruction of the young, but for not indulging the meretricious taste of their half-polish- ed parents. The duties of family religion are al- most unknown, and a sermon and a prayer, read on Sunday evening, make up the sum total of do- mestic devotion. The reputation of the body is also lost among 17 the world which surrounds them. The illiteracy of the preachers is not atoned for by their pulpit fluen- cy, and the ignorance and u religion of the people afford but a poor proof of the excellency of their instruction. In my opinion numbers ill requite us for want of piety and Christian knowledge. Declamation is but an ill substitute for literature, taste, and refinement. It is devoutly to be wished that, though our num- bers should be reduced, our respectability may be increased, that our weight may be advanced, that our knowledge may be improved, that our devotion may be invigorated. We should hold a higher place in society, if our moral and intellectual cha- racter were of greater repute, and if the learning and taste of our ministers were of more unequivocal estimation. To speak unacceptable truth is not pleasant to my mind. But, if I speak, it must be faithfully. If I offend, it matters not, if I likewise correct. If I he fame of my party should be diminished by my observations, it is of little consequence, if I cau improve their character. If they come to have merit, they will also come to have respect, and per- haps even numbers. To make apologies was no part of my intention when I began to give the public this account of myself. If that which I write needs an apology, it should be suppressed. It is my opinion that all IS which is contained in this book is worthy of atten- tion, and calculated to create interest. But I wifl return from my digression, and proceed with my story. The first tutor, whose instruction I enjoyed at our seminary, was a man deeply read in Rabbinical learning, and profoundly acquainted with the He- brew tongue. Such was the bigotry of the town, towards the beginning of the 18th century, that the Jews could obtain no place of residence but from the preceding dissenting pastor, who let to them some houses with which the chapel was endowed. Our tutor had contributed to protect them, and had formed much acquaintance with their men of learning. By such, and other means, he had ac- quired an admirable proficiency in the language of the Old Testament, which he read after the pronun- ciation of the German Jews. He was a strong ad- vocate for the use of the vowel points, and would not willingly consent to relinquish them. It has ever been a subject of deep lamentation with me, that I made but little use of the superior learning of this gentleman, in this part of my stu- dies. From some unaccountable cause, my mind had a deep aversion to the study of Hebrew. To pass examination was my utmost aim. And at no subsequent period have I attempted to remove the deficiency. My course has been one of incessant toil ; my aversion is not now conquered ; and I con* 15 sirlei it too late in life, surrounded as it is still with never-fending occupation, to make myself master of this language, so necessary to every accomplished theologian. But I would earnestly recommend it to our professors and students, to relinquish some of their Jewish antiquities, and of their experi- ments, in order to become illustrious Hebricians and skilful Hebrew teachers, of whom there are so few, in this day, among the clergy of every name. Our tutor was, also, a good mathematician, and my progress, in the inferior branches of mathema- tical science, under him, was more to my present satisfaction than that which I made at any subse- quent period of my life. With Maclaurin's Alge- bra, I became pretty well acquainted. The course of our studies, at this time, was selected with judg- ment. It embraced a few most important points. We read Greek and Hebrew, studied chronology and mathematics, and transcribed original lectures on devotion, which were very valuable. We wasted no time in petty studies with our tutor, who had no assistant. Our number amounted to five only, of whom, however, not one has made any figure in the world. One great fault was committed by all : too much was given to rambling and sauntering, to which we were led by the delightful walks and grounds which surrounded the place. It was an universal error, which influenced the inhabitants, 20 young and old. There was also too much dalliance with the young ladies of the place, who were uni- versally without beauty. Yet our morals were un- corrupted. I do not believe that any one of our students had acquaintance with the disreputable part of the sex, although they abounded. On the whole, the first year was a year of solid improve- ment. At the same time, I must confess, that a very disproportionate attention was paid to my fa- vorite Greek, and I do not know that I made much progress in my acquaintance with it during that time. It was with me a period of vanity, which is ever unfavorable to proficiency. I felt that I knew more Greek than all the students, and suspected that I was not second to our tutor. Emulation was wanting, and I had not yet sufficiently appreciated the advantage, or tasted the pleasure, of this most important study. It is long before we are convinced that we know but little. To this year I look back with no common satis- faction. It was one of advantage, and of compa- rative happiness. No equal portion of my time, preceding or succeeding, has brought me equal profit or enjoyment. These days, however, were to have an end. Our tutor, after one year of super- intendence, was weighed down by study, by anxiety, by indisposition, and by age. Before we commen- ced our studies, in the subsequent session, and iu a few days after our return, he died. 51 He wns truly my friend, and my father's friend. There was, in his time, a constellation of illustrious ministers in our province, which disappeared ahout the same time. No stars of magnitude have since occupied their stations in that hemisphere. Their names are held in profound veneration in their dis- trict. But they deserve a more lasting remem- brance. If I were adequate to the task, and could be furnished with materials, they should be made as celebrated, as scholars and preachers, though not as authors, as our Lardners, and Taylors, and Bon- sons. With what veneration was I wont to hear their names pronounced, in my youth! With what veneration shall I carry their remembrance with me to the grave ! During the whole of the first year of my novi- tiate, nothing happened that is worthy of particular record. It was a year of study and amusement, in which I added to my stock of knowledge, and en- joyed tranquillity and happiness. At this time a disposition to write blank verse seemed to have taken possession of my mind, which has continued to amuse me at many subsequent periods of my life. But it is not my intention to suffer a line to appear before the public. Indeed, of the verses at this time composed, I retain none, nor do I remember the subjects of them, further than that they were a', was given to n.y fellow students, to be presented, if they pleased, to any of the ladies with whom 22 they rambled in the walks and grounds, None were made for my own use. One thing of a very foolish nature I may venture to relate, which to some may appear an unimportant occurrence, and which to me gave, at the time, uu- describable pain, and continues to suffuse my cheeks with the blush of shame whenever I call it to mind. My tutor's daughter had rather a remarkable phy- siognomy, and one of my fellow students had a eerious attachment to her. To produce a laugh for a moment, I drew a rude profile of the lady on my slate, and held it up, at the time of the lecture, to the view of her admirer. Without further reflec- tion, I laid by the slate and departed. Willi a de- gree of want of generosity, that I even now deem culpable, he contrived to shew the picture to his friend, and to her brother, a spirited seaman, who recognised the caricature, and resented it as an insult on one whom he greatly loved. In the course of the day, a letter was presented to me, expressive of great indignation, the contents of which I have forgotten, except part of one sentence which pur- ported, that a continuance of such conduct would "kindle a fire in his breast, which all my influence could not quench." With the fool-hardiness of an inexperienced youth, I defied his resentment, and announced myself ready to meet it in what way he thought proper. The consequence was, a generous declaration of the brother that the answer was spirited, and a discontinuance, on my part, of all such merriment in future. Some shyness ensued between the parties, which was entirely removed when all participated in unfeigned grief for the death of our venerable and excellent tutor. I class the death of this good and great man under the first year of my studies, because he never resumed his labors, and our second year was spent under other instructors. Having brought my story to the middle of my nineteenth year, and the end of the first year of my studies for the ministry, it may not be unacceptable to throw together a few thoughts on the time at which ministerial preparation should commence. The youth designed for the universities are sup' posed, in general, to commence their academical career about their eighteenth year. This meets my entire approbation. Among the dissenters, it is begun, too often, two years sooner. The course of study, necessary to obtain a Bachelor's degree at Oxford and Cambridge, continues for three years, and the Universities aie left when the student ar- rives at twenty-one. The dissenting student also leaves his college at twenty-one, because his course is extended to four or five years. But the two cases are widely different. The candidate for or- ders, in the establishment, is ordained deacon at twenty-two and a half, or at twenty-three years of age, whereas the dissenting minister commences his '21 labors at the close of his studies, and settles with his flock at the age of majority. There arc errors, seemingly, in both arrangements. The candidate for episcopal orders studies for three years only, and undergoes no preparation for the ministry, pro- perly speaking, as he does not professedly receive theological instruction while he remains a student. All the proper qualifications for the pulpit are sup- posed to be acquired by solitary study, during the interval between taking a degree and taking orders. This time can, but seldom, be employed advanta- geously, and industry without direction, let it be never so diligent and persevering, must greatly miss its aim. The consequence is too visible, and I could give much detail of the inadequacy of our young clergy for their important profession. But the age at which they are placed at college, and the age of ordination, are proper and judiciously determined. However, the period of college education should be extended two years, to be spent, under expe- rienced tutors, in theological study. Thus, the necessary qualifications would be acquired, and an important period of life would be spent to the best ad- vantage. " Workmen, that need not to be ashamed," would be provided for our established church. And I cannot help suggesting, that provision should be made, for the entire expenses of theological stu- dents, during two years after taking their degree, which the nation would be very well able to make, 25 and which would be made with every prospect of advantage. The error of dissenting ministerial education con~ sists in admitting students at too early an age. The period of eighteen ought, surely, to be adopted, with the same term of study as now established. At twenty-three, our young men would be well adapted for their labors. The time, from twenty- one to twenty-three, is now painfully employed in providing discourses for the pulpit, which would be employed much better in the acquisition of know- ledge. Besides the loss, as I may call it, of this invaluable portion of time, a distaste of study may be, too probably, acquired, and a dissipated turn of mind is in danger of taking place. In every point of view, the age of twenty-three or twenty-four is much to be preferred for the commencement of ministerial engagements. It is obvious to object, that the ministry, among dissenters, is so ill requited, that there would be great difficulty in inducing young men of promising abilities, and the parents of such young men, to look forward so long to an employment so unpro- fitable. But a remedy to this evil may easily be found. The Body should make provision, not o;ii\ for the college education of their candidates for the ministry, but for their pn-rions ethical ion for two t/airv, so that they may be supported, from sixteen to eighteen, without any further expense to their 26 families: And a few schools, under able masters, -should be selected and encouraged, at which these young novitiates should be placed for those two years. Great advantages would arise from this plan. The discouragement, arising from long ex- pectation, would be removed, and our ministers would stand a good chance of becoming sound classical scholars, which, on the present plan, they very seldom do. They would also become pastors at an age more proper and more favorable to their usefulness, with superior qualifications for their em- ployments, ami more decided habits of application and study. I cannot help thinking that this previous provi sion for the good education of our students de« mands the serious attention of our people. Many collateral benefits would be reaped from it, of which the chief would be, the acquisition of good schools among the party, which would flourish, if thus su- perintended and patronized, and secure a more res- pectable education for the children of our laity than can be expected from seminaries, which depend on private patronage, and which are continually dis- persing with the retirement of their individual go- vernors. In nothing have we been so inattentive to our respectability as in respect to our schools, which are always mere ephemera, without the chance of any permanent character or fame. We are not deficient in readiness to endow colleges. But our 27 schools are our disgrace, left without' support, and superintended by those only who are forced on the employment by scanty resources. The consequences are such as might be expected. The expenses of individuals for education are enormous, and yet the culture of our youth is despicable. If I could draw the attention of the establishment, and of the Dissenters, to these observations, my labor would be happily employed. During the whole of this year, nothing was done in composition, as far as I recollect, by any of the pupils, except a poetic translation of yEneas's speech, /En. i. 202 — 211, which was proposed to all, and given in by myself alone. The classical deficiency of the whole number was such, that no other seemed able to translate the passage. My success was, indeed, very small; but, small as it was, it surpassed that of my fellows, who did nothing. One couplet only do I remember, which may put my readers in possession of the measure of the literary taste and acquisitions of the young scholar at eighteen: -Pe nit usque sonant e9 Accestis scopiflos; voa ei Cyclopea =axa Exuerti; revueate auiuios. have tried The sounding rocks and Cyclopean shelves; Take counige comrades, and rouse up yourselves. Tlie only comment on this was, that shdves, in tins connection, had no sense, which I endeavoured to disprove by some authority or other. Nothing C 2 28 was said of the false quantity of (he word Cyclo- pean. This leads me to remark more at large on the universal disregard of prosody in all the schools and seminaries of Dissenters. It is a curious phaeuo- menon, for which it is not easy to account. The fact is certain, in general at least, if not to the extent which 1 have stated ; and, as I have not seen any reason for its existence offered, I may he allowed to suggest what has presented itself to my mind. It must be granted to me that Dissenters are more inclined, than others of the community, to adopt speculations of improvement, and to encourage schemes of innovation. This is ever the case with every minority in a community. It naturally springs from the comparative oppression under which they labor, which generates a spirit of complaint and dissatisfaction. From this disposition, much general good has arisen, and some partial evil. It has pro- duced improvements, and encouraged futile specu- lations. The circumstance which I have mentioned seems to be one of the evils which have proceeded from it. The fathers of nonconformity were accurate scholars. The ministers had received the advantage of a regular education. For a long time they ap- pear to have educated their youth with precision. They carried with them the methods of instruction 29 wfeici* had accompanied their own education ; and it appears that our clergy for some time were not much behind their contemporaries in exact litera- ture, except that some inferiority might be expected from their less ample establishments of education. It is well known to many of my readers, that, during the eighteenth century, a set of men arose who affected to have discovered compendious me- thods of teaching the learned languages, which consisted, to a great degree, of a comparative, if not total, neglect of quantity in reading the classic authors. Perhaps a disproportionate attention had been paid to this article, in some instances, and this was made a handle and a pretext for discouraging it entirely. It is not for me to scrutinise the motives of Burgh, of Clarke, and of Holmes. Whether they were mistaken zealots, eccentric projectors, or interested impostors, willing to give success to their own academies by deluding the uninformed, it is, perhaps, impossible at this distance of time to de- cide. But they produced an effect which has been attended with serious consecjuenees. With the world in general, however, they could not prevail. The learned were not to be deceived. The public schools were left uncontaminated by their innovations. But the Dissenters appear to have felt the influence of their plausible professions, which influence has not ceased entirely to this day. Compendious methods are not now without their c 3 30 advocates among th;m, who still propose their em- piricisms to the patronage of the credulous. Of the whole body of Dissenters, their ministers are most affected with the spirit of innovation. Tifese seem to have adopted, in their practice, tlie plan of compendious education, which was so plausi- bly presented to the world. They were, generally, the instructors of Dissenting youth. The laity were not backward to encourage a scheme, which promised to abridge their expenses, while they and their pastors were unapprehensive of the consequences to the lite- rature of their body. It is, at least, a fact, that the compendious methods were generally adopted in their places of education, and that, at this day, prosody is generally neglected in their schools. The system has still its strenuous advocates, as might be expected where there is a consciousness of inability to remedy it ; while that inability must preclude the remedy as long as it remains, which will be for some time, and until our instruc- tors have themselves been reformed. That event is not to be hoped for under our rising minister-school- masters, who are, even now, generally ignorant of quantity. Another race may rescue our sect from this reproach ; and, if I could contribute, by my observations, towards so desirable a consummation, I should have another reason of joy for communi- cating them to the public. They are meant well, and will, I hope, be perused candidh. 31 Of the five students, who were assembled during this first session of my course, three only had arrived at their second year, and not one of them after- wards deviated notoriously from the path of moral propriety. One may be considered, perhaps, as having laid some foundation for a suspicion of in- temperance. Not one, at the same time, has made any considerable figure in the world. Not one, except myself, could justly lay claim to even a mo- derate share of literature; and, whether my humble pretensions may be admitted by the public, is a question of considerable doubt, and, as yet, by no means decided. But enough has been said of this first year. CHAPTER III. Second Ytar of Preparatory Study. The incidents of such a life as mine are ne- cessarily few and unimportant, except to those con- nected with me, and to those who take some pleasure in religious biography. The opinions and senti- ments which may be interspersed through my pages, I consider of more consequence, and of more gene- ral utility. The next period which this work com- prehends is the second year of my academical course, extending from the nineteenth to the twen- tieth of my age. c i 32 The death of our tutor placed us under the su- perintendence of new instructors. They were two. One was a neighbouring dissenting minister, who attended two or three days in a week, and merely heard us read — as boys, at a village school, do the Testament, — the Lectures of Doddridge. Our number was considerably increased, consisting of about twelve pupils. Few could read the lectures without continual blunders. Fewer understood their plan or intention ; and I believe that not one received the least benefit. We played tricks, laughed, and quarrelled, continually. All had some religious opinions, though various, descending from the mystic heights of perfect Calvinism, to the less elevated regions of Arianism and Arminianism. More ig- norance, and more dogmatism, could not well be colkcted together atone place, although they ever accompany each other. By way of reproach, a few were distinguished by the honorable name of the scholars, which they, with sufficient vanity, readily accepted. The rest received and accepted, with seeming complacency, the less respectable appellation of ignoramuses. These appropriated to themselves, however, the proud possession of heart -knowledge, whilst they conceded to the former the humble property of head-knowledge only. Alas ! neither possessed the one nor the other in any enviable degree. There was a striking contrast in the manners of the tw« 33 factions, and, indeed, in their morals also. The pretended scholars were considerably polished, and trnly correct in all their outward conduct. The ignoramuses, with all their heart-knowledge, were a rude, brutish, smoking, sottish, crew. It is not my intention to be severe, but I must adhere to the truth. Some of the ignoramuses were preachers before their arrival, and continued to hold forth, occasionally, in direct contradiction to an established rule, that none should exhibit in the pulpit till the fourth year, and without the consent of the chief tutor. This rule was always very indifferently ob- served, and it was said that the gentlemen above, who had the supervision of the institution, connived at a breach of their own regulation. However it was, none but the scholars strictly abhered to this wise law, and of them I never heard any complaint, except in one or two instances. It is with shame I think of the despicable condition of the ministry, and the depraved taste of the people, when such instructors could be encouraged, or even tolerated. The stupidity and illiteracy of these guides, who certainly could not read, without egregious blunders, a chapter in the New Testament, was beyond all de- scription* Surely no part of the Christian world * Tlic account nbovc given is not exaggerated. On mature deliberation, I do not think that it even rijiials ilie truth. But, to prevent misapprehension, it is just to ol>- C 5 34 exhibits such a total want of proper qualifications in their teachers. Such men go not forth from the. filthy monasteries of Spain and Portugal. The specimens of burlesque exhibition, in Friar Gerund, are decent to what these sprigs of evangelism bel- lowed forth from their unhallowed lungs. But such subjects are too humbling to be protracted to any length of description. Such we were, and such \va c our theological training, in my second year. The tutor himself was respectable, and by no means con- curred in such irregularities.* serve, that it by no means applies to other Presbyterian seminaries, in which sound learning and taste have been successfully employed, and have produced some of the brightest ornaments of the dissenting cause and of human society. These have deserved, and do deserve, the warm- est applause, as that which I have described deserved, in my time, the severest censure, * The illiteracy of the Catholic clergy may, perhaps, be fairly presumed from the deficiency in classical know- ledge which was exhibited by the emigrants, both clergy and laity, who arrived during the Revolution from France, one of the polislic-d nations of Europe. Those alone who made the examination can be duly appre- hensive of that illiteracy. Although the public religious service of their church is in Latin, it has been my fortune to meet with few who understood the Latin lan- guage in a tolerable degree. It may be questioned if the majority comprehended the service which they read to their congregations, or the private devotions of the iheviary which they are under obligation to say daily, without neglect, except for an allowed reason. Of all mv acquaintance among them, and 1 knew many, not one understood Greek, nor do I recollect but one or two that knew the Greek aiph.tbtc. 30 The other tutor was a man of sound learning, and considerable science. He was, however, irritable from indisposition. When he preached, it was with Latimerian simplicity, with Baxterian earnestness. Oh ! what anguish of soul did that young professor feel, and evidently manifest, at our lectures. A few received the greatest advantage from his fretful, but indefatigable, pains and assiduity. My heart abounds with gratitude to him for arousing, in me, the taste It is easier, generally, to state facts than to ascertain their causes. In this instance, however, the cause may be discovered with comparative ease. In Catholic coun- tries, little reference is made to the Greek text of the Scriptures, as the Vulgate Larin is invested by the Church: with paramount authority. Besides, in them, little theolo- gical controversy takes place, and, if comparative religious liberty, as in France, leaves room for religious discussion, the disputes which may subsist are usually subtile, meta- physical contests, and not critical and philological argu- mentations. To whatever cause it may be attributed, it can scarcely be denied that but little of what is called literature has been found, for a long while, in all Catholic countries. German scholars, whose fame is so illustrious, have been almost uniformly protestants. Bavaria and Austria can boast no names of liteiary renown. Something, however, may be attributed to the influence of liberty. It may be fairly predicated, of the Catholics of the British dominions, that they excel those of other countries, although this may not lie wholly independent of the effect of competition, as the religion of Rome is not here possessed of overwhelming authority, which an- nihilates competition. It may be national partiality that dictates these observations, and this additional remark, that I am doubtful whether there is in Europe one pro- perly learned CftlhoHt out of the United Kingdoms, at least, one tolerable deck scholar, C (> 36 for literature, which, in the former year, had lain dormant, while my time was otherwise usefully spent. Gladly would I give his fame to the world with that distinction, which true genius and erudition ever de- serve. Many will remember him with enthusiasm, if they should peruse this allusion to him. He died of that decline which had swept away nearly the whole of his numerous family. Never, however, was labor lost as in this instance. Not above five or six of our number could translate a plain passage in a Roman author. Two or three only had sufficient acquaintance with Greek to make out a verse in the New Testament. The major part did not comprehend the axioms in Euclid's Ele- ments; and some did not understand even the terms employed in mathematical science. On most all his" efforts were wasted. They despised every species of improvement, and looked on the acquisition of know- ledge as little less than criminal. No eNhcrtation could excite the smallest diligence. Their only aim seemed to be, to pass through the seminary for the sake of the reputation which it was supposed to con- fer. This state of things continued during the whole term of my studies, and lias not, probably, improved since, under instructors who formed a part of these heart -fowu ledge men, and who have never acquired a moderate acquaintance with science or literature. To this pass is an institution come which might supply our churches with many useful 37 and enlightened ministers. How the managers of it can account for such superintendence is not for mc to conjecture. Public servants, in all departments, pay little regard to the service of their constituents. To this year I look back with a mixture of regret and pleasure. It was useful to me in various points of view, and added much to my stock of learning, taste, and general knowledge. In these respects I was indebted to the watchfulness and pains of my excellent friend, the tutor, whose fame I am record- ing. My happiness wis, however, considerably lessened. My mind dwelled on the state of my re- sources, which were continually diminishing. My sensibility was affected by the troubles and vexations of my friendly instructor, who was brutally requited for his pains by the scurrility and indiligence of his unworthy pupils, who eyed him with hatred because he did not class with those who arrogated to them- selves the possession of heart-knowledge, and who hated instruction, because they knew not its advan- tage, and had not ability to profit by it. I had my share of obloquy, also, as his friend, and for reasons similar to those which directed it against him. It was a scene of tumult and insult which I could scarcely brook, and which gave to my inexperience incredible anxiety. A son of mine should never euler such a place of education, or rather track a society of men under pretended tuition. Every evil might be expected to arise to morals and manners/ 2-8 to disposition and happiness, from association with such ignorance and brutality. Our party was often sufficiently revenged for their sufferings ; hut re- venge is a mortal enemy to happiness. Endurance and resentment were equally hostile to my peace. One thing appears to me extraordinary in the manners of the people of the town where our semi- nary was stationed. Scarcely any notice was taken of the young men hy any class or denomination. Indeed no place could he more unliterary, though flourishing greatly in trade and commerce. This had an unfavorable effect on the suitableness for promoting the good of society, of the candidates for the ministry. The situation was not convenient for the institution in many other respects, nor would it have been placed here, but for the advantage of the instruction of our late tutor. The experiment did not succeed, and the seminary returned to its former situation in a more favorable town. But this was after my time. I will, however, take this oppor- tunity of paying a deserved tribute of praise to the inhabitants of the latter place, who, without dis- tinction of religious denomination, or station and rank in the world, have ever cherished these sprigs of divinity with the utmost liberality and hospitable- ness. A literary taste has prevailed here to a much greater degree for ages ; and the institution is consi- dered as an honor to the town, and as favorable to its cultivation. But no advantages arc without their 29 alloy. A greater degree of dissipation has crept in than had prevailed in the former place, and, if pos- sihle, an ahated attentiun to study has supervened, although a greater polish of outward manners has taken place. Let me recommend it to the dissenting inhabitants of the towns which contain our institutions, to ex- tend a discreet hospitality to our future ministers. They will render a considerable service to our clergy,, and fit them greatly for their future professions, by a conduct that may conduce to their own improve- ment, while it produces a public advantage. It is probable that a taste for literature and science may be excited among their own youth, while some as- sistance may be derived towards its cultivation. The second year of my novitiate brings few oc- currences, of any consequence, to my recollection. It revived my taste for the learned languages, added a good deal to my stock of knowledge, principally by the opportunity it gave me of associating with my respected tutor, and diminished my conceit of myself, by observing him, at least, possessed of far greater acquisitions than my own. Our lounging perusal of the lectures of Doddridge was not without useful consequences to me, as I was induced, by the advice of this tutor, to read many of the books re- ferred to in them. I recollect having perused a con- siderable number of answers to deistical writers, es- pecially all those of Leland, and the history of my 4(5 country, in the voluminous pages of Rapin and Tindal. The general feeling of my mind, however, is, that it was a year of far greater profit than happiness. During its continuance I found hut one friend, my tutor; although one fellow student became a pretty intimate acquaintance, with whom I have continued in occasional intercourse, which has not produced much advantage or satisfaction. Nothing was done in composition in all this year. Our plan was not sufficiently arranged, and there was a good deal of uncertainty as to our future in- structors. Indeed the management of the institution has always been extremely deficient and erroneous on this point. Too much is left to depend on the fitness of ministers, settled with congregations in the district ; and inadequacy is tolerated for the sake of easing the funds of salaries, which are less ample on account of the provision which the tutors derive from their ministerial situations. This should not be, if the interest of learning is of any consideration. The institution wants reform. Its number of students is too large, amounting to twelve or fourteen, which is a superabundant supply for the congregations that may want their eventual labors. Every purpose of such supply would be answered by a decreased num- ber. About eight would be sufficient, two of whom should go oft* yearly, which would suit the course of lour years which is established, and render the im- 41 mediate employ of the young men, as pastors, more certain. An effort should be made to grant suf- ficient salaries to two tutors, who should have no other occupation, except the supply of a chapel be- longing to the seminary. All precariousness of finding suitable instructors would be thus avoided ; the young men would, in that chapel, have sufficient op- portunity for exercising their talents as preachers ; more attention would be paid to study ; and a freer scope would be given to discussion, as the tutors would not be fettered in their speculations by any fear of giving offence to a flock on whom they might depend. The last consideration is of great im- portance, as much inconvenience has arisen from the want of liberality of the tutors, whose services have been obtained, less on account of their fitness for their occupation and enlargedness of mind, than on account of the convenience of paying them inade- quate salaries, the scantiness of which has been made up by their ministerial emoluments. In this way, men of an illiberal turn of mind have been retained, who have carried their bigotry into their lectures, and whose greatest object has been to keep well with their flocks by their orthodoxy, and not to fur- nish enlightened pastors for our churches. The terms of admission have been narrowed; and young men of a free turn of thought have been plagued and thwarted, to the great diminution of their happiness. Who nfould believe it, that, on the present plan, the 42 respectable P board lias put at the head of its institution avowed Calvinists; that students have been rejected for want of belief in the Trinity; and that • has known, and countenanced, such a dereliction of every principle of liberty, of every right of private judgment? Had the. constituents been Calvinistic, they might lay down such restrictions as a part of their plan. But the P board can- not have adopted such restrictions, and they are abused when such restrictions have the sanction of their governors and visitors. Independently of the. illiberally and bad faith dis- covered in appointing Calvinistic and Trinitarian tutors in a seminary of presbyterian denomination, the effect appears to be unfavorable to learning and piety. The confessed inferiority in literature of Calvinistic ministers among dissenters is likely to prove unfriend- ly to the literary proficiency of young men whose education is conducted by them. But this is of se- condary importance. If it should be shewn that the piety of candidates for the ministry may be checked by their superintendence, the evil becomes too seri- ous to be despised. I am aware that a very different idea prevails on this subject. The fervent devotion of orthodox Christians is thought capable of deeply impressing those who witness it. To deny this, as a general proposition, is not my design; but, in the case now contemplated, it admits of serious doubt, if not of 43 clear confutation-. It will probably seem right, on reflection, to review the question, and to allow it more consideration than has generally been given it. A seminary supported by the presbyterian interest is naturally intended for the education of presbyte- rian, that is, of unorthodox and antitrinitarian, mi- nisters. It is contrary to the professed liberality of the denomination to render their places of education exclusive. But young men, of, what are sometimes called, liberal sentiments, will predominate in them. They cannot, consistently, be rejected. What is likely to be the effect on the piety of these, evidently designed for the future pastors of their churches, if they are brought up by orthodox instructors] 1. The principles of piety which accord with their religious sentiments cannot, under such circumstances, be inculcated on them. Surely this is a most grievous evil, as long as young persons want to be con- stantly reminded of whatever is grave and serious. It will be allowed that the priests of Fohi would teach devotion ineffectually to Christian disciples. Whatever fervor they might display, their lessons, being founded on unadmitted principles, would not carry conviction, would not deeply impress. This illustration, it is granted, is somewhat extravagant; but there is a sufficient dissimilarity between Calvi- nistic and Trinitarian principles and those of antitri- nitarians to render the lectures of orthodox teachers inefficacious on those who reject their creed. Besides m founding their precepts on maxims not acknowledged, they would neglect to dwell on such as would be ad- mitted, of which the disciples would greatly stand in need. If it were possible to abstain from topics likely to give disgust instead of producing impression, yet, if such topics as might produce effect were not enforced, young men must be in a deplorable state of neglect thus left unreminded, uninterested. They require to be constantly aroused, to be continually excited to reflection on the principles of piety, or they \\ ill he induced, by the heedlessness of youth, to forget God, and to banish all serious and devotional feelings. 2. The very appearance of devotion and piety of Calvinistic instructors, would tend, when connected with inadmissible principles and sentiments, to create disgust iu the minds of young persons, on account of that connection. Rejecting the religious views on which the piety of their governors would be founded, they would be in danger of rejecting all piety with them. The effect might appeal- as objectionable as the cause. It is a fact that such has very frequently been the consequence, and the youth of free opinions, who, by some chance, have been placed under the tuition of evangelical instructors, have not been even- tually the most serious men or pious ministers. Were it not an invidious task, this position might be sup- ported by copious examples. But conviction is more likely to arise from adverting to the nature itself of the case. 45 Is it not obvious that serious men, dwelling on admitted topics, would prove the most impressive in- dicators of religion on the minds of their disciples'? Do not young persons need to have serious principles impressed on their hearts continually, which could not be done by those who should be conscious that they produced no effect, on account of their own unacceptableness. Indeed, it is likely that the task, in such a case, would be unattempted, and thus the young, in their utmost need, would be left untaught and unaroused. One necessary cpaalitication in an instructor is ac- ceptance: another is earnestness and zeal. Both must be wanting when much discordance of princi- ple occurs; and both would meet in him whose principles suited those of his disciples. From him the lessons of piety would not produce disgust. They would not be associated with principles disapproved, which have a tendency to create dislike to any thing founded on them or connected with them. I therefore think that this subject requires recon- sideration. It is surely a hasty conclusion that a pious disposition is likely to be fostered by orthodox tutors in those who reject their principles. The contrary effect seems most likely to arise from such & plan. If this should appear well founded, our churches are not likely to be furnished with serious pastors if they are brought up under the superinten- dence of Calvinistic professors. 40 The efiect of inattention to composition was evi- dently seen in the following year, when it began to form a part of our course of study. Some in- stances of unskilfulness in that department will come to be mentioned in their proper place. The efiect is felt, 1 doubt not, by the pupils who survive, even to this day, wherever they are stationed as pastors. I have to regret many years of anxiety which I spent over pulpit compositions, which might have cost me much less labor, and possessed far superior merit, had it not been for this neglect. In- deed, I retain none of those discourses which were prepared during the first years of my ministerial career. A humbling perusal of them has long con- signed them to the flames. The evil was, however, lessened to me by a turn to write verses; by a de- sultory habit of drawing up essays, in the manner of the papers in the Spectator, which was derived from its perusal at school ; and by a regular plan, which I pursued during every year of my preparatory studies, of reading daily one of the articles subscri- bed with the letters forming the name of the Muse Clio, in that instructive and amusing work. Some taste for good writing was thus acqui-red, but the habit of ready composition could not be gained, on account of the iofrequency of the at- tempt. Another daily custom, not disadvantageous to me, may here also be recorded, as it began during this year. It was to read some passage daily in one 47 or other Greek author. If these minute detail.* should suggest any useful hints to my young friends, who may be undergoing a course of study, they will have been introduced with some advantage. I can scarcely form any estimate of the proficien- cy which I had acquired, when my second acade- mical year was completed, which brought me to the half of my twentieth year. Of the classic authors I had increased ray knowledge in some degree, having read a good deal of Cicero's Orations and other works, and several of the Orations of Demosthenes and of Isocratcs. Virgil, Horace, and Sallust, Homer's Iliad, and Xenophon's Memorabilia, I had read at school. During this year I had gone through the greatest part of Simpson's Geometry, and had commenced the study of Trigonometry. My taste, and the course of our studies, had produced a greater acquaintance with Theology; the Greek Testament was very diligently read, but not in any order. My friendly tutor was pious and devotional. The family that furnished my lodgings was serious. In other respects, there was very little attention paid to the properly religious culture of myself or others. There was certainly a deficiency in this point, although too much rigor, with respect to devotional exercises, might be attended with ill effects even on young men designed for the ministry. A disgust for devotion, which might arise from rigor, would be to them most unfortunate. If they should acquire a gloomy seve- rity, or become devotees, genuine religion would suffer more than it would gain from such friends. The mind should be led to contemplate serious sub- jects by the grave and religious conversation of in- structors, and the practice of devotion should be fostered by their seasonable example. On such ac- counts, tutors should be selected for their unques- tionable seriousness, as well as for their competent learning : neither ought to be dispensed with. But this period of my life must now be closed, or the reader may be fatigued, an effect wliich it is far from my intention to produce in any part of this work. CHAPTER IV. Third Academic Yiar. No one can conceive the anxiety which a youthful mind of sensibility endures from apprehension of in- sufficient resources. Its effects are deadly on every effort of intellect. My scanty means were now alarmingly diminished. Dependence stared me in the face, the thought of which pierced me to the L- 3 49 Even dependence was a precarious resource, as I knew not on whom to depend. Several wealthy relations had more disposition to blame a profusion, which never existed, than to give their aid in diffi- culties, which were impending. A brother had the heart to render every assistance, while his ability was circumscribed. To him, however, I looked with coniidence in his readiness, though without hope in his power. Alas! that brother is now no more. The beauty of his form was almost unequalled. His learning was extensive, and his taste refined. His mind was of the first magnitude, and his heart of the best order. To him I looked then. On him I long relied, till death demolished the distinc- tion between the sublimest beauty and the vilest dust. My thoughts and affections are enshrined in his tomb. With such prospects, I began my third year at college, the twentieth and twenty-first of my age. There was little variety in the course of this pe- riod. Our studies were similar to those of the last session. Plato's Dialogues replaced our former Greek authors. Conic sections claimed our atten- tion in the mathematical department. Fluxions never made a part of our studies. A regular tutor in theology was now established at our head, of whom the less is spoken the better. Our other respectable and learned instructor con- tinned to attempt our improvement, with mortifying r» 50 success. Our cabals increased, and my happiness was diminished. In our squabbles I committed errors, which sufficiently punished themselves. Composition came now to be regularly demanded, but it was attended with no other benefit but that which arose from the habit, and from the public reading of our productions, which might certainly, and pro- bably did in some instances, produce a degree of care and attention. Alas ! no corrections were at- tempted by the instructor, whose department it was to revise what we had written. Whatever solitary judgment we might exercise, it was not cultivated by any direction from superior taste and experience. With what pity and contempt do I call to recol- lection the barbarism, and vulgarity, and nonsense, which were emptied forth from the library tribune on the heads of the rude mob of pretended students, who sat below, to hear without know ledge of gram- mar, to comment without one principle of taste ! Better had it been, perhaps, in some respects, if the neglect of the former years had continued, than that this caricature of oratory and preaching should have been so unblushingly exhibited. What have I heard under the names of sermons and orations ! It is a fact that one read something by way of sermon, which he seemed to have cabbaged from a visitation discourse of one of our ancient dignitaries. Would you believe it? Such was his blindness, that he intro- 51 duced a sentence to this purpose, speaking, I think, of religion: — "This is a dish to he set hef'ore your parishioners of greater worth, &c." My hair stands on end as I state the fact ! When I little expected it, soon after the com- mencement of this year, I was chosen afternoon teacher of a school, set up by the two tutors, in which employment I continued till towards the end of the next. The instruction of youth has been the " bane and antidote" of my life. It has thwarted my stu- dies, and favored my progress in learning. It has retarded, and promoted, my fame. It has produced emolument, and prevented it. It has lessened, and increased, my happiness. These are seeming para- doxes. But, when the reader has reflected on the scantiness of my resources, and the respectability with which I have contrived to live on my double cha- racter of minister and schoolmaster; on the various nature of the studies which are suited to the oue and to the other; and on the different repute which arises from each respectively, my assertions will no longer appear contradictory. To my new employment I devoted myself with an assiduity proportioned to my sense of the season- able supply which it would secure to my resources. The duties required were not new to me, as I had often sustained the whole business of the school which gtve me the knowledge of the rudiments of P 2 52 the Roman and Greek languages; the master of which had other avocations, and committed to me the charge of his pupils. The happiness and the misery of my life hegan, from this period, to he amalgamated together. The expectation of reason- able profit served to balance the irksomeness of a most laborious employment, which I, however, dis- charged with diligence and fidelity, with some cheer- fulness in the hope of support, with ardor in the hope of fame.* * A long course of experience lias now convinced me that diligence, and skill, and ability, are not so conducive either to the emolument or reputation of a Dissenting schoolmaster, as other qualifications of less worth, which are held in greater estimation. It seems to be of the nature of every minor party to seek for its ends by ad- diess and dexterity. They have nothing else left them, as power and numbers are on the contrary side. Without a degree or virtue, which can scarcely be expected in the greater proportion of most communities, this must hap- pen : and, when the disposition is once admitted, it na- turally produces habit, and acquires ascendency in the general cast of character. Its operation will be disco- vered in cases that are unconnected with the party con- test, and will influence the ordinary intercourse of life. On this principle, the skill and management, to use no barsher terms, of the Dissenting character may be ac- counted for. They proceed from their condition as the smaller party, which first prompts the use of occasional exped ents, and at length produces general habit. This principle accounts also for the manoeuvres of Dissenting schoolmasters, who, in the absence of learning, employ such means as will secure repute and consequent success. Indeid, if they had possessed more learning, it would scarcely serve their turn. To appretiate learning, edu- cation is necessary, and those who judge of it must have 53 Before I quitted my academical course, I mn\ be fairly considered as having spent two good years in the business of instruction. By the time 1 had seen twenty-one years and a half, so much time had been thus employed. About four years only, siil«e that time, have been free from the cares of that oc- cupation. I am now forty-four years of age, near!\ the half of which has been thus Most laboriou K and irksomely spent.* The eVeHts which took place during my pedago- gical labors, while my novitiate for the ministry tia requisite qualifications for judgment. A few dniv of the Dissenting community have anjl tolerable cultivation. Their men of wealth may be said to rise from the ranks. If their children should have literary advantages, the influence of fashion and other causes is such, that t/uy frequently desert the body among v\ horn they have been brought up. The few who are able to appretiate the literary repute of tutors, either scorn those who subsisc in their own party, and place their sons elsewhere, or are, by their numbers, able to patronize a few only of then- instructors who merit countenance. It follows therefore, of necessity, that most Dissenting masters must depend on the support of the less educated of the body, and, wiih them, something independent of learning has pre- ference. They mubi be phased, and methods of pleasing them must be adopted. We find, in fact, that effectual methods are adopted which are followed by fame, and honor, and emolument, and every thing. It is apt to raise indignation, although it should do no such thing, to see men who would not make a scholar to the day of doom, by little arts of shew and (lattery, gain the praise of learning, while the really learned live and die totally neglected. * This was written at the beginning of the year 1811. D3 54, ciured, are not worth recording. I could give some detail, to shew that my stipulated remuneration was never received. I was entitled to one third of the profits, which was diminished by items of expense which I considered as not fairly included, and by an omission of arrears in which I thought I had a just interest. But sncli matters are not worth remem- bering. In about a year and three quarters, I re- ceived about seventeen pounds, which helped to carry me forward, without dependence, nearly to the conclusion of my course. This circumstance in my life I have ever consi- dered fortunate in one view, while it probably thwarted my prosperity in another. It led me to consider this employment as my chief resource for life, and qualified ine greatly for its duties, while it withdrew my attention considerably from my mi- nisterial functions, and was the cause of less success as a public instructor. Perhaps neither my fame nor prosperity has been, on the whole, dimi- nished. But both have, certainly, been of a diffe- rent character. My happiness has, doubtless, been of less magnitude, and my peace has been incalcu- lably impaired. 1 quitted the charge both willingly and unwilling- ly. The school never flourished after my resigna- tion, which was accompanied, or soon followed, by that of my respectable tutor, which accounts for the fact. 55 One pupil, who read Greek, and soon became a theologian, left off attending the school, and con- tented himself with receiving my private instruction till the end of my course. I think this stfvne honor; it is at least true. The common condition of mankind is one of compensations. For the advantages which are en- joyed by them many evils must be endured: and yet no evils are without their alleviations. Happy is the man who can secure many blessings with but few inconveniences to lessen their value. The cares of riches, and the frightful ennui of inoccupation, render them less desirable objects. Ingredients, incompatible with each other, must meet, — and they never can meet, — in order to give man a life of un- disturbed tranquillity, of unmixed enjoyment. Ac- tivity of mind must accompany affluence to render it blessed: and how can the mind gain activity, when surrounded with every convenience that gene- rates sloth and indifference ; how can it retain it, when it ceases to be stimulated ?• On the contrary, scanty resources arouse exertion, which fails not to anmse, and often to satisfy. The consciousness of merited applause compensates, in some measure, for the apprehension of future diffi- culties. Different situations in life have not manv respective advantages, on a fair calculation. Yet, if we may judge from universal predilections and anti- pathic, poverty, in the present state of society, D 4 56 must be an evil; and competency, at least, a blessing. In competency are to be found, perhaps, most of the blessings of every condition, with a smaller number of the ust$al inconveniences which befal mankind. Affluence has great advantages and disadvantages. Never was there a more reasonable prayer, in every view, than that of Agur, " Give me neither po- verty nor riches, but feed me with food convenient for me." My accession of means of creditable support only- changed the nature of the evils of my life, at this time. The anxiety, attending an irksome occupa- tion, replaced that which arose from apprehension of difficulties or of dependence. The want of autho- rity increased it to an insufferable degree. When any thing which appears unsupportable takes place, we ever wish to alter the course of our lives, little reflecting that change will not remove our infelicity if we can but escape that which, for the present, oppresses us. We know that now we are unhappy, and hope, against hope, that another mode of pro- longing existence, may make existence worth de- siring. After about a year and a half spent as afternoon- teacher of this school, I quitted it to have more leisure for study and amusement, and to avoid suf- fering and mortification. Much did not seem to be now wanting to carry me to the end of my prepa- ratory career. My hope was not much disappoint- 57 ed. I left my college without having experienced want of any thing that my ceconomical plan re- quired, but I left it in debt, amounting, in all, to nearly ten pounds. This so fortunate escape, however, entailed upon me much subsequent difficulty. Although I was not applied to for payment, owing to the liberality of my creditors, the debt was to be paid with interest, and it was long before I found means, out of my scanty earnings, to satisfy my honor, and to cancel the demand. Such circumstances may appear almost incredible. But I appeal to one half of my brother ministers, if they have not found a debt of ten pounds,, con- tracted during their education, a weight which has continued to oppress them for years. In my case, ho want of ceconomy ever prevented me from sa- tisfying every claim. Such is the scanty provision made for our ministers, that no saving is ever prac- ticable in any situation, without sonic income besides that which arises from their professional engage- ments. Little preference is to be given to any local settlement. It is nearly immaterial whether the salary be 40/. or 150/. per annum, and these are about the extremes of our receipts. Privacy and oeconomy are necessary in both, and the degree of each will be regulated by public expectation, u hiVh brings all nearly on a level. A sort of habit of pinching their ministers pervades the body of Pres- D 5 58 byterians, whose want of liberality, in this respect, is as conspicuous as the exercise of it is in other in- stances. In this no sect of religionists can bear a comparison with them. If a congregation of them finds itself in a capacity to raise 200/. per annum, from whatever sources, it instantly thinks of re- taining two ministers. What would be a small pro- vision for one is divided, and two arc invited to starve on their ostentatious penuriousness. If the minister is content, they will even present him with fifty pounds a year, under every change arising from increased wealth or multiplied numbers. Additional subscribers serve only to ease the amount of original subscriptions, and any discontent with such conduct would cost the poor pastor his situation. Sources of complaint would soon be found out, which would not be quieted but by the appointment of a suc- cessor, to whom, however, a more liberal offer must be made, and yet such only, as might merely pro- cure his acceptance. I speak truth, and appeal to my fellow ministers for its confirmation, with con- fident expectation of the concurrence of the liberal among the laity. Our sermons and orations were generally designed to suuport our party doctrines and party quarrels. Their stupidity was only equalled by their malig- nancy. It is not long since I chanced to meet with an oration of my own, of most humble manufacture, though of ingenious plan. It attempted to draw a 59 parallel and a contrast between Popish and Cal- vinistic infallibility, giving the preference greatly to the former. My wonder cannot be effectually ex- pressed, when I consider its merits and its effects. Of the former it had little, and that little was ba- lanced by a thousand egregious faults. Yet it silenced the party declamations, as it was felt to surpass every thing which could be brought in hos- tility against it. Such was the condition of our academical proficiency in the important department of composition. That such a thing should be crowned, by the consent of friend* and foes, with victory! Alas! how humbling is such a victory! But what can be said of the defeat? Both mark, with indelible disgrace, a place of education where either could occur. Of all the students of these two years, I recollect not more than one who has done the least credit to the institution, and that one has devoted his fine talents long ago to the service of mammon. The rest have either forfeited all claim to esteem, for want of good morals, or are now dragging on a miserable existence in the humblest stations among their brethren. They have brought a lasting dis- repute on . the seminary which pretended to foster their talents, so that it is a sufficient reason to sus- pect a man's adequacy for ministerial engagements, to know that his education was there conducted. d6 60 The evil must be traced to deficient management, to imperfect plan, and to despicable tuition. Our respectable tutor, however, must be rescued from all suspicion. Under such management, and on such a plan, all his labors must have proved nuga- tory. Let others answer for themselves. I expect their hostility, but cannot help it. Here I close my account of the third year of my irksome course at this seminary. I review it without satisfaction, although it effected some improvement in the progress of my mind. Oh ! that I had spent it under more favorable auspices ! The tediousness of these details may be compen- sated by the useful improvements which they may suggest. If the body to which I am attached should be brought to adopt measures conducive to their respectability, by such or other means, they may be thankful to those who solicit their attention, % and pardon me for stating offensive truths, by which, however, offence is not designed. Had I a less respect for this illustrious band of Christians and patriots, I would not trouble them with observations which can render me no service, and which contem- plate their advantage only. 61 CHAPTER V. Commencement of Preaching, during' the last Year of my academical Course. The period of education, for whatever calling or profession, is certainly a most important one. But its importance arises from its conduciveness to the success, and happiness, and usefulness, of that line of life to which it is preparatory. The calling or profession itself must embrace a still higher interest, and the account of it should obtain a deeper atten- tion. I am about to introduce the reader to the commencement of my professional labors, without dismissing yet the course of my preparatory studies. In the fourth year, according to our plan, we were admitted into the pulpit, and had leave to lend our assistance, where it might be wanted within a con- venient distance. The plan of education had undergone no alte- ration. The tutors were the same, during my fourth year, as during the two preceding ones. I do not remember that a book was added to our library, which consisted of a considerable number of vo- lumes. We saw none of the literary journals Lut by chance. During the fourth year we were called Divinity Students, because we now commenced preachers. And this was all the alteration in our condition. 62 Nothing was done to qualify the young men for the pulpit. Readings, in Doddridge, in the usual un- profitable way, constituted all the theological in- struction. Neither eloquence nor elocution were otherwise cultivated than as solitary taste might in- duce every individual to apply to them, of which there were very few examples. Having mentioned our library, I must do it justice by observing that it contained the stamina of a good one, especially in Divinity. Former donations had greatly enriched it, and it had received additions frequently till about the year 17S4. From that time till I left it, it remained in statu quo. While it had a sufficient number of authors in divinity, it wanted many good works. If the same inattention to it should continue, all modern discoveries in theology must be inevitably unknown to the young candidates, and the number of volumes from various casualties will as inevitably diminish. While every town in the island is forming Book Societies, and establishing libraries, this seminary will be taking a retrograde course, ?ud its cultivation will be in an inverse ratio to that of the community. Of classical books there was a most lamentable deficiency. There does not appear to have ever been any ambition to enrich it with these treasures; any attempt to furnish it with them. No edition, of re- pute, of one ancient author was, I think, to be found in it. Not one copy of the Greek Testament do I 63 remember, but the common ones. My memory may fail me, and I should be glad to find myself wrong. Mill was there, and, it is possible, there might be something better. There was a small and impaired philosophical ap- paratus : an air pump, an orrery, a pair of Senex's globes, a telescope, a microscope, an electrifying machine; all out of order. At some former time, something had been expended on such necessary objects. But the spirit had evaporated. If these were repaired or exchanged, and a few articles added, enough would be found for every purpose of minis- terial education, if they were diligently used. Much science may be dispensed with, in a course of educa- tion of this nature. It may be the object of subse- quent acquisition. If our young men were rendered good scholars and mathematicians, good historians and divines, it would suffice; and these studies would fully occupy four or five years spent at college. What shall we say of the almost total neglect of them ? The increase of books and instruments depended on the forfeitures of the pupils for non-attendance on the lectures, in which they took no interest. But, as their finances were low, this source had little effect. Surely a reformation of management and plan is be- come absolutely necessary, or the institution must sink into utter contempt. During much of this year I travelled, once a month, to supply congregations, ouce under the pastoral care of my father. I had to travel, on the Saturday, fifty- miles on horseback; to ride from fifteen to twenty on the Sunday and Monday; to remain with my friends for the week; to repeat, on the following Sunday, the journey of the preceding; and to return on the second Monday from my setting out. My horse cost me half-a-guinea, my expenses amounted to about the same sum. For this trouble, and to defray this ex- pense, I was paid seven shillings, or seven and sixpence, each Sunday. My friends found my maintenance in the interval. Of course, this was a ruinous specula- tion. I should have felt the result affecting my finances seriously; but the different societies contributed something towards my indemnification, and I return- ed, generally, about five shillings richer for my ex- pedition, if wear and tear be taken out of the calcu- lation. This engagement had nearly entangled me with these good people, who were very desirous to engage my constant services on my removal from college. I had stipulated with their minister that no presump- tion should be cherished respecting my intentions of becoming his colleague, because I thus occasionally supplied them. At the same time, I had promised not to form any irrevocable determination to refuse their invitation, before hand, if they should eventu- ally give me one. At no time did I give them or him any further hope, but always expressed that the probability was much against my settlement yith them. They begged that they might be allowed an opportunity, by marks of kindness, to diminish that probability; and to produce, if possible, a determina- tion in their favor. The year went on under these circumstances. But, when it was concluded, instead of leaving me room for gratitude for uncommon civilities, I was openly told, by the minister with whom I had so stipulated, that my services had given the people encouragement, and that, if I did not mean to meet their wishes, I ought to have declined supplying them. The civilities shewn me, and the aid given towards defraying my expenses, were con- strued into a tacit engagement with them for future services. Reference to our original arrangement was ineffectual, and, when I finally took my leave, much clamor and oblocpiy were raised against me. — Of such instances of duplicity, I have a long catalogue to record. — My health and taste led me to look else- where. At this moment, I am in doubt what might have been the determination most conducive to my prosperity and happiness. It is probable, however, that, whatever evils I may have since endured, my settlement there would have left regret in my mind, and this would have been sufficient to embitter my future days, unless I could have effectually reconciled myself to my lot in process of time. I retain no rc- .-entmeut for the ungenerous advantage taken of my assistance, which was accorded from friendship, and with much inconvenience. The eagerness to retiiu 66 me, oo the part of the society, was too flattering a complement, to myself and to my family, to be re- collected with animosity. I am now come to the end of my academical course. Some reflections may be allowed, before I proceed farther with the account of my life. 1, The reader must observe a lamentable defici- ency of instruction during the course of my studies. The evil is too general among our sect, and arises from a radical defect in our management. Sufficient provision is not made for professors. Men of real abilities and erudition will not accept of situations so circumstanced. Such must be retained, to whom it is convenient, from other causes, to accept the em- ploy. Ministerial occupations are necessary as aids in order to subsist : on which account our tutors and our seminaries are seldom even stationary. A reform must take place, or our reputation for learning and science must fade for ever. Let a proper situation, with all just attention to economy, be first provided, and let the next object be, to secure sufficient funds for the handsome maintenance of a competent num- ber of tutors of good literature and manners. Let there be no ministerial labor attached to a professor- ship, but such as regards a college-chapel, for the accommodation of the seminary. Let no ministerial jealousies, of the superior learning of adequate in- structors, be employed to keep them in the shade, and to condemn thew to obscurity. Then, and not 67 till then, our institutions will answer their purpose, and be creditable to our learning and reputation. 2. The plan of education should be simplified. If something should be sacrificed to polished manners, which are now entirely overlooked; if gentlemanly and palacstric exercises should be somewhat encoura- ged, as things which cannot afterwards be cultivated ; no encouragement should be given to literary or scienti- fic pursuits of secondary value. Such should be left to the taste and choice of individuals, but never made the objects of academical education. A few things alone should enter into our plans. 1. The classics; the classics without end. 2. The mathematics; and the mathematics over and over. 3. Astronomy and philosophy. 4. Theology; to which every thing should be subservient. The last may be partly, but not altogether, dispensed with, in lay education, which is generally short and scanty among this people. Bring your views to a focus. Concentrate your efforts. You will have eminent men, in this way, for those things which are of most importance; while smaller objects will of themselves come to be acquired. In our present methods, no eminence can ever be at- tained. 3. From my observations may be deduced the in- ference, that our young candidates are lamentably deficient in previous suitableness for academical stu- dies. To this, principally, may be traced their con- tempt for learning, and most culpable iadiligencc Not one half of those whom I saw could translate the plainest Latin, or understand the simplest princi- ples of grammar. They found some alleviation of their illiteracy, which it was too late to remove, in a sturdy denial of the advantage of literary acquire- ments. This is a point that should be thoroughly reformed. Our resources are thus ignomiuiously wasted. The honor of academical preparation is ac- quired by such as are still mere laymen, and who ought to continue lay preachers, if they must preach, while those who are of more worthy character have that honor diminished, by being so participated. Our seminaries are disgraced, and our body aud ouv ministry become objects of obloquy and contempt. Let no candidate for the ministry be admitted whose previous learning is not unequivocal. Shut your doors on all but those who may fairly promise to adorn your institutions. 4. Let there be regular, literary, and scientific, de- grees conferred at our colleges. These, not being countenanced by law, will not be of much value, except, at the place of education, aud among our own body, though they will give some credit to those who obtain them, in the estimation of the world. If they are rigidly withheld from the undeserving, they will excite emulation and serve to discriminate the pretensions of the worthy and unworthy, when they mix with mankind. At the end of the third year, let the approved students become B.A.; at the eud 69 of the fourth, M.A.; but let no one take a degree who has been unable to obtain his B. A. at the end of the third year, except in extraordinary cases, where superior diligence has been observed to wipe off tire disgrace attached to having been plucked, when the first degree may be accorded at the end of the fourfh or fifth year, but no further honor should be in that case conceded on any account. This should be an affair of great solemnity and exactness, and extraor- dinary inadequacy should be punished, at the end of the third year, with expulsion. In time, these de- grees may come to be sanctioned by the legislature, even if it should demur at first. Perhaps, even at the commencement, that favor may be obtained, and surely application should be made forthwith for that purpose. It is the policy of wise governments to en- courage the spirit of science and literature, even in sectaries. Such are the best means of checking the progress of enthusiasm and irregular dissent. But let them deal impartially, and, with proper restriction*, accord such honors to all sects as soon as they seek them. Let there be some check on all, that they may not bestow degrees on the undeserving. These academi- cal distinctions are scarcely useful, but as the encou- ragement and reward of study and merit. Honorary degrees must ever be of dubious repute, and should be sought elsewhere. 5. The scanty provision, made for students, is also much to be lamented. Besides the misery which it 1 TO entails on generous minds, it damps all ardor iu lu terary proficiency. I feel too painfully the recol- lection of this evil to be able to speak of it with sufficient composure. Alas ! what do our youth en- dure on this account? Have mercy on thein, ye men of liberal spirit, and rescue, into credit and comfort, your future ministers. I recommend them earnestly to your patronage, on which they have, of right, an undoubted claim. 6. Nearly connected with the last article, is a recommendation which I will venture to hazard to the reflection of my fellow Dissenters. The legislature, with generous liberality, grants assistance to the Irish Catholics towards the educa- tion of their priesthood. The same consideration would be extended, without doubt, to the Protestant Dissenters, if respectfully requested. The same reasons support both cases. It is of importance that the people, however distinguished by peculiar opinions, should be well instructed, and that their ministers should be well qualified for their occupa- tion. It is thus that ministerial illiteracy and scan- dalous preaching are to be eradicated. Besides, this part of the community is deprived of the ad- vantage of education at the Universities. Perhaps it would be vain to expect the doors of these to be thrown open for the admission of every sect. They would scarcely acquiesce in our participation of their en- dowments. But they would view, without envy, 7i a boon which could not injure them, while it would accommodate and benefit us beyond calculation, Surely the experiment ought to be tried, which would trench very little on the resources of a wealthy nation, to which we contribute our full share. Having to sustain our own clergy, our means are not sufficient for their honorable educa- tion. Let us cast ourselves on the generosity of our country, and accept such aid as it may, in its wisdom, grant. It seems as if all other schemes would be inadequate to secure our respectability and honor. This, under proper regulations, would be efficient to remove our disgrace, and the public objection and contempt. 7. Care should be employed towards obtaining, for our institutions, an adequate supply of proper philosophical instruments and books. There is every-where a lamentable deficiency in this respect, which is a radical and fatal deficiency. A good library is itself a stimulus to diligence. Without it, little can be done by every attention of our tutors, and all the ardor of our youth. Much might be done, by those who wish for improvement, without instructors, if books, and other means of study, were provided. Little can be done without them, under any circumstances. In every prospectus of a seminary among us, and in every account of the re- sources attached to them, I see no fund for this purpose, which should be secured in the very first 72 instance* Of tins our predecessors were aware, and books were accumulated in their days. Does the progress of improvement stand stiil with us alone? The increase of books, in our seminaries at this day, should bear some proportion to their increase in general, which is far from being the case. In an especial manner, let there be an accumulation of Classical, Mathematical, and Theological Works. The first, especially, should claim our attention, be- cause of their importance, and because of their paucity, at present, in our institutions. I have adverted to many objects of consideration, and our means may be inadequate to the acquisition of all. Increased exertion and additional sacrifices must be made if they are to be attained. Yet, let us not shrink from our duty ; let us adopt as many of the regulations suggested as may be practicable, leaving others to be secured by our successors. Let us approximate to perfection ; much may be done, with respect to all, by earnestness and zeal. To state projects, although chimerical, is not al- ways without its use. It may furnish us with an apprehension of what is desirable, if it does no more. It may give us an idea of perfection, if it should not be, at present, attainable. It may sti- mulate to exertions, which mav prove successful in a degree, if not to the degree which we wish. My projects appear feasible, and need conviction and effort only to be carried into effect. 73 I now bid farcwel to the place of my education for the ministry. It has afforded me much pain and pleasure. It has given me many advantages, though not so many as I ought to have received. The reader has probably experienced a similar mixture of pain and pleasure, of advantage and disappoint- ment, in perusing, as I have in writing, my account of the four years of which the course consisted, and may be equally ready to pause at their conclusion, as I am. Let him, however, be forewarned that I have not in reserve any better supply of amusement or instruction, in the memoirs of my future years. He will soon have an opportunity of judging for himself. It may possibly appear to some of the readers of this work that, in my preceding and in my following reflections, I have falleu into a tone of censure which might have been well spared. A re-perusal of what I have written suggests to me that such may be the feeling excited, even in persons who are not disposed to misconceive me. I can safely declare that I am actuated by compassion towards misfortune and un- happiness, and not by a spirit of unjust reproof. It is true, I see error, but I do not discover intentional fault, in the people with whom I am connected. Besides, I must beg to be allowed to say, that my sentence against them is not to be applied too largelv. It should be divested of much of the generality which I may seem, in some places, to have given to it. My E 74 observations have arisen from the acquaintance with the people which I have personally enjoyed, and that acquaintance must be necessarily circumscribed. It is evident also that I must hitherto have contem- plated, principally, the district in which my education was conducted. Other parts, under very different circumstances, can be only partially and accidentally concerned. Lastly, large exceptions must be made in favor of numerous individuals in so considerable a body, who, at all times, are excluded from the reproof that applies to the community. To praise does, most certainly, give me far more pleasure than to reprehend. Gladly do I bear testi- mony to the worth of the dissenters in general, with- out seeing any inconsistency, in this declaration, with the remarks contained in this book. There is as much excellence to be found among them as among any religious' denomination. They have, in their number, men of superior and illustrious merit. Their ministers are often learned, and generally intelligent. As men, they are the best, far the best, that I have met with. They are the best friends and companions in the wide creation. 75 CHAPTER VI. From the Conclusion of my Academical Studies to my Settlement as a Minister. The interval between my release from the semi- nary, and my settlement as a minister, consisted of somewhat less than two months. Yet, during so short a period, I had to endure much pain, and anxiety, and mortification. In consequence of an unfortunate entanglement, which is not mentioned for good reasons; of the journeys above noticed, in the depth of winter; of attention to the business of school; and of somewhat excessive study, which a consciousness of the defects of education produced, my health was alarmingly impaired. The blood, one while, would gush out at my nostrils; at another, all the symptoms of a dysentery appeared; and, for a considerable time, the vitiated state of my habit shewed itself in violent inflammation of the eyes. At last, a settled dyspnoea ensued, the symptoms of which will remain with me, and probably carry me to the grave. I felt much external soreness of the chest, which continued down, at the termination of the ribs on the right side, to the back bone. In tlii- condition, I removed to the house of a relation at Bristol, and drank the waters of the Hot-wells. From this relation I experienced much unkindness, and had reason to repent that I had received the E 2 76 obligations of a hospitality which was grudgingly bestowed. My spirits failed, and the entrance of any one, into the room in which I sat, rendered me unable to speak. I mention these circumstances because they form a part of my life, some of the incidents of which I have undertaken to give to the world, and because they give me an opportunity of recording the benevolent attentions of a friend whom I unexpectedly gained at this place. This was the late revered Doctor Wright, a physician of great practice, and of unbounded humanity. This gentleman deeply sympathised with me in my suffering, without pretending to understand my complaint, which has never been explained to me. His attendance on me was assiduous, for which he would accept no fee. To lessen my expense, he obtained my medicine from a druggist, which, how- ever, produced no alleviation of my disorder. He made me welcome at his house, where I often shared his hospitality. He carried me almost daily, in his chariot, to the Wells, where he had many patients. His carriage stopped at my door in going and coming, because he saw that walking did me injury, as it has done on all occasions ever since, although I have, for many years, enjoyed what is called high health. His friendly attentions and ef- fectual assistance followed me after I removed from under his paternal inspection. Indeed, he was to me as a father. Many, besides me, experienced the 77 fostering care and assiduity of this best of men, and most humane and skilful of physicians. As a dernier resort, after confessing that l»e did not understand my complaint, and could render me no assistance, he directed a surgeon to hleed me. Almost instant relief was the effect. The operation was repeated again and again, with equal success. My health was placed, iu a short time, on the foot- ing which has continued, with little variation, ever since. I was not quite twenty-two years of age, and an unvitiated constitution aided to restore me, as far as a rooted malady would admit. I may describe my case imperfectly. In fact, I never could give an intelligible account of it to Dr. Wright. Can the faculty, at this distance of time, compre- hend its nature, or derive any information from the description which I have given ? At the time, my fancy impressed on me a conviction, that I should die of a rupture, or opening, at the end of the long ribs, near the pit of the stomach, at which place I imagined that there was a collection of matter form- ed, which would force itself out, and which I at- tributed to leaning on my desk. My fancv pro- duced one effect, and induced me never after to support myself against any thing before me in my studies. As I am anonymous to the reader, although I may not continue unknown, I do not allow myself to name those who have contributed to any of my mis- E3 78 fortunes. The same reason, however, does not pre- vent me from giving the names of my benefactors, \>hen I think that the occasion requires it. My testimony may do them but litfie good, yet it can do them no injury. Due praise may be recorded by an unknown name. Accusation should be authentica- ted, because, without such support, pity, and even a sense of honor, may acquit the guilty, and ward off deserved chastisement. On this account, I readily mention the Reverend Mr. Wright, among those who shewed me kindness during my stay at Bristol. He had the reputation of maintaining some stateliness towards his brother ministers, who accused him of acting the high priest. Perhaps my pretensions were too slender to make his superiority equivocal ; but, more probably, the accusation was founded in misapprehension of his character. To me he shewed nothing but affability, which I owed, perhaps, in some measure, to his vc. neration for the name of my deceased father. -He was a very able preacher, and gifted, in prayer, be- yond any of our ministers with whom it has ever been my lot to be acquainted. He was certainly a very able theologian, and had no reason to yield To his excellent brother in this respect, who was as well versed in divinity as in medicine. These were, in truth, and in the. most respectable sense, par nobih fralrum. Of them I would say, " may I die their death, and may my last end be like theirs." They 79 were equally good and great, and have left few of equal excellence and fame in our churches. While I continued at this place, the uukindness of my relation induced me to wish ardently for the restoration of my health, not only for the sake of the good which health comprehends, but for the sake of escaping from his grudging hospitality. This might have given an elasticity to my frame, favorable to an event so desirable ; but it was counteracted by the small hope which my disordered spirits led me to entertain of any settlement. Harrassed by distaste of my present mode of existence, and hopelessness of a speedy change, I met a stranger, one morning, on the draw-bridge, over which we were both look- ing on the river and shipping. By chance, we fell into discourse, and were interested. Some degree of confidence was imperceptibly inspired ; we exchanged addresses ; of him I had no previous knowledge ; his name I had heard ; with my name and family he was familiar ; he had well known my father ; of my destination he had previously endeavoured to gain some information, and had been told of my present residence. It was his intention to find me out be- fore chance brought us together. His friendly con- cern for mc led him to be inquisitive respecting my prospects. I hud no secrets. All my mind was soon disclosed to hiin. The very situation, which he had in his view for me, before he knew me, was still unoccupied. He offered his service to pro- £4 80 cure my introduction into it, which I gratefnlly ac- cepted. His recommendation was favorable. In a short time I had an invitation to preach to a Society at — — — . My arrangements were few and speedily made. I quitted Bristol, much recovered in health and spirits. Reader, do you wish to know the name of the man who thus gave mc his hand to conduct me over the threshold of life ? He has been long num- bered among the dead. His memory remains en- graven on my heart, and in the recollection and esteem of many more. His name shall be recorded in these pages, which, however, will not long pre- serve the characters of which they speak. He was the Rev. Nat. Philipps, of Derby. My journey was through Worcester, in the begin- ning of August, 1788, which was filled with the King and his court. It was my good luck to see, for the first and last time, our puissant monarch, George the Third, who was soon attacked by that malady which has since secretly and publicly so often visited him. This was to me no very cheering journey. My destiny was perfectly new to me. The people, among whom I at last arrived, were literally un- known to me, even by name. None of the circum- stances of the situation had been disclosed to me. In due time, without any incidents on the road worth recording, except as above excepted, I arrived at the place to which I was bound. It was deserted b} the people, who had proceeded to different places 81 to Lave a view of " majesty." The master and mistress of the family, to whom I had been recom- mended, were of the number. The town was at all times dull, with little business. The grass ap- peared, in one of the wider streets, green among the stones. However, I was received as a person ex- pected by the domestics, and was entertained as well as I could expect. Although 1 arrived on ap- probation only, the event was my settlement as pas- tor of a congregation of Protestant Dissenters. Before 1 enter upon the detail of my life here, it may be right to make the reader a little better ac- quainted with the state of my mind, and the com- plexion of my character. I was in my twenty second year. The frugality, with which I had spent the last four years, fitted me for a residence among a very plain and rustic people, although the studies which I had been pursuing made their undescribable ignorance exceedingly irk- some. My vivacity had not been much checked by my difficulties, and was now even increased by the dreams of usefulness which floated before my eyes, and by the prospect of an independence, which ap- peared to me ample. Forty pounds a year seemed fully adequate to my wants and wishes, while I little dreamed that, out of this sum, I could scarcely afford one shilling to purchase a book, however ne- cessary to my professional occupation ! ! My books consisted of little more than a Cou- E 5 82 cordance and a Greek Testament, with a very few which had served ine in my preparatory course. No supply could be procured within the sphere of my acquaintance, and, indeed, the place was altoge- ther free from the vice of reading and literature, although there was a small book club, of which I soon hecame a member! For some time I did not perceive the deficiency, in any great measure, as I was forced to bend all my efforts on pulpit composi- tions, of which I had but about fifteen specimens, long ago consigned to the flames. For some time I had no acquaintance and sought none : my spirits were, however, buoyant, and carried me through a period which, in other circumstances, would have been in- tolerable. I thank God, I have ever found strength sufficient for the day. My religious opinions had undergone no material change since the days of my youth, when I listened to the controversial argumentations of my uncle. My morals were altogether pure. The effect of a re- ligious education, on the last, has never failed. My views of religious doctrine were soon, however, to undergo a total revolution. At this time, I honestly maintained, on the question of man's accountableness, the side of the Libertarians. On the person of Christ, I embraced the views of the moderately high Arians. On infant baptism, I entertained no serious doubts. The ministerial character appeared to me very im- portant, as several of my family had sustained it, 83 which could not fail to make a deep impression. W itliout many qualifications for my profession, I had an ardent zeal for the interest of religion, which was afterwards crowned with considerable success. My inexperience led me to expect much greater, and, like Melancthon, I dreamed that the world, the flesh, and the devil, would be no match for me. Like Melancthon, I found, eventually, that one of them, in some shape or other, was too hard for the sanguine preacher. . My taste for literature was now decided, by the reputation that its supposed existence gave me here, which excited my vanity in no ordinary degree. Yet, no progress whatever was made in it during my stay in this place, on account of my laborious task of composition, and the hard duties which my zeal im- posed on me. But the predilection was of great ad- vantage, as it produced, in after times, some degree of, perhaps, successful application. In politics I was a Foxite, and utterly disapproved of the Regency Bill of that day, not so much from an understanding of the question, as from abhorrence of the base spirit of chicane and perfidy which dic- tated it, and appeared to me, at all times, to actuate that party. Being of a frank and open disposition, I had an enthusiasm of admiration for Mr. Fox, which has never abated ; and a chivalrous attachment to the Prince of Wales, in whom I have ever been most ready to pardon every defect, while his generous k6 84 virtues have always interested my affections and my understanding. Before that time, I had thought hut little about him; ever since, I have stood forth, not only as his defender from calumny, but as his zealous panegyrist. And now, in my more mature jears, when youthful vivacity does not lead captive my ima- gination, I prefer the generous and splendid taste of this Prince, to a more calculating and nigardly pru- dence, which ill befits a throne, and which, by gene- rating selfishness, preys more deeply on the happiness and resources of a nation in order to satisfy private avarice, than a spirited display of taste, which pro- motes ingenuity, and leaves the heart susceptible to the emotions of humanity towards a suffering people. Yes, generous Prince, thou art the object of my en- thusiastic attachment, in youth, and in mature years. May God grant thee an opportunity of restoring peace and happiness to thy country, which bleeds at every pore. My station is too humble to lend any aid to the interest of thy government. But thou wilt not have one subject more devoted than the writer of these pages, who cannot be suspected of flattery, because he is heyond thy power of remune- ration, which is, doubtless, great, and will he as ge- nerously exercised.* * Tliis ardent eulogidm on the Prince of Wales "as written hi the beginning of the year 1811, when the whole of tHis work was drawn up. Now, in the end of the year 1U1'2, I leave it unaltered, although I think some explana- 85 CHAPTER VII. Commencement of my Ministerial Function. On my arrival, I found that the people had been long in a state of confusion, from dispute with their tiou has become necessary. If I thought that the Prince, become the unrestricted Regent of the United Kingdom, has adopted principles of government hostile to those which ever actuated the most enlightened statesman and most benevolent man," take him for all in all," that this or any other country has produced; if I thought that he has can- celled any of his promises or pledges, or disappointed the expectations, which he had once made or excited, I should be most decidedly for erasing the praises bestowed upon him in the above sentences. It would be impossible for me to retain my esteem for him on account of political sentiments no longer preserved, although my opinion of personal qualities that once excited my approbation would remain undiminished as long as they continued uneffaced. The complexion of politics has strangely varied. It is not easy, under present circumstances, to consider the opposition of this day, as actuated by the generous principles which rendered their deceased leader so unrivalled in fame, and so powerful in his ascendency over my understanding and affections. To understand the opposition, as it is called, is now become a difficult task. It is made up of pans not a little heterogeneous, rf it really consists of Lord Holland and Mr. Whitbread on one side, and of Lord Grenville and Lord Ellenborough on the other. It is, however, certain, that the position of the Regent is unfor- tunate, to say the least, to lie in the hands of the Liverpools, and Eldons, and Castlereaghs,and Ryders. But I will still presume that the prince is unfortunate only. lie has given no proof of dereliction of former principles. He has only not acted upon them, which, perhaps, hns not pro- ptily been in his power. Until I have proof of change, I give him my confidence, and abide by the opinions ex- pressed in the text. former minister, who still lived on the spot. The occasion is unknown to me. It was probably similar to others which continually occur in our societies, where the factious dispositions of popular assemblies are ever at work, and render the life of a minister so irksome and so precarious. This is an evil arising from the noble privilege which we enjoy, of choosing our own pastors. Few advantages are secure against abuse. Few are more abused than this advantage. The people were indifferent, and lately much scattered by the establishment of a society of Hun- tingdonian Methodists. The expectation of a new minister, on probation, brought together scarcely forty persons. The late minister was not of the number. This threw a damp on my spirits, for the first time. Had matters continued thus, it is proba- ble I should soon have taken wing. The spirits of the people were unquestionably bad and bitter. The mutual dislike of the quondam mi- nister and flock was such, as rendered all reconcilia- tion impracticable. My disposition would have led me to attempt it, at whatever hazard to myself, had it not been hopeless. Without experience, without guidance, and without advice, I resolved to conciliate the absentees to the interest, and to obtain the neutrality at least of the late pastor. Both attempts were attended with suc- cess. Most of the congregation rt turned by degrees. The pastor a'tei.dcd the public ser\ice, and coinniu- bleated with the society. My visits to him excited jealousy in those who were hostile to him, hut they hecame frequent. Seldom a day passed, eventually, in which I did not call upon him. He was a man of ▼ery decent manners, with too much of the courtliness, to use no other word, of the ministers of the last age. He had some knowledge, and a great deal of anec- dote; and he had, what I could find no where else, a considerable library of useful books, which he lent me under strict conditions. I had a respect for him, and more pity than respect. His case was undoubt- edly hard, and he was rather advanced in life. Of the first I have an imperfect idea, of the last a com- plete recollection. The effect of early instruction had been impressed on my mind by reading and observation. I thought that I foresaw, in our younger people, a future re- spectable congregation. Their parents were, without question, beyond all amendment. Much complaint could not be made against their morals. But their knowledge was small beyond conception. Their occupations were not very respectable, but their wealth was considerable. My resolution was formed, to attend to the instruction of the young, with whom I took incredible pains, for I had to teach them to read the Scriptures, when I lectured them on their contents. About forty were mustered, in three bodies, comprising lisping children, and youths of eighteen years of age. To the first, I gave plain 3 83 catechisms; to the last, the Bible, with occasional lectures on various subjects, which many were in- duced to transcribe. The effect of this attention to the children of the society was, increased civility from their parents, and a more constant attendance on the public service. Those things, which are themselves effects, become causes of others, and a constant succession of occur- rences is thus produced. The attentive presence of the congregation was followed by the visits of others to our place of worship. That induced me to attempt an evening service, which succeeded to draw together a congregation of occasional attendants, but from which no material good appeared to ensue. On the subject of evening services, I will trouble the reader with a few reflections. 1. I do not hesitate to condemn my own under- taking. By it I was forced to attend less carefully to the instruction of the younger people, on which much, very much, depended. With three services a day to conduct, how was it possible to examine forty young persons and children, most of whom had not leisure to meet me, except on the first day in the week? Besides this, the labor was almost intolerable. That which should have been a work of delight and pleasure, was thus rendered most irksome and tedious. It was well that it did not produce a fatal effect on my health, so Tately res- tored. To crown the whole, the business of prepa- 89 ration for three services, when I had no stock of compositions, and had little skill in writing, must have rendered my ministrations far less respectable to myself, and less edifying to the people. In fact, I was obliged to read over again sermons that wc rt but lately delivered before, and to speak almost extempore in the evening lecture, for which I was very ill qualified. However, my services gave con- siderable satisfaction to all but myself. In no long time, I discontinued the evening congregation for the reasons already stated, and would seriously ad- vise young ministers never to make such an attempt, from conviction that, in their hands, it must be at- tended with little good, and much evil. 2. To evening services, in general, I have strong objections, though, in particular cases, they may be desirable and useful. It has come to my knowledge that they give opportunities for much irregular and immoral conduct. They lahor under many of the inconveniences attending our theatrical representa- tions, which are exhibited, in modern times, at a late hour. This has ever appeared to me the most valid objection to such exhibitions, which, under pro- per regulations, might be productive of some ad- vantage. War and luxury have tended to corrupt the morals of our common people. But I attribute, without hesitation, much of the debased and aban- doned morals of the lower order of the people to 90 the evening meetings among our religionists, the prevalence of which is exactly coeval with the in- creased corruption of our countrymen. On this account, I deprecate the enthusiasm which has for half a century prevailed, and hy which our national character has heen perceptibly deteriorated. Signs of increased wickedness are evident. All the signs of reformation are, at least, doubtful. Some in- dividual good may have been done. The general corruption is unequivocal. When the phenomena are concomitant, it is fair to suspect their mutual influence, and the reason of the thing, in this case, -corroborates the conclusion. No time can be so usefully employed as that which is given to domestic instruction. For this the inferior ranks have no other time, but the Lord's day, which they can effectually employ. But it is on our servants that the worst effect is produced by its neglect. Favorable occasions for debauchery arc ottered them by the too common custom of giving them the Sunday evening, under pretence of attending public worship. While they have this resource, how- ever inadequate, their employers are less scrupulous about detaining tliem at home all day in domestic occupations. Luxurious dinners have ensued in our houses, which formerly contented themselves with more frugal preparations. The attendance of families, on public worship, has become less regular, and the attendance of servants has been either dis- continued, though they pretend to avail themselves of opportunities in the evening, or gives occasion for much mischief. Besides this, the domestic advice, which was formerly given in every cre- ditable house, and which would be attended with more effect than sermons, must necessarily be given up, because the servants are not present ; and, if they should be present, it is received with con- tempt, because these servants have been taught, at these opportunities, as they are called, to scorn every thing that does not proceed from those tvho have experienced the work of grace. It is a fact, within my knowledge, that many heads of houses are quite discouraged from advising and rebuking, because they see that their lessons are received scof- fingly by their conceitedly-sanctified domestics, who look upon such lectures as of no value, because they esteem them legal. The mischief of such a state of things is incalculable. In what view soever we take these evening opportunities, they are of evil effect. But their chief mischief is, that they preclude domestic instruction, if to be attended by families, or render it ineffectual where it may be given. Surely nothing can be substituted for family religion. The public morals are incalculably injured by its np«lect. Better far would it be to have no public worship, than to have no family religion. Family religion is the soul of morality, the vital spring of good manners and of serious piety, { 92 offer these observations to those who do not en- courage our evening religious parties, and to those who do. They may induce the one more earnestly to protest against the reprobated practice, and the other to begin its discontinuance. Of particular cases I say nothing. They may be supported by their particular circumstances. As a general prac- tice, the holding of evening religious assemblies is bad, and tends to corrupt, and not to amend, the morals of the community. The effect of my labors was visible in the im- proved manners of the young, and in the evident increase of the number of worshippers attending our services. About forty only were assembled to hear the first essay of the young candidate. Before I relinquished my charge, nearly 200 constituted the regular assembly. The Body was, however, hopelessly ignorant, while a few individuals had at- tained to considerable information. At this thneand place I formed an acquaintance with a sensible person employed in the Excise, who became a very regular attendant on our worship, and an ap- prover of our general doctrines. When my ac- quaintance commenced, he had what I considered as three capital defects. He was an unbeliever in Revelation, from disgust of the doctrines which he supposed it to inculcate. By considerable pains to free the Christian religion from the imputation of teaching the received opinions, which appeared to 93 him so objectionable and monstrous, I had the good fortune to remove his disgust, and to convince him that the revelation of Christ is worthy of God. He no longer hesitated to receive it, supported, as it appeared, by so much convincing proof of its divine authority. He commenced a worshipper of God, the father, as a disciple of Jesus Christ. He ivas addicted to the unprofitable vice of swearing, which undermines the principles of piety in the mind, and generates a disregard to the autho- rity of the divinity. But he ceased to call the name of God in vain, and was considered a remark- able instance of change from impiety to decency and propriety of conversation, and I was often con- gratulated on the success of my expostulations. He devoted much of his time to riotous company and excess in drinking. But he became an exam- ple of complete sobriety and correct conduct. His wife, who had no predilection for such as departed from the established worship, encouraged his refor- mation by joining him in attendance on our services, and by favoring my unremitted visits at her house. By often spending my evenings there, I had the sa- tisfaction to see him weaned gradually from other company, and satisfied with the moderate enjoyment which home supplied, and which I did not refuse. The result was, his additional comfort, and de- creased expense, which was very convenient in his . circumstances. With him I corresponded after my .. 94 departure, but have now lost sight of him. He had been brought up among rigid Calviuists, who had filled his mind with a disgust of religion. He pre- sumed that his father would prefer his continuance in irregular courses to his reformation of manners in connection with heretics. His mind was strong, and capable of high improvement. His heart was equally capable of high virtue. I shall remember him as long as the powers of memory shall remain, and would gladly renew my acquaintance with him. In the society were four women, at least, of con- siderable understanding. Their characters were dif- ferent, but they all entertained rational views of re- ligion, and zeal for its genuine success. With them my intercourse was pleasant and improving. Would it could be said that there were four of equal cul- tivation and merit of the other sex ! I have since associated with a religious community where the case was exactly the reverse. One man, however, of the regular flock, had ac- quired a considerable portion of valuable know- ledge. But of the best knowledge he was altogether ignorant. He was advanced in years, and in du- plicity and malignity. I had the good fortune to keep on the best terms with him to the last, but could not shut my eyes to the moral deformities Which centered, in an unusual proportion, in his character. He had retired from business, but not to cultivate religion and sincerity. He was a pro * verb for every thing that was disagreeable, although no man accused him of want of strict justice in his transactions. The former ministers had often smart- ed under the malignity and tyranny which he ever attempted to exercise. He was, indeed, a " Dio- trephes, and loved the pre-eminence." How I re* gretted to see united, so much ability with so much unworthiness, so much rationality of view with so much obliquity of temper and conduct ! He was, hi some measure, our prop and stay, and our bane and plague, a thorn in the flesh of every one who had any connection with our interest. Such men are not unfrequent elsewhere among us, though few ean be said to equal this man. CHAPTER VIII. Ministerial Ordination. Tiil; first occurrence, which occasioned me some difficulty since my ministerial engagement, arose from a wish, expressed after I had accepted an in- vitation to be settled pastor to the people, that I would submit to be ordained in the usual form. To render this matter more intelligible, some detail may be necessary. Ordination, in some mode or other, Lad continued among the Presbyterians long after they had lost all attachment to the church discipline and government, which once distinguished their sect. The form had remained long after they had abandoned all right to impose articles of faith, to demand an account of conversion and spiritual experiences, and par- ticularly of a special call to preach the gospel. About this time, however, many demurred to un- dergo what they considered as unscriptural impo- sition, and I was one of the doubters. Previously to ordination, none were allowed, in this and other congregations, to administer the particular ordinances of religion, which seemed to be considered as of more solemn import than the ordinary acts of worship and devotion. Hitherto, I had not christened any child, or distributed the Lord's Supper; but, on such occasions, had ex- changed with a neighbouring minister, who had re- ceived the important qualification of ordination. Being now chosen pastor, I wished for the end of an inconvenience, which I had felt more heavy, because I esteemed it unnecessary. The people, also, with a right feeling, wished to obtain the ser- vices of their own minister. The aged person, whom I have mentioned, was the only avowed Sncinian in the society. From him I expected no difficulty, trusting to the freedom of his sentiments for a liberal indifference, which 97 X felt, without adopting sentiments, in other respects, equally free. His acquiescence, owing to the va rious ramifications of his connections in the society, would have left me no difficulty. But this man had his prejudices; "he had never known such a thing," and declared that he " could not, in con- scknee, sit down with mc at the Lord's Table, if I should venture to administer the Sacrament unor- dained." Religious scruple, at all times, had commanded mv indulgence. The matter was not, altogether, a point of conscience with me, especially when serious offence might be given by singularity. I resolved to consult some ministers of whom I had a good opinion, who pressed my conformity, but supported their opinion by arguments that tended to increase my unwillingness. One, especially, wished to re- tain the custom for its decency and solemnity, an argument which leaves a great deal to fancy. But his chief argument was, that the door to the mi- nistry was thus rendered less open to unsuitable pretenders. As I had ever held that societies have a right to judge, for themselves, of the suitableness of their pastors, however crudely they may judge, it seemed unjust to shut a door w hich liiey might choose lo open. This seemed a species of priestcraft, a draft which I had ever held in utter abhorrence. The argument also failed to prove the thing for «hich it pleaded. For it is notorious that no cheek V 93 is given, by ordination, among those Dissenter* who uniformly adopt it, such as the Independents, Baptists, and Methodists, to the admission of every species of illiteracy and ignorance. Nor would my friend have presumed to question the right of a society to entertain any man, as minister, however unqualified. All that he could do was, to absent himself from the solemnity of ordaining an illiterate person, which could make no alteration in the case, as there would be no want of those who would have no such scruples. "Without being precisely of his opinions, in many respects, I personally consulted Dr. Priestley among others, and had with him, on that occasion, the only interview with which I have ever been favored. Rather contrary to my expectations, he urged my compliance, but with great moderation. I had hoped to obtain his concurrence with iny own opi- nion, and to produce an effect, by it means, on the mind of my scrupulous opponent. The sincerity of this man's scruples of conscience, however, I seriously doubted. Not willing to carry my point peremptorily, I thought it right to sound his inclinations concerning the expense that must be necessarily incurred, if an ordination should take place. It was calculated that it could not fall short of ten pounds, which, of course, the society must defray. Ten pounds were words that operated as a talisman. Scruples vanished. The idea of ten 99 pounds freed me from all embarrassment. I was no longer incapable of every duty of a minister, und the scrupulous Christian sat down, very con- tentedly, and received, without further hesitation, the Holy Sacrament from my unconsecrated hands. This difficulty being removed, various infants un- derwent the ceremony of being sprinkled with water issuing from my fingers. Every thing appeared to proceed smoothly, when a message was delivered to me that my presence was requested, without delay, to christen a child that appeared in danger of death. This I had not foreseen, and the shock to my feel- ings and principles was violent. I gave an instant negative to the invitation. The family was of some consequence, and the partizans and branches of it soon surrounded me to expostulate with me. None •of us believed in original sin, and, for my own part, if I had believed, the connection between the cere- mony required and original sin, could never have reached my organs of perception. As it was, I could only ask, " what possible good can it be to christen a dying infant V The answer was, "it will, without baptism, be denied Christian burial,." " But I will officiate at its interment ; and haw you not a good burying place ?" " None have ever been interred in it." " Well, let us make a begin- ning in this case." " No! the family burving-ground is in the parish church-yard." " Surely, that cannot »i»nify, when I tell you that it is exceedingly against f2 ICO my inclination to christen the child. Il encourages -a superstition, which it is high time to explode." *' The mother is greatly affected by your refusal, and we know not what may he the consequence. This is no time to reason with her." — I instantly complied. But that, I think, was the last child whom I was persuaded to treat in the same manner. This event had a great influence on all my opi- nions, and on my future destiny. Baptism had excited my notice among other branches of theology, and I had read several things on the subject. I had been differently affected as I read different treatises. A confused recollection of various arguments now obtruded itself on my mind. The previous question of Emlvn had been very early considered by me, and produced no small im- pression. While that impression lasted, I had read a most able treatise, written by Mr. Foote, of Bris- tol, who, on Iloadly's principles respecting positive institutions, very luminously treats of the two points usually discussed, the subjects and the mode of baptism. At the time, I saw as Mr. Foote taught jne; but, after perusing the work, I reflected that it was of no consequence to settle those points, if baptism is not a rite of perpetual obligation, which 1 full) believed it not to be. I always made a point of conscience to follow my full convictions, let the subject be of whatever importance. Under the K7I belief that baptism was not designed, by its In- stittltor, to be perpetual, Mr. Foote's treatise had only a temporary effect on me. I thought him right, but judged it of no consequence whether he was right or wrong. In short, all his arguments vanished soon out of my sight. Time led me to doubt the validity of Emlyn's position. Although I now concur in his conclusion, I arrive at it in a way somewhat different from his, as will be shewn in the sequel. His premises I abandoned, and, at that time, his inference appeared unfounded, on that account. But Mr. Foute's bonk also had lost its efte< t, and I imperceptibly ac- quiesced in the validity of the views which I had entertained from my youth, and did not hesitate to christen infant children. But now, when this shock was given to my feel- ings, and I was called on to deal in a seeming charm, my recollection became very busy. Emlyn had lost his hold for ever, but on that very account Foote began to disturb my understanding. I re- solved to give the subject a complete investigation. The arguments for immersion of adults came now quite fresh into my memory, as I began to recollect the contents of Mr. Foote's book. In a little time, I felt that I wanted no information on that side of the question. Just at that period a work on Bap- tism, by the Reverend John Palmer, was advertised. I had heard him preach at Bristol with great satis- F3 102 faction, and now said, " this sensible and learned author will convince, if any thing can convince, mc, — I will procure the book." This almost decided niv mind. " Is this all that can be said by a ra- tional and candid man for infant baptism." So I reasoned. The die was cast, and I for ever gave up the question. While this was passing, I cultivated, with more assiduity than before, the acquaintance of an in- genious Baptist minister, who lived a few miles from me. His conversation served to confirm me, and his conversation effected a still more important turn in my views. He was fast renouncing his orthodox faith, but was not disposed to adopt my Arian sen- timents. They soon lost their hold of myself. I believe that we mutually assisted each other in abandoning the views of the person of Christ which we had adopted, and in embracing those which we have ever since maintained. About the same time, my ideas underwent a total revolution on the subject of human liberty, and I have no reason to doubt of the conclusions which were then made. It may appear that, by a man whose income was forty pounds a year only, no apprehension of the future coidd be well entertained. Such a pittance could be replaced by almost any mode of life. My friend, who had more experience and ampler re- sources, determined on abandoning the ministry, which bis change of opinions rendered do longer 101} eligible. It was m\ lot to fight with all the difficul- ties of* my profession. I had undertaken my mode of life from choice, and retained a fondness for it, which was increased by the sticcess of my first effort?. My taste for literature led me to think no other profession compatible with the course of study to which I was devoted. An affection for my congregation had an interest in my heart like a first love, and my reluctance to leave it was very great. The determination was formed, of honestly avowing my change of opinion on the subject of baptism, and of offering to offi- ciate, as usual, with that exception. A neighbour- ing minister agreed to exchange with me when any occasion of christening required it ; and f submitted it to the society — whether we might not go on, in this manner, as we had done at my first settle- ment. A meeting of the people was called, for which Diotrephes was prepared. He begged that all the women might remain, to express their opinions. After my letter was read, he put two questions to the people assembled. " 1. Do you wish to have your children baptised ? What do you say, mothers of children ?" The answer was of course in the affirmative. "2. Do you prefer to have them baptised by F4 10* your niiuistcr ?" The answer, of course, was here the same. The assembly was dismissed, and the man's son- in-law was deputed to inform me that the congre- gation would dispense with my services at the end of one quarter of a \ear. It was now lime to consult my friends. Not one of them gave me the least hope that any congrega- tion of the Presbyttrians would receive me with such an unhappy change of opinion. To disconnect myself from this body was painful to me, in no small degree. My acquaintance was among them only, and I respected them highly for their general candor and comparative learning. At the same time, I began to question the extent of their libe- rality, when I experienced so feelingly the want of it. Of the Baptists I knew nothing, but that they are generally Calvinistic. The names of Gale and Foster, in former times, were known to me, and those of Foote and Toulmin, at a more recent period. The former of tiiese two was no more. To the latter I made known my case, who had received some anec- dotes from me, through a third person, for a work which does not appear to have seen the light. By his means I was recommended to a respectable so- ciety of Baptists, of liberal sentiments, who then, for the first time, came within my knowledge. With them, after a while, 1 was settled. 105 While I was in this perplexity, my people began to express their concern that I was going to leave them, to whom I frankly owned that I did it with reluctance, and in consequence of their own reso- lution to dispense with my services. Great was their astonishment at my declaration. " They had understood that it was an act of my own. They had never expressed a wish that I should remove. The matter might be very well arranged in the way I had at first proposed." On this an explanation took place. They had only answered the questions put to them, but had authorised no one to tell me that I was dismissed. I was besought by them to allow them to call another vestry meeting, when they would give me a cordial invitation to continue my labors among them. "Who," said they, "will take such pains with our children?" It was to late to consent to this, as I had promised to supply the congregation which had invited me. The civi- lities which I received were numerous during my further stay, and on my departure a large body of these plain and well-meaning people, with their children, accompanied me to the coach. I shall never forget them, though the last weeks of mv residence with them were some of the bitterest of my life. My stay here was exactly one year and three quarters, and I let't them in my twenty-fourth year. Reflections on this period have been made during VS 106 my narrative. Many others will suggest themselves to the reader, whom I must now release from his attendance on the events which bef'el me at this, place. A new scene offers itself to his attention. CHAPTER IX. Settlement with a Congregation of General Hap- lists. — Account of the People. — Voluntary Re- moval, and reasons for it. In proceeding to my destination, I visited, For the first time, the great city, and became acquainted with several persons who have, ever since, formed a most respectable, portion of the circle of my ac- quaintance. It was in May 1790. Here I might have remained with a respectable society, had it not been for my previous engagement. To my promises I have ever paid the strictest regard. This was the second time in which I neglected and sacrificed my comfort and fame, in order to answer the expectations which I had raised, when there would have been very little trouble to disengage rqyself. It appears to me dishonorable to endeavor to obtain freedom from engagements, in order to promote self-interest only, even when our release is attended with few difficulties. Such punctiliousness has seemed, at times, to disserve me. But I have i 107 retained my self-esteem, which I value ahove every advantage. It may be concluded, as F have avowed myself bound to follow the dictates of conscience in every matter of a religious nature, that, when my mind was no longer influenced by the arguments of Emlyn respecting the perpetuity of baptism, and when the baptism of adults by immersion appeared to me to be tlie only Christian baptism, it may be concluded, on these accounts, that I was now, on conviction, a Baptist, and it will be concluded also that I submitted to that rite in the form which ap- peared to me right. Such certainly was the fact. Some friends advised me to pass through the water in London, which would have saved me much sub- sequent anxiety. But I thought it best to give proof of my conviction among the people to whom I was going to minister. After a short stay in London, where I preached twice, ami I have never repeated it, I proceeded to my intended settlement. The idea that I had fol- lowed the dictates of conscience, and made some sacrifice to it, gave an uncommon elasticity to my character, and I entered on my professional labors without any disgust with the world. But my troubles had not ceased, and occasion was given me very speedily to lament the hardships of my fate. To preach to the people was, of course, my first e6 108 employment. These liberal Baptists had established a strict communion, that is, they admitted no man to the Lord's Sapper that had not been previously baptised. This appeared to me such an exercise of dominion over the faith of Christians as could be founded in power only, exercised with a total dis- regard of right and equity. But it was not the time to contend, nor was there any occasion, as I had no opportunity to offer myself for communion. It seemed, however, a subject tit for discussion at a future time. After officiating as a preacher once or twice, it bfcan to be rumoured abroad that the minister was 4in unbaptised man. It was suggested that he could not preach before he had made public pro- fession of Christianity. The ministers, in the con- nection, were written and spoken to, one of whom dispatched a pastoral letter to the people, to charge them not to elect any man, as their minister, who w is not baptised; or was not ready to be baptised, with imposition of hands. This imposition of hands had been mentioned to roe before, and I had protested against it, a* super- stitious They could not say that it was a Christian institution, but it had been received in their chinch as an appendage to baptism. My arguments went to shew that, for the same reason which induced me to reject iufant sprinkling, 1 rejected imposition of 109 hands, because it wanted scriptural authority. Irt short, I had declared that I would he baptised, but that no man's hands should come on my head. Affairs were in great perplexity, on this account, and a set of preachers? among the people, contrived to confound and embarrass tilings that did not re- quire any remedy but Christian charity. On this the subscribers, few of whom were members of the church, took up the matter with spirit. They de- clared that they would not trouble themselves about questions of church discipline and established prac- tices, but would have a minister who met their ap- probation in his public ministrations. They assured the church that they would elect a minister, and support him, independently of them, and they might seek what remedy they pleased. The congregation. was decidedly on my side. J-Iowever a compromise was entered into, that, as the church were interested in the public instruction, though they contributed little or nothing to the support of the cause, they should have a right to vote along with the subscri- bers. In event, a pretty unanimous invitation was given me to be the preacher of the society, but that the church should choose whom they might as administrator of their religious ordinances. That I may bring this business to a conclusion here, I will pay no great regard to time, but put together every thing that occurred to its end. By consent it was understood that the people, 110 meaning the subscribers and church members, whe- ther subscribers or not, should choose the preacher; that the church should provide the administrator of the Lord's Supper, whom they called elder; and that every individual should be baptised by any elder in the connection. And I think this a very equitable arrangement, although it may generally be contrived that the same man may sustain all these characters, and perform all these duties. Yet the division of the offices was here become necessary. I could not be elder, because I could not submit to ordination, which was necessary, in the esteem of these good people, to valid administration. I could not baptise, because they insisted on imposition of hands on the baptised, which certainly I could not conscientiously perform. The. person who acted as elder, at this time, was an aged man, minister of a neighbouring congrega- tion, who had a district under his charge with the name of messenger. This sect, or at least a part of it, think that there are three orders of ministers in the church of Christ. Deacons, who may bap- tise; elders, who may, besides baptising, do what pertains to the Sacrament ; and passengers, who have a supervision of churches, though those churches do not devolve on them, exclusively, the ordination of the other functionaries. In fact, they are Epis- copalians, or Lutherans, in church discipline, with- out adopting the name of bishops, — whom they call in Messengers, as the Germans name them Superinten- dents, — and without claiming for the messengers the exclusive right of ordination. The good old messenger was a man of sense, and much liberality. In rationality of views he outran the people, but had great awe of them, and perhaps an undue desire of popularity among them. He would not baptise me without imposition of hands done after baptism; and, indeed, declared that he could not conscientiously. It was, how- ever, evidently his earnest desire that I should be- come the minister of the society, for which he la- bored with zeal and effect, He wished me to be a member of the church, and declared that if any other minister would baptise me simply, the church could not have any right to reject me as a commu- nicant. The matter was so arranged, and I was not the only one that did not receive imposi- tion of hands. Thus I was the means of exclu- ding from this people all further claim to impose this unscriptural condition of church membership. All my attempts to introduce open communion were, however, without effect. In time, I was pressed to accept of the eldership, which I declined if ordination was a previous qualification, and con- tinued the instructor only of the people, because they considered ordination as indispensable. These minute details serve to throw light on the character of a body of people but little known, and 112 fo elucidate the history of religion in this country, where much yet remains to be done in order to free Christianity from degrading additions. This people were generally plain and rustic, but superior in information to those whom I had last instructed. There was a great variety of religious sentiments among them. Their ministers had la- bored, principally, to make them abhor the doc- trines of Calvin : his tremendous predestination, his original sin, and particular redemption. But their chief aim had been to make Baptists. They had great zeal on this head, and seemed ready to com- pass sea and land to make one proselyte. A few only believed the divinity of Jesus Christ. The body of the church were Arians, Among the hear- ers there were Socinians and Deists. It was com- fortable, on the whole, to converse with them, but difficult to preach to so heterogeneous an assembly. One man among them deserves to have statues erected to him, as a first rate patriot and philoso- pher, as a good and enlightened man. It is not necessary to record his particular opinions. He had a due respect for the character of Jesus Christ, who would never have been commissioned to bring the will of God to the knowledge of men, had the world been like my heavenly friend. Would I could give his name to the world, which I am pre- vented from doing by my design of not giving local particularity to this work ! He understood uieta- 113 physics bettor than any man I have ever met with. He was in trade, but he was truly a gentleman, in a Jar belter sense than most of those who claim that name. One other man like him have I met with in the course of my life, of whom these memoirs will make mention in due time. My divine friend was self-taught, but he was well taught. To him I am indebted more than to any man. If I see him no more in this world, I will endeavour to meet him in a better. It. is beyond my pow er to describe the va- rious qualities of intelligence, benevolence, acuteness, and industry, which make up the character of this more than human being. My income at this place was somewhat more ample than that which I had been used to receive, but it was certainly not more adequate to my expenses, which were considerably increased. I had before paid but sixteen guineas a year for the general use of a parlor, for a bed-room and a small room adjoining which were entirely iny own, and for my board. This left me about twenty-three pounds a year for other necessaries and conveniences. But, on my first and last removal, 1 had been allowed nothing for travelling expenses, so that now I found myself ten pounds more in debt, without having discharged what I owed on quitting the place of my education. J received here, in the first year, about sixty-five guineas, and sixty guineas a year afterwards, and eertainly saved enough, before the first year was 114 completed, to pay the last debt of ten pounds which I contracted. But my expenses became heavy. A parlor and a bed-room cost me nine pounds a vear, and my board was also to be defrayed, which was not economically provided. An additional bed-room, for the use of a brother, who came to visit me for three months, cost me at the rate of eleven pounds a year more, besides the increased outgoings for board. This induced me to accept of a part of a vacant house, belonging to one of my friends, where I kept a servant, and where my expenses were not diminish- ed, although I paid nothing for lodgings. After considering all these circumstances, in less than a year and a half, at Michaelmas, 1791, I rented a good house, with a large garden, for twelve guineas a year, and resolved to take pupils. Thus, at the beginning of J 792, I became a regular school-master, which occupation I have pursued, ever since, with little interruption. Now my taste for literature was roused into acti- vity, and I felt that I had an adequateness for tuition, which might procure me additional profit and fame. It was my resolution to try all that this situation could offer, with a determination to change it for a more favorable one, if it disappointed my expecta- tions. Several pupils were placed, on very low terms, under my instruction. As the accommodations ex- pected were (Main, and my house was cheap, I reaped benefit from my labor, and certainly meliorated, 115 dining the year, my worldly condition. Not being aide to manage to my mind with servants, I married, in the summer, a very deserving and respectable woman, who lived with me sixteen and a half of my latter years, when she was taken from me, leaving me a large family. Alas! she was a loss indeed. During the time in which I was settled there, I became a writer in a periodical publication, without any emolument, and furnished, among other fugitive pieces, two letters on the slave trade, which gained considerable celebrity, and produced a sensible effect on the country. It is my intention to republish them, with other pieces already given to the world, if a second volume of these memoirs should ever be drawn up. The fate of this will determine whether another part shall ever be offered to public atten- tion. The success of my ministerial labors was far less now than it had been, although I spoke extempore one part of the day, in order to gain the attention of this ruslic people. Something was done towards ex- citing attention, and the effect is, to this day, felt, of discourses and conversations which had for their ob- ject to impress the people with a belief of the im- portance of worshipping one God, the father only, and of relying on the unpurchased mercy of God for acceptance with him. Some may remember my ef. foils to this effect, which were more remarkable, be* ause they were altogether new and untried before, 110 Mo^t of the people differed but little from me ii* sentiments, but the importance of the subject had never struck them. They had never considered that the difference is immense between the worship which is paid to one person, and that which has three per- - sons for its object, and between a free and a pur- chased salvation. At this time, politics created a more than usual animosity in this country. The French revolution roused the English nation into admiration or hostility, according to the different views which were taken of it, and according to the different sentiments which were previously entertained respecting the rights of mankind. The Whigs, among whom Protestant Dis- senters class themselves, hailed it with enthusiasm; the Tories and the retainers of the court, vt ho have too often no feeling but interest, no character but adulation, deprecated it as subversive of all exclusive privileges. It was my lot to think, on this occasion, as I hope, with the wise, and to consider that revolu- tion, as I continue to do, as the sublimest effort of a nation to obtain justice and happiness. Its ill success has not diminished my admiration of it, because I consider the disappointment which it has experienced as originating in causes independent of its own charac- ter, and because I do not yet think the failure decided and final. I attribute the events which followed it as not flowing from it, but as the fruits of a most monstrous combination of Kings against human hap- 117 jmioss, and especially of the criminal, unnatural, and impolitic accession of tlie English government to the coalition of European despots. It is my serious con- viction that, to this country principally, God w ill look for an account of the atrocities of France. Among my compatriots, I suffered my share of obloquy on this occasion, which was rendered more unpleasant, because it met rather the approbation than discountenance of a few persons of most weight in our religious community, who lived long enough to see their error, though not till it had, among other tilings, rendered my situation painful. This was one reason of my removal, at the beginning of the year 1793, after a residence, among this people, of about two years and three quarters. But it may be right to state my inducements for change in a more detailed form. 1. The reason above-mentioned had some, though not much, influence on my determination. Indepen dently it would have been ineffectual. I would have waited, at my post, for more favorable times. 2. My expectations of success, in my ministerial profession, were somewhat disappointed.* These * The conclusion which I drew at the time seem* not to have been just. The appearances on which it was founded were not examined with sufficient calmness and discrimination^ Since the above was written, which was dictated under the impression of ihe justice ol unoriginal deductions, I have had an opportunity of reconsidering the circumstances tuid of consulting trie opinions of othi i » 118 expectations were probably sanguine, not to sai extravagant. I have learned to form a juster view of mankind, and of the efficiency of public instruction. Tins cause would operate a much less effect on me, at this more advanced season of my life, and I -should now weigh its circumstances with more deli- beration. .'3. There was not a field for the exercise of my talents, such as they were, as an instructor of youth, nor a sufficient remuneration for my exertions. My hopes of a competent number of pupils were small, nor could any sanguine expectation have a chance who liad witnessed them. It is with real satisfaction I now think that my exertions, whatever rnav hare been their intrinsic character, were on the whole prosperous, and tending clearly to the increase of" the number and in- formation of the people among whom I labored. An early acquaintance with this fact might have occasioned me no small hesitation, but would not, probably, have changed my determination. However, while the know- ledge of this fact affords me pleasure, it suggests an obser- vation which may produce a good effect. It is, that the ministers of religion should not precipitately decide on the degree of their usefulness as the instructors of mankind. .Appearances may deceive them. They are influenced bv many circumstances of a temporary nature. The progress of the good which may arise is generally slow, and time must be allowed for its full developement. I ew well in- tended and judicious efforts are ultimately lost. Young men, who are sanguine and impatient, should he especially on their guard, lest, by an inconsiderate despondency, they should withdraw the sickle from the harvest, when it is fully ripe, and cause to themselves and others inconveni- ences winch might be avoided, if they should persevere till the crop were secured. 119 t>f fulfilment. Tlic studies, which I was directed to propose to their pursuit, were humble, and by no means suited my taste for learning, or ardor for the reputation of a respectable classical teacher. I knew my fort, and was convinced that my hum- blest neighbours, who undertook to instruct, had, in the department which was allotted me here, as well-founded a claim to approbation and support. This had an important effect on my resolution. 4. The prospect of a family seemed to make it necessary that a better dependence should be pro- vided. My ambition did not lead me to make the pasto- ral office a first object of attention. I was now convinced that no ministerial situation woidd secure, independently, any thing like a respectable mainte- nance. On that account, an appointment in a large place and populous district, appeared indispensable. Where this could be obtained, it was of no material consequence what prospect there might be of pro • fessional emolument, which could not answer my purpose, or that of any one who has but a small dependence on a private fortune. For these reasons, some more and some less cogent, my resolution to remove was fixed, and I have had no reason, on the whole, to repeat of it. i:o CHAPTER X. New Settlement. — Doubts respecting an Ordtr of Ministers. — Doubts removed. Relying on promises, which were never realised, my removal took place, and my lot for eight years was that of a schoolmaster in an advantageous si- tuation. A quarter of a year was consumed in pre- parations, without any source of income. Some debt was as yet unpaid. How I managed to furnish a house, to support an establishment, and to make every demanded payment, I can scarcely compre- hend. The whole sum, which my credit obtained from my relations and friends, did not exceed sixty- six pounds. How greatly was I indebted to an independent spirit, and to a well-exercised economy ! How admirably was I seconded by my dearest and tenderest friend ! One of my prospects was the supply of a con- gregation, with a salary of fifty pounds a year, which entirely failed through the treachery of one of those who encouraged me to change my situation. When I hud arranged all my plans, and entered into every necessary previous engagement, the same person announced his intention to withdraw the en- couragement which he had promised, of placing under my care his two sons, and on which iny suc- cess seemed must to depend. These were dreadful blow-, which served further to lessen my opinio 121 of the worth of mankind. Still my mind waft equal to the occasion. It rendered roe superior to despondency, and a lesson was taught me, of more value than most which I had learned, viz. to depend on my own exertions, and to trust to my own talents and assiduity alone. By their means, such as they arc, I have ever siuce mastered most of the difficulties of life. They are little subject to the evils which flow from the caprice of our fellow creatures, or from the uncertainty of sublunary things. Such was my confidence in my skill as a tutor, that I never once despaired of ultimate success, and the event realized all my reasonable expectations, although a sanguine temper of mind certainly induced me to be, on the whole, not well satisfied. In this I was most certainly wrong, and my removal at the end of eight vears from this place, was one of the greatest errors of my life. But it is not necessary to anticipate what will come in due time to be told. In a short time after my kvst settlement, I began to question the expediency of an order of men called ministers. Authority for such an order, there certainly is none in the Christian Scriptures. Their best foundation is expediency, of which I now began to doubt. It seemed as if the progress of religious information had been more retarded than promoted by their means, and I witnessed the duplicity and selfishness of many of my brethren, which did not contribute to weaken my doubts. The talents of • 122 tiie rest of society appeared to be laid up, because the burden of religious instruction was committed to a priesthood. With uncommon ardor did I figure to myself a reformed and enlightened world, if these were discarded ; and if our weekly assem- blies were addressed by our physicians, and lawyers, and philosophers. Men, without professional pre- possessions or antipathies, and without interest,' would investigate truth ; would propose it coura- geously ; would teach candor, and love, and peace ! What a fairy-land presented itself to my imagina- tion, heated with projects of benevolent reform ! Having laid it down as a rule, that the dictates of conscience must be followed, and that no religious article is to be deemed unimportant, I hesitated not to disclose my views. For one year, I had, unex- pectedly, served a society that allowed me the li- beral remuneration of one guinea a-week; and, by that arrangement, contrived to save a considerable sum out of the usual contributions, which were given, with what equity I know not, to my successor. Though I had been disappointed respecting a stated en- gagement on my first settlement, my occasional assist- ance was very often requested, by which I gained no despicable means of adding to my resources. But now all this was abandoned, for I considered no sacrifice too great when conscience was to be obey- ed; and this sacrifice, however insignificant it may appear, was serious iu my circumstances, when my family was rapidly increasing. I did not "consult with flesh and blood," but determined to " obey God rather than man." Nor let me be condemned. I even recommend the same course to every man. Nothing but an obedience to the dictates of con- science can secure self-esteem, or the approbation of God. It is, indeed, recommended to all to examine all things with more care than I frequently did. Precipitation has induced me to adopt, for a time, opinions and practices which I have seen reason, on more mature reflection, to relinquish. On which account, I recommend sober deliberation. But I would warn all against unworthy practices with con- science, and to err rather by encouraging its liveli- ness and delicacy, than by suppressing its suggestions. In this state of mind, I never refused my services, but resolutely refused all reward. No arguments were sufficient to change my determination. How- ever, I rather considered the order of ministers as not expedient, than xinlawful. They might be set up, by religious communities, without crime, but not without folly. They had a claim to remune- ration, if they chose to be retained ; but I thought that they would have a greater claim on the grati- tude of mankind, if they withdrew from their occu- pations, and followed such as might be more useful to others, and equally advantageous to themselves. This was my sentiment for years, till a particular circumstance completely changed my views. G 2 124 A congregation, within the distance of a walk, or about four miles from the town in which I resided, had been supplied by me for some time, when it came to the resolution to invite me to undertake the stated charge. As I looked upon it as the duty of every man, who had information to give, to render his utmost assistance towards reforming and improving his fellow men, my services were ever ready on every occasion that called for them. But, as I would receive no recompense, I had given, gra- tuitously, to this society, such aid, as I could com- mand, refusing any remuneration, even in the form of presents. When the resolution to invite me was entered into, it was thought that there would be an indelicacy in making the offer, without insisting on my acceptance of a salary. The people feared lest they should be looked upon as having mercenary views, and sent me their request through my friend , clogged with this condition,. It did not appear to me that a change would be produced in their de- termination, which was as generous, at least, as my sacrifice of all emolument. I was not prepared to give up my oun opinion. Even if I had then been convinced of its fallacy, I should have feared the imputation of maintaining my doctrine no longer than till 1 was tempted, by interest, to abandon it. I did not hesitate to refuse the salary, but accepted the imitation, if I might accept it by itself. My offer, thus restricted, was refused, and another mi- ziister was chosen. This sensibly affected me, and caused me to doubt the tenableness of my opinion. I freely confess that this was the most effectual practical argument that ever assailed me. My duty to preach and instruct the world had not lost hold of my mind, even while I considered its rewards as inexpedient. I, at this time, felt a more powerful impression of it on my heart. But it now appeared that the performance of my duty was rendered impracticable by the opinion which I entertained. Only occasional opportunities, at most, of exercising what talents I had, would henceforth be offered, and invitations to officiate, even occasionally, were spa- ringly made, as my brethren were loath to ask what they were not allowed to recompense. Most truly do I declare that all my feelings were strongly agitated. It was never my intention to cut myself off from the Christian ministry. But this seemed to be the effect of my singular opinion. The example, which I thought, that I was giving, had no influence, while I was manifestly deserting my post. My reflections began to surmise, that there was something in the habits and manners of the world that would ever prevent men from gratuitously en- deavouring to diffuse light among their species, and that the race of human beings would scarcely listen to what no man thought it his business professedly to study. I began to foresee that religion would goon become an object of indifference, on my plan; G3 126 ami that, instead of numerous assemblies of Chris- tian worshippers, the land would soon he without any gathering together of the people in the presence of Almighty God. Some qualification for their ia- struction was necessary. No one would acquire it, however able, who was occupied with other engage- ments. Professed preparation was the only resource, and that preparation might, and, as it seemed, must, be encouraged and rewarded. The inexpediency of a salary, voluntarily given, disappeared. Nay, its ei- jteditney became apparent, as, without its acceptance, religion would, probably, be forgotten. Time has strengthened these convictions in my mind. Many other considerations have also presented themselves to it. My fantastical and impracticable notions have no longer any influence. I have profited less than most persons by my profession, which has never brought me, on an average, the one-twentieth part of the support of myself and family. But I am now inclined to adhere to its just demands, and to exact its proper remuneration.* Time has effected * Let me request the attention of the candid and con- siderate part of the Society of Free-Thinking Christian";, to the reflections which this subject has suggested. Their plan is not original, as they will here find one example of a minister who can plead »ome disinterestedness in acting on their principle before their formation into u society, and, probably, before they had the scheme in contemplation. They may be assured that they will find their design as useless and abortive as he found a similar attempt to be. From their principle a very material 127 as many changes in the state of my views as in those of most men, ami I advise young persons to deliberate long before they venture on innovations, while I exhort them never to sacrifice conscience, from an attention to which my greatest happiness has flowed, although I have experienced temporary inconvenience from adherence to it. But I must observe, that my greatest inconvenience has arisen from precipitation, and not from attending to tire sober dictates of conscience, which produce onry honor and happiness. discouragement lias already arisen to one effjrt within the writer's knowledge to diffuse rational information. One principal brother of their community had it in his power to foster and nourish up a society of Christians, who are not in general less free-thinking than himself. His countenance, had it gone no further than to attend on the public service, would probably have given success and permanency to the infant cause. The influence qf his most honorable character and most respectable si- tuation in life cannot fail to give repute to whatever he may undertake. It has given it to the Society of Free- Thinking Christians to as great a degree as such a society can attain it. In the case alluded to, he has kept aloof, and neglected to give the chief, if not the only, thing which was wanting to secure success. That being want- ing, success, I fear, can scarcely be expected under all the circumstances. But the Society of Free-Thinking Christians may never peruse these observations. 64 1S!3 CHAPTER XI. Death of Infants. — Passion for Agriculture. — It leads to a Change of Situation, which I consider as the greatest Error in my Life. I do not attempt to preserve the order of events, nor to give the dates of occurrences, during (iie eight years of my abode at the place in which I had now pitched my tent. The events themselves alone can interest the reader, which I detail faithfully. Perhaps even they are too unimportant for detail, which induces me to be more copious in the reflec- tions and reasonings, that relate to them, or arise from them. It is as much my object to describe my mind and character, as to develope the circum- stances through which I have passed. From some or all of them the reader may derive improvement. One of those things which so often occur in fa- milies, befel us in about four years after our re- moval. It pleased God to take from us our second child, a very beautiful boy, at sixteen months old. The afflictions which I had endured had been nu- merous : but one of this nature was quite new. We were not prepared for it, as his illness was of about ten hours' continuance only. The appearance and removal of infants are circum- stances in the divine government, which admit of no satisfactory solution, while they furnish no reason foi complaint. The dominion over which God presides^ 129 requires infinite intelligence to comprehend, as well as infinite power to sustain and direct, it. Human beings have some power and some wisdom ; but each of them is very limited. As well therefore might we quarrel with what we cannot perform, as with what we cannot understand. After seeing intelligence, wisdom, and benevolence, in those things which we can fathom, we ought to conclude, that the same wisdom, intelligence, and benevolence, would be found in all other cases, if they were once thoroughly apprehended, and we should attribute it to our own ignorauce, that any imperfection seems to subsist hi the works of God. That a child should be allowed to make its en- trance on the stage of life, for a little while, where it probably suffers far more than it enjoys, and causes more anxiety than satisfaction to all that surround it; that it should be removed just when it has connected itself with the habits of relations and friends, and at- tached them to it just sufficiently to excite sorrow for its loss: What account can be eiven of such cir- cumstances? Must they not be referred to a wisdom which we cannot develope; to a plan of benevolence of which we do not see the end? In the death of children we acquiesce for reasons that arise out of our ignorance. On the death of others our under- standings are more completely satisfied. One thing is more certain and satisfactory, however, in the for- mer than ill the latter case. We can have no possi- 130 ble apprehension of the future misery of a child. How consoling is this thought! Had I believed in original sin, how could I have supported this afflic- tion? Benevolence of nature has led some of the advocates of a gloomy scheme of religion to conclude, that infants are of the number of the elect, without seeing that their reasons would plead as strongly for the election of all men to eternal life. If I could have believed that God could leave man out of the purpose of election, I could admit that God could, with equal justice and benevolence, damn infant-man to all eternity. The utmost that I could hope would be, that some, of infant age, might be saved. My child might be of the number. But I could have no foundation for hope that mine had any particular pretensions to such a distinction. It could have no claim to preference, especially if preference, in elec- tion, admits of no claims, and is decided by no reason. In such cases of affliction, however, we seldom reason much, and our reasonings would produce but litf le effect. We are wounded in some of our strong- est and best feelings, and submit as our best consola- tion. Time, by exhausting our ability to dwell oh the same subject, by presenting new objects of atten- tion, and by inducing new habits, obliterates the traces of those to which we have been accustomed, and restores the tranquillity which we have once lost. Other sorrows replace the last, and change effect^ our perfect cure, as far as a cure can be effected in a 131 state of discipline, of which endurance evidently forms a necessary portion. Our life is composed of vicissi- tudes, which are wisely ordained, and demanded hy our condition. Unless a stability and uniformity of happiness were our portion, change is a friendly ap- pointment, and comes seasonably to our relief. The loss of a child would long have preyed on my affections, had it not been succeeded, at no very distant period, by the loss of my most beloved brother. The first was obliterated by the poignancy of grief which the other event produced. The beautiful infant was forgotten when death destroyed all that was beautiful and excellent in human form, by mak- ing this man his victim. But it is not consonant with the purpose of this work to introduce the reader to any circumstances, except as they had an influence on my own character and happiness. Of his per- fections I shall, therefore, give no further account. This last event sensibly affected me. My attach- ment was no common one, for it had for its object no common person, it was followed by no common sorrow. The circumstance, however, tended to in- fluence my future life in a considerable degree. By bequest, I was made the possessor of a considerable estate in land, so circumstanced, indeed, as to increase my consideration rather than my income, which is, to this day, but little assisted from that source, although it promises a comfortable provision for my children. 4 • Such was mv prospect in tlie beginning of the yeaii G 6" But the chief effect that flowed from this accession of property was the change that was operated on my inclinations and wishes. An unconquerable desire to become a cultivator of the earth arose out of the possession of land, on which I might exorcise my in- vention and gratify my inclination. This is a subject that deserves a particular discussion, a3 the ?v/g-e for farming has, of late, seized on persons of every de- scription and every profession. It is not confined to those whose education has fitted them for the pursuit, and whose ardency has, by its general pre- valence, been perceptibly increased. It has seized the philosopher, the tradesman, tire lawyer, the phy- sician, the statesman, the divine. It is a useful folly, but generally ruinous to him who cherishes it. The literary man, or the man of business, carries into his schemes a spirit of enterprise, which strikes out many new ideas and inventions that prove beneficial in their results, although they have 184 1, when the above, was written, a season of comparative tranquillity and happiness. The tale to he told in another number of tins performance wtil evince that my sorrows are hut in their commencement when I begin to promise to myself a turn of fortune. All hope has now nearly abandoned me. To complete my afflictions, the prospects of my children are blasted, and I must leave them to their own resources and the protection of a benevolent Providence. What I could do for them 1 have done, and will continue to do, as long as my Life and abilities are lengthened out. They will have been virtuously principled and respectably educated. 1 look forward, however, '• . a::iithcr vulume, for the devc'.opemcnt of these ctrcuio- stances, with faint expectation. «J3 been attended with ruinous expenses, in tlie first in- stance, owing to unskilfulness and errors. These persons also employ calculation and strict accounts in their occupation, which the mere farmer too often neglects. The latter is satisfied with general results, and pursues particular practices, which, in many given circumstances, may be unprofitable. Calculation, on the contrary, leads to the abandonment of unprofit- able husbandry, or to the adoption of its use in cir- cumstances only which secure advantage. In this way, practices come to be suited to the soil and other accidents, by which a larger produce is obtained, and profit at last secured by an arrangement of methods which would otherwise be less productive and less profitable. From improvements of this description, a similar spirit is acquired by the more practical farmer, whose improvements are likely to combine private interest with public advantage. It is very certain that most of our improvements in agriculture have been derived from the enterprise and speculation of men, who were not originally brought up to agri- culture, as mere farmers have generally been content *ith the routine in which they have been bred. No men can be less active or less given to hazard expe- riments, which would have a much fairer chance of success in their hands, if they had the spirit to at- tempt them. This has been the case, till of late, at least, when more adventurous projectors have given « stimulus to the farmer's exertions. It is very true, 134, at the 9atue time, that our speculators have seldom much benefited themselves. The public have beea the gainers, and those who have adopted experiments already proved ami no longer attended with uncer- tainty. The ill success of experimentalists has arisen from their ignorance of customs, and of the market price of the articles which they vend or purchase ; from er- rors committed in pursuing an untried path; from de- pendence on punctuality in those whom they employ, which is not to be found among rustics in an equal degree as in those employed in trade and manufac- tures. But two causes, especially, have operated to their disadvantage. One is a more elegant and ex- pensive mode of living, and a more profuse expendi- ture in their experiments than are suited to such an occupation. The other is an inaptitude to manage and direct a set of men, with whose manners they are unacquainted. The first is to be found in our projectors personally, and is subject to control and correction. But,for the last,there is no remedy but long experience, which frequently brings failure of means before it brings adequate skill and dexterity. Our peasants may not differ from those of other countries ; but it is very certain that they require constant obser- vation, if they conceive that their employer does not well know how their work should be done, or what quantity they ought to perform in a given time. Perhaps their selfishness may be owing to their igno- 135 ranee and their misery, which certainly are undoubt- ed and general. Their conceit is also great. Prac- tices which they have not seen, are an object of their scorn. Although they are not interested in their re- sult, they co-operate in them with reluctance, and will thwart their success when they can, from preju- dice and conceit. Great is their joy if any prove abortive. Such is too often the influence of prejudice, ignorance, selfishness, and conceit. In my case, without meeting with many, if any, untoward circumstances, and without experiencing the usual difficulties of sanguine experiments, the event of changing my mode of life was highly injuri- ous to my resources. After succeeding, to a great degree, as an instructor, my employment grew irksome when other views had gained ascendency. Some degree of literary fame, which. I once so ardently coveted, had now no charms. The expostulations of friends were fruitless. No occupation appeared suitable to a refined taste, to a literary turn, to a philosophical mind, but agriculture. The observation of Franklin on the subject had more weight than all reasoning and all experience. The reputation of my pupils, who proceeded to the uni- versities of England and Scotland, availed nothing. To make two blades of grass grow where only one grew before, appeared more worthy of my diligence than to train Ihe tender mind, to give growth to ideas, and principles of moral action. 136 Eight of the most improving years of my life were spent in the station which I was now quitting, hut right years of incessant toil and uninterrupted atten* lion and assiduity. My increasing family had been creditably supported. My debts had been all paid. My prospect was as good as at any period of my life. Two hundred pounds formed the net property which I had realized by my occupation. I had many en- lightened and virtuous friends around me, in whose society I enjoyed the " feast of reason and the flow of soul." Books, of all kinds, were within my reach. But I was not happy. I. My employment was too laborious, and not sufficiently profitable. The irksomeness of it was indeed great. The competition was hot, and I often wonder how my institution was able to succeed, in so good a measure, in the midst of others of all descriptions, especially in the very neighbourhood of a public school, in the height of its fame. By patronage it did not succeed, as I had few patrons, and those who favored mc were persons of the most insignificant influence, or calculated to do me injury with the public. Is it vanity to attribute success to some degree of merit, that of diligence, at least, if not of ability? But there was such an air of giving me countenance in the persons who committed their sons to my charge, as gave me the deepest disgust. I have lived to sec this carried to as great a height, but I have learned to despise the littleness from which 137 it issues. Among Dissenters this air of patronising their ministers generally prevails, owing to their de- ficient education, and owing to the hahit of support- ing them. On this account, I always prefer to have pupils from members of the establishment, who have, never attempted to treat their own ministers degrad- inglv, and who have never dreamed of the attempt towards ours. There is much more of what is called gentility among the latter than the former; yet I do not think the balance of character and merit is muck with them. They differ in character, as do their children, who constitute pupils of different com- plexions, but, on the whole, equally desirable. To instructors, however, the members of the establish- ment arc more pleasant as parents and guardians of their scholars. I have now learned to take these things more equably, and to be less hurt at the pro- tection of my friends, who have always done ine more injury than my enemies, if I ever had any. 2. The peace and profit of agriculture incessantly presented themselves to my mind. I conceived that my children would be brought up in health and con- tent in the midst of rural scenes, and that their mo- rals would be uncontaminated by the vices which I observed in towns and cities, and which impressed my mind, ever ready to exaggerate, with terror on their account. The necessaries of life were advancing in price, which began to torment and alarm me for the future fate of my family. The advanced price 138 ©f these things, at the same time, promised to reward my industry in the occupation which I coveted. In- deed, I should have profited, in one year, by agricul- ture, more than I had gained in eight as an instructor, if the price of articles had continued but one year longer, as I sliall soon explain. 3. The influence of prevailing example and taste had its full effect on my resolution. It was the rage with many to turn cultivators. One son, in most re- spectable families, was to be educated a farmer. 4. I had some knowledge of the occupation, and now diligently studied it in books. The annals of agriculture were at my fingers' ends, and I have now by me various plans for the management of my estate with advantage, which I drew up from study of the annals. My knowledge of the manners of my native district was considerable, and seemed to preclude the impositions practised on those whose education has been unconnected with agriculture. 5. My estate wanted a tenant. In fact, a man, without property, had undertaken to occupy it and iailed, which brought it into a disrepute that was by no means deserved, and continues to render it less productive to me, because I at last let it on a long lease, wlien its bad reputation was not removed. Better would it have been for me to have given it for a year or two without rent, than to have occupied it» as matters turned out. Such were the reasons which induced me to turn fanner. They operate on my 139 mind even at this day, notwithstanding my experience. My predilection for agriculture remains, although I know the evils attending the occupation to a person of my habits. If an advantageous opportunity should offer itself, I would yet accept it, in preference to every thing. Now, how ever, my knowledge and experience would be considerably enlarged, and my deliberation would be more mature. This is all I can say of almost every circumstance of my life. My objects have not been ill chosen ; but I have adopted them, in many instances, with too much haste. Although the eight years which I last spent were the most important in my life, they were marked with fewer incidents than any equal portion of time which I have lived. To literature I then attended with more diligence and success than I had ever done, and my advantages were more ample. My religious opinions underwent no very material change. My scruples, respecting the expediency of a pen* sioned ministry, were adopted and abandoned in that time. Indeed, my religious views, except on one point, 6eein to have been then settled, subject probably to little change for the rest of my earthly journey. My removal, this time, was a very serious error. The first which I made was forced on me. The second was dictated by sound views of prudence 3jid propriety. This last was the creature of a V ^ 140 lively imagination, and of feelings too powerfully agitated and interested. It is not constitutional with me to regret deeply what I have done honestly, though precipitately. Although, therefore, I con- demn the determination now adopted, it does not disturb my tranquillity. I am capable of exquisite enjoyment, and equally liable to exquisite misery. My situation has never been favorable to the former, and the latter has generally predominated in my fortune. Because I would not torment the reader, 1 have, on purpose, suppressed many things which would exemplify the life of comparative anxiety and unhappiness which I have led. On the whole, I can say that my days have been " few and evil." If the reader has sufficient patience, I will now lead bim to one period more of my existence, after which I will close this work for the present. From the history of every man, many moral lessons may be de- duced, if it be given faithfully. The incidents of mine are few ; but they are important as an elucida- tion of the nature of my profession, and of the state of my party in religion. The occasional reflections depend on their own truth, and are little influenced by the importance or insignificance of the facts ou which they are grafted. To a philosophic mind many profound observations are suggested by the history of the most insulated character, one that may 141 have been but little connected with the rest of human kind. A life which tends to illustrate the manners and institutions of a community will more power- fully and abundantly excite them. CHAPTER XII. Success of Farming, with Agricultural Speculations, Behold me now returned to my native place, after having taken a large circuit through several districts of this flourishing island. At three places had I set up my household gods, and rather improved my circumstances in each, without materially increasing my happiness. In the last, indeed, I had enjoyed some of the first luxuries of life. I had experienced the endearing charities of a husband and a father. I had now therefore a far larger circle to conduct than in former instances, and a longer journey to accomplish. But, without any serious accident, yet through much difficulty and danger by sea and land, we arrived at our destination ; and the reader may imagine me, at last, " in my own ground." Economy had never lost its ascendency and in- fluence with me. By attending to it, I escaped much difficulty in my new establishment. Our habitation was accommodated with the least possible 1 142 expense, which saved mc the loss which I must have sustained in disposing of my domestic and other effects, when I eventually quitted this resi- dence. Not quite sanguine enough to be unap- prehensive respecting some obstruction to my com- plete settlement here, I purchased as small a stock for my farm as was consistent with the hope of a return. But I resolutely put a crop into the ground, in as perfect a condition as could be wished. Having the advantage of great popularity in my native place, which was surrounded with the friends of my family, and the sheep of my father's flock, my neighbours gave me the most generous assist- ance; so that, at a small expense, the completest crop was sown that my farm had ever received. Their ploughs, and harrows, and carts, with suitable teams and attendants, were sent on my land, to be under my direction without any charge. Nothing was unfavorable. The season was the best in the me- mory of man, and the produce, in harvest, was abundant beyond all experience. That I may dismiss my agricultural story at once, my narrative, on this head, shall be without inter- ruption till its close. The bounty of heaven proved the greatest dis- couragement to my speculation, and the public good effected my individual loss. I sold the produce of my land for a sixth part of the price of the grain which I had sown. Seed-barlev had cost me twelve }t3 and thirteen shillings a bushel, and I had to sell the increase for two shillings and half-a-crown. The whole return scarcely paid my expenses, though it was unusually abundant. Every body remembers the years 1800 and 1S01. Such a fall of prices had scarcely ever been witnessed. One year's con- tinuance of the advanced prices would have put hun- dreds in my pockets. As it happened, / lost the rent of my farm ; sup- ported my family out of my small capital; and spent, during the two years that I remained, all that I had brought with me. At the end of one year, however, I let my farm, at an unreasonably low rent, on a lease of twenty- one years, of which circumstance I feel the effects to this day. But I believe that I pursued the best course, and made the best bargain that the time would allow. I am not sorry that my tenant grows rich by his occupation, although I would gladly share in his prosperity.* * Here I beg leave to state that ibis property consists of between three and four hundred acres, that it is ele- vated as to situation, but proper for plantations, which may turn to good account to such as possess the means of attempting that method of improving iis value. It lias been in the possession of my ancestors for many hundred years, on which account, however unphilosophi- cal and even ridiculous, I greatly value it. But it is a property which does not suit the state of my family, for each of whom I wish to make some provision, although 144 recent circumstances have rendered my efforts almost hopeless. The title is good, and I would engage to pro- cure the resignation or' the lease. The fee-simple may be had for three thousand guineas, although I think it ought to fetch a larger price. To a wealth)' man, such a sum laid out, even in speculation, would he a trifle. To give the reader a specimen of the speculations in which 1 at that time indulged, in which I still indulge, and which I would carry into execution, if greater riches were my portion ; I will here shortly state how this land might be employed, so as to produce a \ery ample future fortune, without injuring its present value. It is high land, and much of it is fit only for sheep and for plantations. It certainly has been, at a recent pe- riod, covered with wood. For a long while, the pasture would not suffer by a growth that would even shelter and nourish it. Two hundred acres might be thus ma. naced without diminishing the rent and produce of the estate. The expenses would be less than in most other districts, as the price of labor is low, and plants are to be had in the greatest abundance, on very moderate terms. It is, I believe, agreed that plantations thrive best when they are made originally very thick, and I would allow the sets to be about five yaids distant, which would give about 900 per acre ; indeed 1000 might not appear too great a number; and the whole would consist of 180,000 or 200,000 on the 200 acres. The expense of the original purchase of the farm, and of planting 200 acres, would not exceed 7000/. while the rent of the whole would not be lessened. The interest of money would be 3.50/., and in twenty years the plan- ations would come to be thinned, and produce for many years more than all the interest of capital. In fifty years, should 100,000 only be left, the value, at ouiv one pound a tree, would amount to 100,000/., and double that stun, if they should be sold at two pounds each, of which little doubt can be entertained. Such ap- pears to be the capacity of high land to become more pro- ductive of profit than the best tinder any other manage- ment. The chief inducement to the speculation would be the very low price of the first purchase, and the smallness of the first expenses. Twenty pounds an acre 14,5 would comprehend every tiling. Whatever may be urged, by way of declamation, against sucli schemes, and what- ever extravagance may be detected in my calculations, I am so Convinced of their general utility and practicable* ness, and even of the private advantage to be derived from them, with such a prospect as we have of a si arcity of wood, that, if I had the necessary sum to spare, I «uuld not hesitate to try the experiment on the scale recom- mended. At any rate, my property, irt fifty years, would treble all the costs and charges. Gladly would I relin- quish the speculation to any one who would give me a tolerable price for the land. Want of personal ability only could induce me to do so. CHAPTER XIII. Rescue of young Candidates for the Ministry from the Effects of Intolerance. On my arrival in my native place, one of my first acts was to invite a young man, whose story I bad heard and shall here briefly relate, to take lodgings in my vicinity, in order to receive such instruction as I could give him, that he might be qualified for admission into one of our seminaries as a student for the ministry. To him another was soon associated, whose circumstances were the same, v\hich circumstances I will also briefly describe. I have already mentioned a school, attached to the seminary in which I was educated. It bad become the custom for young persons who had their eye on the seminary to spend some time at this school, which was certainly the greab^t H 146 possible disadvantage to them ; for, if they had gone first to a place of repute and merit for clas- sical instruction, they might have better dispensed with instruction at the seminary, which, most as- suredly, afforded none worth seeking. These two young men had placed themselves at the feet of the Gamaliel of a tutor at this school, with every en- couragement to expect admission at the seminary, in due time. One of them had quitted a situation in London in consequence of a promise of such admis- sion, made to him, or his friends, by this Gamaliel. But, before the time of fulfilling this promise arrived, the first young man became suspected of a change of religious sentiments, from Calvinism, which the nurse had taught him, to something like Socinianism. He had maintained, in dispute, the opinion preferred by Dr. Priestley in his Institutes, that creation is coeval with the power that produced it, by which the difficulty is avoided of an eternity spent by the Creator in inactivity, whatever difficulties may attend itself. Without much ceremony he and his friends were given to understand that he could not be admit- ted, as a student for tiie ministry, at that institution. He quitle I the school, on this assurance, and ac- cepted my invitation; was received, afterwards, at another sen inarj ; and turn makes a very respectable figure as a scholar and minister. The other young man had no change to make; but au honest avowal of heretical opinions, — which, 147 if it' should be allowed to be imprudent, cannot be stigmatised as criminal, at all events, — operated the same effect on him. He also accepted of my offer of assistance; wasadmitted elsewhere; but, in consequence of the deep mortification and real inconvenience which this proceeding occasioned, and in conse- quence of an originally delicate constitution, and some subsequent events, he sank into a decline during his future studies, and died, without com- mencing a minister of religion. I witnessed the effect of his too acute feelings on his frame, and was not surprised when I heard of his death. The disgrace of this transaction was shuffled from the tutor to the visitor, and from the visitor to the tutor, both of whom I consider as equally culpa- ble. A direct appeal was made by a minister of the district to the visitor, who referred its decision to the tutor. The tutor pleaded the sanction of the visitor. But the cream of the farce is, that the recommendation, which form required, of one, if not of both, of these young men, when they made application for admission, was signed by one of the tutors, who the next year took an effective part in the rejection of two other candidates, of unques tionable learning, on similar grounds. Such effects are produced by a zeal for orthodoxy, and a desire of having the reputation of orthodoxy. This business was laid before the patrons of the institution, who agreed to countenance their visitor. H2 us He urged, not the justice of his cause, but the ne- cessity of supporting the tutors : and here a plan of well-concerted malignity was exhibited. The de- lectable tutor brought a direct charge of infidelity against the young candidate, who had maintained the coelernity of creation with the Creator, and for that very sentiment, which will ever divide the thinking part of the world, and has no connection with belief or unbelief in religion. I am prepared to give a more detailed account of this transaction ; and it is not improbable that such an account, with authentic names and dates, may form an appendix to another volume of these humble memoirs, if this should be encouraged. A similar rejection took place in 1802, as I have hinted, of which some account has been already given to the public. The two tutors were openly implicated iu this year's business, which I have traced to a high authority, while an equally ugh authority has declared, that it was "uncountenanced by the directors of the Institution, and originated in self-assumed power." I reserve this affair also to a future occasion. The result of the whole was, a declaration by the tutors, that thoy were directed to reject all candidates that should have already avowed Socinian sentiments, but that they were not to expel such as embraced them after admission. To be assured of their previous soundness, thev put questions to the young candidates, on the sub- jcct of their views of God, as consisting of three persons. The bigotry, duplicity, and malignity* of these transactions, excite my utmost indignation. The reader cannot fail to unite in the same feeling. This is not an Institution supported by Calvinists and Trinitarians ; and these restrictions have been adopted without honesty and without consistency. One of the persons concerned dares not avow the share which he has had in them. I am beyond tiie influence of his resentment, and, if I were not, I would disclose the truth. Gladly would I be called upon to make the public better acquainted with the circumstances which are connected with these prac- tices. But enough has been said to develope my connection with them. It is said that these things have now been set on a more honest and equitable footing. 1 pray God it may be so. CHAPTER XIV. Disgraceful Intrigues. — Congregational Secession. My father's flock now surrounded me. They were under the pastoral care of a man of unques- tioned ability and learning, and they were very respectable for information and numbers. This gentleman had been my father's co-pastor before H3 150 bis death, and had continued ever since to minister among the people. Owing to their diffusion over a considerable part of the country, there were several places of worship, and sufficient occupation for two ministers. My brother, their last joint-pastor, had been dead some years, and the vacancy had been filled up, in the interval, by occasional supplies. To have served them, during my stay, would have been truly acceptable to me. I naturally looked to it, not as a resourse, for the emolument was trifling, but as an employment in my profession, and as a gratification to my affection for my native place. The expectation of the majority of the people di- rected them to me, thus returned so seasonably among them. But the minister had other views, of whom I will speak with all possible lenity, because I revere him as my schoolmaster, and have once been used to revere him as a Christian, and a Christian minister. I was not asked by him, my father's co-pastor, to officiate, on my arrival, to a society, formed under the auspices of my family ; and supplies were pro- cured from a considerable distance. To procure the supplies had been devolved on him by the con- sent of the people. Much surprise was excited among them by ibis circumstance. At last, how- ever, I was invited by the congregations assembling at two of the places of worship, to preach to them at a time when the stated service did not take place. 151 I referred them to their pastor for his consent, which was not denied. On this, he also applied fot my assistance in the stated services, and obtained my compliance. For some time tranquillity pre- vailed. He was always reckoned a man of candor, and had no pretensions but to Arian orthodoxy. I really think him still a man of candor, led astray by an object which might very well influence a father. It was not my intention to accept of a joint-pastorship with him, for I had already per- ceived that my stay would not be long. I could have set his heart at rest, in a moment, on the subject which interested him. But he had a sort of passion for intrigue; he was a true French politician; he woidd never gain an object by fair means, how- ever probable ; but would attempt finesse on every occasion. My temper was always free, and my disposition open, to a fault, though not at all dis- posed to yield the victory to mere address. He began to sound the people, how they liked their present supply : then to ask, how they liked a Socinian, though I had cautiously avoided to carry any peculiar sentiment into the pulpit. Some- times he would ask how they would like a Baptist for their minister. These things gave me the greatest pain. I declared that I did not intend to stay there. But this did not put a stop to intrigue. Partizans began to spread reports of heresy, aud their minister, with whom I had amicably discussed U 4 152 the question of philosophical necessity, some years before, furnished the unlearned multitude with this topic; and preached, with unusual vehemence, in favor of free- will. The neighbourhood rang with the blasphemous opinions that were lately brought into the country, though no one ever heard me pub- licly canvas such questions. Some indiscreet ex- pressions of one or other of my four pupils were charged to my account. I was little less than hunted down as worse than a malefactor. To expe- rience this from my father's co-pastor, and from some of my father's flock, whom he had reared, and nourished, and served almost gratuitously ! it was too tormenting. These small manoeuvres and little practices went on while 1 was supplying the societies at the re- quest of tlie man by whom, and in whose favor, they were promoted. Many of my friends, and of the friends of my family, participated in my iudig- nation, and attempted measures that should recom- pense in honor, what I suffered by obloquy. Never had my moral character been impeached. Indeed, on that score, my reproachers were completely in lny power, had I sought retaliation. My heretical opinions were not unacceptable to many ; w hile others, very candidly, looked on them as not very material, since the body of the people worshipped one God, the Father, and had no predilection for the doctrine of atonement to divine justice by 153 tue death of Christ. My preaching was not doctrinal. My friends, in one of the united societies, pro- posed to invite me as one of their pastors, and an unanimous request to that purpose was made to me in -due time. Another of the three congregations acceded, by a large majority, to the same design. To the two first I sent au unequivocal answer, that I could not accept an honor which 1 thankfully ac- knowledged, as it was my fixed resolution to choose a residence elsewhere. This induced them to urge my acquiescence for so long a time as I remained among them. But I assured them that there was no likelihood that my compliance, how much soever I wished it, would give any tolerable satisfaction. I discontinued officiating, except to these two churches. After some time, the third society, which was the largest, was called together by their pastor, and himself put the question, if they concurred with the other two united churches in inviting me to officiate as their minister. This question was answered in the affirmative, by a considerable majority of the members assembled. Tiiis was an unexpected re- sult. The minister, who had himself called the assembly, protested against their decision, on the ground, that the numbers congregated were not sufficient. Soon afterwards, on a day when the Lord's Sup- Hi 154 per was by him administered to this people, at the close of that solemnity, without previous notice, and without consideration of the presence of hearers and spectators, he begged the communicants to con- tinue in their places, while he laid before them a subject of great importance. With much acrimony, he then deprecated what had been done by the other congregations, begged them to stand by him hi his advancing years, and disclosed his wish that his son, who was then pursuing his studies, might be elected as his associate. It was never my desire to obstruct this plan; and, if nothing had been done but what was necessary to procure the election of the son, I should have looked on the whole as very natural, and deserving of every indulgence. But the hypocrisy, the falsehood, the calumny, and malignity, displayed on that day, changed every sentiment in my breast. They are well remembered by hundreds. But I have promised to speak with tenderness, and bog to be forgiven if I have reluc- tantly employed indignant terms. The result of these proceedings was, my total discontinuance of services to all the branches of the united societies, the election of the son, by such as acquiesced in that measure thus conducted, and the Secession of a most respectable portion of the people in each congregation. To this course I was, .--at first, averse. But the wound was too deep to be healed; indignation was too much roused to be 155 appeased ; secession appeared, at last, the only re- medy. Great was my affliction at this event, which affected me the more, because the churches had been formed by the talents and diligence of my father- But the irremediable state of affairs, and the interest of what I considered truth and virtue, reconciled me to the measure. CHAPTER XV. Perpetuity of Baptism ? Before this time, a material change had been produced in my opinion on the subject of Baptism, a subject which had occasioned me so much per- plexity in early life. To such vicissitudes all men are liable, who think for themselves, especially those whose minds are sanguine, whose dispositions arc precipitate. It is the price which they pay for ho- nest purpose, and conscientious inquiry. If I had it to pay again, I would willingly submit, rather than sacrifice integrity, which is of more value than all things besides. The conclusion of Emlyn now appeared just, but I inferred it from premises that seemed to me more legitimate. I do not yet see sufficient grounds for u 6 166 his data. Nor am I affected by the reasonings o^j the Rev. Gilbert Wakefield, which involve one of the most monstrous of religious positions, the doc- trine of imputation. Besides, I am satisfied that he has totally misinterpreted some passages of the Scrip- tures, especially 1 Cor. vii. 14. See Monthly Rep. Vol. iv. pp. 444, 445. It appears that this question had been debated between my father and a brother of his, who had been brought up to the ministerial profession. Among the papers of the former, which had now come into my possession, I found a letter from the latter, containing an ingenious argument against the perpetuity of Baptism, which I have never seen in any author, and which flashed conviction into my mind. I will give it from recollection, as I have not the letter. The idea is his, the amplification is mine. He argued conclusively, as others have done, that helievers are the proper subjects of Baptism, but that such believers only are contemplated as became converts from another religion to Christianity, by means of miraculous evidence: and this he deduced by ingenious and original inference from the very ■words of the institution, as given by the historians ©f the New Testament. Their different words were placed by the side of one another, in the following method ; 1S7 MATTHEW, Chap. xxviii.,v.!9, '20. 19. Go ye there- fore and teach all nations, baptising them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. 20. Teachingihem toobserveallthincs whatsoever I have commanded yon. Ami lo, I am with you always, to the end of the world, or the Jewish ase* * Note, The Jew- ish age or dispen- sation. This inter- pretation must be laid to my charge. If it be not well supported, my re- spectable relation is not accountable for its failure. The age, 6 ajoiv, this age, •uto? o cum, gene- rally, if not always, signify, I think, the Jewish dispensa- tion. The age to come, aim o [a.i\?mv, clearly signifies the Christian dispen- sation. The last phrase occurs but twice or thrice in the New Testa- ment. On some other occasion I may take an op- portunity of discus- sing this question more at large. MARK, Chap, xvi., v. 15, 16, 17, 18. 1.5. And he said unto them, Go ye into all the world, and preach the gos- pel to every crea- ture. 16.Hethatbeliev- eih, and is bapti- sed, shall be saved; but he that believ- eth not shall be damned. 17. And these signs shall follow them that helit ve : In my name shall they cast out de- vils ; 18. They shall speak with new tongues; they shall take up serpents ; and, if they drink any deadly thing, it shall not hurt them ; they shall lay hands on the sick, and they shall recover. LtJKff, Chap, xxiv., v. 47, 48, 49. 47. That repent- ance and remission of sins should be preached in his name, among all nations, beginning at Jerusalem. 48. And ye are witnesses of these things. 49. And behold I semi the promise of nuj Father upon you : but tarry ye in the city of Jeru- salem, until ye be endued with power from on high. acts i., v. 4, 5, 8. 4. And, being as- sembled together with them, he com- manded them that they should not de- part from Jerusa- lem, butwait/ort to confine baptism within the apostolic age. Its institution applies to no other period : and I doubt not that its continu- ance in practice was owing to the pretensions of the following ages to miraculous gifts. Some, who have denied its perpetual obligation, have supposed it an initiating ordinance designed to introduce any men to Christianity who may have professed another religion, and therefore to be pro- perly administered to those, in after ages, who may be in that predicament. For this I see no reason in the words of the institution, which are appro- priate, strictly, to the apostolic age, as they com- prehend that faith only which w as attended with signs. To that age it was particularly suitable, when a public profession was proper on many accounts, when the world was generally unbelieving, and when vast numbers were converted, and by that circum- stance gave weight to the testimony which they bore to Christianity. In after aires conversions are few 1(50 and isolated. Tliey attract no observation of signs, such as followed them at that time, for such signs have ceased. Such might be the reasons for the institution of a rite of temporary obligation. But, whatever were the reasons, the fitness of it to the time, and the specific nature of the words in which it is commanded, which describe, exclusively such circumstances as could then only take place,, are, to me, irrefragable arguments for considering Baptism as of temporary obligation and of peculiar design. 5. Arguments, drawn from the constant obligation of belief, are of no consequence. It is not the adop- tion simply of the truth of the Christian religion that is intended; it is the belief of those persons whom the sigyis slwuld follow, that is mentioned in the in- stitution: and, whatever extravagant inferences men may attempt to draw from this position, it is incon- trovertibly true,, as long as the words remain as they stand. The same may be said of repentance as a qualification for Baptism. For the repentance in- tended is not tliat which describes the rejection of sin, by those who offend God through mere immo- ral conduct, but that conversion from false religion and idolatry which took place in those who were converted to Christianity in the apostolic age. This is very evident from proper attention to the circum- stances in which the term is applied in the Acts. On this point I will quote the words of the Rev. 3 161 Timothy Kenrick on Acts ii. 38, which are exceed- ingly just, and are of more weight, as they have no connection with the question on which I introduce them. Repent and be baptised, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ, for the remission of sins: and ye shall receive the gift of the Holy Ghost. " The repentance to which Peter here exhorts his hearers, is not a general reformation of character and conduct, although the word sometimes undoubt- edly has that meaning, but a change of principles on a particular subject, namely, the divine mission of Jesus. Nor does the remission of sins, here pro- mised as the consequence of repentance and baptism, signify the removal of moral guilt in general, but merely a recovery from that sinful state to which all men, whether Jews or Gentiles, are represented as being reduced, so long as they are out of the Chris- tian covenant. This sense of the word repentance occurs in other parts of the book of Acts, as xvii. 20. ' But the times of this ignorance God winked at,* where heathen idolatry is spoken of, 'but now com- mandeth all men every where to repent ;' that is, to abandon their idolatrous errors, and to embrace the Christian religion. And, in the same manner, x\vi. 20, when Paul says, of himself to Agrippa, that he shewed first to them of Damascus, and at Jerusalem, and then to the Gentiles, that they should repent and turn to God, and do works meet for repentance ; 16*2 he means that they should forsake their errors as Jews or heathens, receive the Christian religion which God now offered to them, and walk in a manner becoming their new profession." To ask, have not men now need of faith, now need of repentance, is to play on words. The faith which was followed by signs is now not lequired, because it is impossible. The repentance which re- lated to a state of previous idolatry and unbelief in Christianity is not now to be demanded, as such unbelief and idolatry no longer prevail among Christians. Nor would such an acknowledgment of their previous condition be of any use as a testimony from even heathens to the power of Christianity, as a system of religion founded on miracles, which was evidently the original intention of such acknow- ledgment. But it is not necessary to remove minor difficulties. What subject is without them? It is enough that a question be supported by prepon- derating evidence; and that evidence appears to me to support the temporary obligation of Baptism, as it is clearly found in the very words of its original appointment. The discovery to which I have referred supplied me with these views, and reflection has enabled me to enlarge them. They still hold their power over my convictions; and, as I have ever followed the dictates of my conscience, through good report and evil re- port, I have abandoned both iufant aud adult Bap- 153 tism, and practise neither. The first appears to me never to have been instituted, and the last to have been instituted to answer a temporary purpose, to draw attention to the religion of Christ, and to the signs by which it was confirmed. This was my view of the subject when so much obloquy and opposition were raised against me as a Baptist. During the whole contest, I scrupu- lously concealed this change of opinion, as I would owe nothing to prejudice, even when the truth might, in some measure, remove it. For the good people would, doubtless, have been much less shocked by an Antibaptist, than by an Anabaptist, as they would call an advocate for the baptism of adults by immersion. I was aware, also, that I should scarcely have been believed as sincere in the rejection of my former opinion, under such circum- stances. It would have been attributed to motives which I have never allowed to influence me. A wish to gain a point, or a lust after popularity, or a mercenary view to the emoluments, such as they were, of the pastoral office, among the good people, would have been charged to me. For such and similar reasons, I kept my opinion to myself. But, when the secession took place, I had no longer need of concealment, in order to guard my honor. Those who stood my friends were too libe- ral to make any concession necessary. When they considered me as a Baptist, their regard was sincere. 164 and their attachment was uninfluenced by that con- sideration : and, when I made them acquainted with my actual opinion, their regard was not increased, nor did they find any particular pleasure in the in- telligence, further than as they rejoiced in every proof of my integrity. There was no particular facility given them, respecting their children, by my now avowed opinion, as they would still have to seek for an administrator of infant baptism, which they did not renounce. All men were acceptable to them, if they had candor and the spirit of in- quiry, and especially if they held the same views with themselves respecting the great and important principles of Christianity, the worship of one God, and the acceptableness of sincere virtue in his sisht. This argument for limiting the practice of baptism to the times of miracle, to which it was designed to call the attention of mankind, and without which it could have no appropriate design, renders its admi- nistration at all other times, and in all other circum- stances, except to those that believe, whom the signs shall follow, irrelevant and unauthorised. I have explained it to some who may, from that circum- stance, if they should read this book, be directed to the author of it. But, when 1 have so important a question to propound, that possible detection can not deter me. Nothing of consequence has ever been urged, to my knowledge, against the validity of my reasoning. One person, indeed, has hinted 165 that, by "them that believe," the apostles themselves are designated. To such a suggestion I do not reply. However, the suggester allowed that, if my reasoning cannot be refuted, baptism is irrevocably abolished. I had thus the pastoral charge of a people strongly attached to me, who possessed an unusual degree of religious information, and maintained a most respect- able moral character. Two societies were formed on a broad and liberal foundation . No creed was adopted to try the principles of the members. All were to be received who manifested a due regard to a virtuous conduct. The sentiments generally prevailing were, however, strictly Unitarian. Two places of worship were in due time erected, while we conducted our worship, pro tempore, in registered dwellings. My labors were extended to several places convenient for preaching, and the care of a small congregation at some distance, which was without a minister, devolved on me. Our success was rapid and considerable. The whole country was roused to inquiry; and curiosity, or a better principle, brought people to our assem- blies from the distance of many miles. My services were extemporaneous, and not disapproved. When, on the completion of our chapels, we were formed as churches, eighty persona sat down at the Lord's Table in oue of them, and sixty in the other. They are now instructed by one of those young men that were rejected for want of orthodoxy at our seminary, who completed his education at a distant place. My earnest prayers for their success ever attend them. I do not think that such a body of men is to be found elsewhere in the island of Great Britain. On the whole, I thank God for having made use of me in a work which I consider as most conducive to the information, to the moral worth, and to the happiness, of the country. — My regret for being for- cibly obliged to leave you, most respectable and enlightened men, will never cease but with my breath. I have suffered much with you, and re- ceived much happiness from you. This was the most important era of my life. And here I close rov narrative. CHAPTER XVI. Biographical Sketches. — Conclusion. I have much to say of the persons whom I knew in the course of my pilgrimage, and with some of whom I formed an intimate friendship. The subject would lead to an inconvenient detail, on \\ hith ac- count I will select a few characters only. Of N. D. I have already spoken, as a most en- lightened, self-taught, and virtuous philosopher. His favorite authors, in metaphysics, were Hobbes and Edward Search, alias Abraham Tucker, esq. whose work ' the Light of Nature pursued/ deserves to be more generally perused. Although the author seems not to have had much veneration for revela- tion, he has written little that needs to offend a re- ligious ear, and has displayed much ingenuity. N. D. and myself enjoyed once the melancholy luxury of surveying his gardens and grounds together, which are situated near Dorking. I am told that my good friend, his admirer, is now spending a calm old age, out of business, and I am sure that, if he does, he enjoys otium cum dignitate. T. K. was a man of rigid integrity, but not of placid manners. The maxim, de morluis nil nisi bonum, is surely a false maxim. If it should be observed, the characters of the dead would furnish but little instruction. It should be, nil nisi verum. This amendment justifies my free, but faithful, de- lineation of T. K. His beneficence was large, but his benevolence was not equally unequivocal. He was liberal and charitable from principle, but ap- peared less affected by the generous emotions of the heart. His merit was great, and who can be an- swerable for constitution and temperament? He did more good than he would, perhaps, have done had he possessed more sensibility. His beneficence was, at least, more discriminating and more effective. He was a zealous and successful minister, and com- manded high admiration when he could not secure attachment. He had more reputation than in- fluence, more industry than abilities, more acquire- 168 tnents than taste, more general information than learning, more perseverance than sagacity. His manners were correct, but not polished ; his instruc- tions were more sensible than amusing; his preaching was more edifying than ornamented. He was ever chaste in his compositions, but never splendid. He endured much, and did much good; but was more missed than lamented at his death. He was my friend, and did me essential services. How many can bear the same testimony, whom he faithfully and effectually assisted ! He has left many behind him equally beloved, but few equally useful. He will live long in the memory of numbers, as an able minister of the New Testament. D. It. was a counterpart of my respectable and noble friend N. D. His abilities were of a superior order, but his acquirements were less extensive. As an agriculturist, he possessed more spirit than all his more powerful neighbours; and, in an obscure district, though a simple tenant, pursued improve- ments on an extensive scale, and with a discrimina- tion and judgment that secured advantage. He was the greatest commander of mankind I ever saw, and had more ascendency over the minds and characters of others than any man that 1 have observed. All his wishes were executed, and yet his address was the essence of placidity and mildness. But his talents his genius, were his chief recommendation. He also was a philosopher. He was more, for he was a Theologian and a Christian of the first order, with comparatively few sources of information hut conversation and the Bible. Of these he made the best use. His mind could turn every thing to ad- vantage. He lives, and lives a blessing to all within his influence, and is "a light which enlightens every mail" that has the happiness of his acquaintance. T. E. — Of all my friends this man had my warmest attachment. lie was of sterling worth and. integrity, and valued for perfect simplicity and honesty of character. He had been bold in the avowal of obnoxious sentiments during a part of his younger days, but, like most men, exercised. more discretion in advanced life. He bad more ingenuousness in the adoption of truth, than talents in its defence. But he had, what is above all talents, an upright mind. He was exact, to minuteness, in economy, but he had the generosity of a prince, lie had not much to give, but he gave willingly and heartily. His care increased his fortune, but he owes nothing to address. He lived respectably and like a gentleman, while he maintained the most rigid self-government. He was a good man and a sincere friend. What signifies it, if he should not be a deep scholar or popular minister? Yet his learning was creditable, his services were decent. His family and friends esteem and love him. Strangers have not had much opportunity of appreciating his 170 worth. This man I am happy to address by the name of friend. * *. — The greatest part of this gentleman's life was spent in England, and yet he had not divested himself of a foreign accent and pronunciation, but in the least degree conceivable. His enunciation was likewise naturally bad. Greater impediments to public speaking could scarcely be conceived : but still he was a most interesting man and ingenious preacher. His irritability was incredible, while his attachments and friendships were most ardent. No man had a greater power of fermenting up his mind, if I may so speak, into irascibility ; and yet lie was benevolent, and, in seasons of calmness, placid and gentle beyond all conception or belief. He possessed uncommon quickness and acuteuess, though it might be observed that he repeated him- self considerably, and appeared to have prepared and studied the observations which he made with so much ability and happiness, He would be dif- fuse on subjects which pleased him, but not very ready on such as occurred on the spur of the mo- ment. His conversation was unequal, of which lie was aware, and therefore managed to start topics on which he could make a display, and on which he was always interesting, and sometimes brilliant. He struck those who heard him but seldom, as un- commonly splendid; but those who were with him often were disposed to view him as a less shining conversationist. On the whole, he was an interest- ing man, an elegant, if not a profound, scholar; sel- dom little, and occasionally great ; frequently hasty, but generally ohliging, gentle, and benevolent. He took an uncommon interest, from the first of our acquaintance, in the concerns and welfare of myself and 1 1 1 v family. My affection and gratitude will never be obliterated. * ' was a man of extraordinary caution and un- conquerable timidity. He was a great man, with no ordinary measure of littleness and trilling. His learning was considerable, but he carried it into minutenesses which were sometimes unpleasant. He conceived clearly, and expressed himself exactly: but his clearness of conception, and exactness of expres- sion, were accompanied with a solicitude to be un- derstood, which bewildered his hearers, and occa- sioned a weariness that banished all recollection of his best attempts to instruct. He produced, at best, but a confused idea of the drift of his reasonings, and of the course of his arguments. His education had been conducted in a circle entirely unconnected with men of a liberal turn of mind, and he displayed the effects of the. contractelness of the manners of his youth alter he had mixed in good society, and after he had acquired a vast store of learning, and i ;11\ of theological learning. While everyone respected his talents and admired his erudition, while I 2 172 every one paid homage to his acquirements, his caution scarcely allowed him to speak without undue deference; his fear of giving offence hent him at the feet of opulence and reputation. He submitted to court those who would, otherwise, think themselves honored by his uotice, and was of small consequence, because he knew not how to assert his dignity. Never was a great and learned man of less estima- tion. It required reflection to do justice to his eminence. His humility bordered on servility, his caution on abjeetness. His minute economy prevent- ed him from being respectable, but did not prevent him from exercising charity and generosity. He was a good man and a great man ; but, while he was ever esteemed in the former character, the latter was overlooked. When the littleness which accompanied liis manners shall have been forgotten, he will be celebrated for his erudition and abilities. Although he has not made himself much known while living, his death will furnish treasures of knowledge, which will instruct posterity, if his minuteness of elucida- tion, and his anxious correctness of style, should not obstruct his usefulness and fame. But I must not amplify my report of the good men, of the illustrious philosophers, and of the emi- nent scholars and theologians, whom the accidents of life have placed within my knowledge. In such a station as has been allotted to me, it may be extra- ordinary that I should have opportunities of obtain- tJ3 in" their acquaintance. It was but slight. It was, however, rendered productive of much insight into their characters, as I have ever possessed a c»>n 5 i derable degree of observation, and a memory front which few things, once observed, have made their escape. But the reader must be relieved from any further attention to my views of men, and observa- tion of manners. A few reflections will now release all parties from the weariness which this work has occasioned. I u;:i tired of its composition, and would scarcely have attempted it, had I foreseen how far it would have conducted me. A toilsome occupation leaves me but little leisure for writing, less for curtailing what I have written, and scarcely any for adorning or correcting my composition. I rely on the interest only of its details and reflections, and am not san- guine in my reliance on that resource. 1. It is evident that few modes of life are more precarious, and more inadequately remunerated, than that which 1 have chosen. Its uncertainty is unin- terrupted, as every deviation from previously adopted opinions, every error of judgment, throw a man on the wide world, to contend with all its difficulties, while it furnishes no possible resources against a turn of fortune. Liberty of thinking is accorded freely to a Dissenting Minister in my connection. But he thinks at his peril in many cases; and, with the most uniform steadiness of situation, he has to struggle I 3 174 unremittingly with scanty means and insulin lent re- sources. If lie buys a book, it must be at the expense of his appearance and that of his family ; if not at the expense of their privation of necessaries, certainly of comforts. His education fits him for literature, which can never be pursued hut under every disadvantage of want of leisure, and want of books and society. He must labor for nine-tenths of his income, as none is provided but such as a humble clerk would refuse to accept in the counting- room of a shopkeeper. The experience of a large majority of my brethren can confirm this truth, which, as it is truth, I will venture to proclaim, however it may operate on my condition. Even their usual occupation, of instructors of the young, is irksome. It is seldom prosperous, and the trust reposed in them, when a pupil is committed to their care, is attended with so much ostentation of pa- tronage and favor, as gives more pain to their feel- ings, than it does good to their circumstances. Ge- nerally a hard bargain is driven with them, so that they can scarcely put a morsel of bread in their own mouths. The upshot of my story would set this mat- ter beyond all doubt, as, after a most laborious life of forty-four years and upwards, I am now nearly in the very condition, so far as my efforts are con- cerned, as I was when 1 first began them. 2. The learning of our clergy must be an object of great wonder, to these who will consider under 17J what circumstances it is acquired. God knows, ir is scanty. But education has not been provided to secure it. Books and society are denied. Leisure is unattainable. The merit of no body of men U therefore more undoubted. If they are not pro- found, they are not contemptible, as scholars. Their information, under all disadvantages, is considerable, Their compositions, if rather florid than refined, are numerous, far more numerous, for the pulpit, than those of an equal number taken indiscriminately from the clergy of the establishment. What would the virtuous industry of such men do if they were liberally educated, and only moderately maintained ? I plead their cause from conviction that they deserve well of their race and age, and from knowledge that they are undervalued by the world, and unkindly used b) their party. 3. The want of feeling of our societies may be perceived from hints interspersed through this work. I appeal to their own consciousness, if they do not dismiss their ministers on most frivolous pretexts. Let them offend the pride, or disclose the injustice, of a powerful man, and occasions will not be want- ing to make their situation too irksome to be re- tained. Every minister maintains his lights and in- dependence at his peril. Their own recollection will furnish our people with examples of ministers who have removed to them under expenses more than I 4 176' ♦■qual to tiieir first year's remuneration. No thought of defraying them is suggested, and the minister would be branded with selfishness if he should quicken their recollection. The salaries, so inade- quate and pitiful, are kept bach, till the interest forms a considerable' deduction from the stipulated sum. I will not give instances, though such are in my possession that would scarcely obtain belief. If I should, hereafter, lengthen out these anecdotes of my life, 1 may present the world with some, in an authentic form. Besides, on the dismission of a minister, the in- convenience, the magnitude, or health of a family, the loss of property by the sale of effects, are sel- dom taken into account. The distance of hundreds of miles to which he may be forced to remove is no consideration. Even his character fails to escape from being traduced, and, if he has an imperfection, be is blasted for ever. But I will not, even by truth, wound my reader's mind. He will probably feel pity and indignation at this recital. Let him not, however, condemn Dissenters as altogether worse than other men. Many are truly excellent for morals and intelligence. It is the natural consequence of their popular consti- tution that, while they are imperfect characters, they should act as I have described. They have done much good to the world by their generous principles 177 of religion and politics. Their ministers are the greatest sufferers from their defects. All have de- fects, and thos.e who feel their influence have a right to complain. My share in the evils which I have described is now trifling, though I have endured my full portion. My condition calls not for pity so much on these as on other accounts. Yet my obser- vation is not less vigilant, and my regard to truth induces me to report it* • That the complaints respecting the distresses and mortifications of DissentingMinistersare well founded and of long continuance, will appear from the following most interesting letter. The writer of it died, as it appears, in a few years after its date, leaving a most honorable fame, principally on account of his Treatise on the Temp- tation of Christ, &c. See Month. RepHS. vol. v. p. 3 (I works will How; but morality, without the immediate extraordinary operation of the spirit, is of no avail. Three hundred at least he converses with in one day, who come to him one by one, inquiring what they must do to be saved. He sells six-penny worth of hymns, which, for the illiterateness of the composition, and the strangeness of the sense, if they have any, are perhaps not to be matched. Some of the people had got a notion that he was an angel, or superior to a man ; but, having been so happy as to touch him, they declare that he is indeed a man, though much beyond any man since the time of our Saviour and his Apostles. We are not apprehensive of his doing us any harm, but, if any of our people should be disposed to follow him, we should think it a real ad- vantage to be rid of ihem. I think the Methodists beha- ving peaceably should not be molested. While I injure no man, I have certainly a right to attend upon that preacher whose nonsense most exactly suits my nonsense. " You will excuse my sending these things in a cover, which Mr. Taylor gave me wi h his proposals to transmit to you, attended with his service. Perhaps, having Bux- torf, you may not think it worth while to subscribe, but I should be glad to know what you think of the usefulness of Mr. T — r'a Concordance. Mr. Taylor put me upon doing the Greek Concordance ill the manner he has done the Hebrew one; but I scarce think there is the same necessity for putting the Greek Concordance into the same form. Buxtorf, von know, had put the Hebrew words into a very neat order, according to the conjuga- J 8! the credit of generous feeling towards their teachers, it it be true that they are more sensible of the force uf the Christum 1S3 maxim, than their brethren, that " the laborer is worthy of" his hire," and ttwt the ministers of Christ ought to he " highly esteemed for their works' sake." Feeling ap- pears to form a very small trait in the BOmposition and character of the non-orthodox nonconformists ; and it certainly is less displayed in their religious capacity than in any other. Kindness cannot he more meritoriously exercised than towards the helpless, especially if they also deserve it by their virtues. Those who neglect it, in such circumstances, have to boast of little that is truly Christian. To flatter anv party would be mean. To pronounce condemnation would he unjust, unless it be merited. But justice should be done in spite of partiality, and in spite of a deliberate conviction of the truth of parti- cular opinion's. — The remarks contained in this work on the learning of Dissenters in general, are deemed equally applicable to all sects of them. Liberality is not an exclusive possession; but it does not appear to be much cherished by any party of Christian orofessors. ERRATA. Page 1, the contents of the first Chapter should be, Intro- duction. — Story commences. Page 8, the contents prefixed to Chapter I. should be in- serted at Chapter II. viz. Preparatory Studiet to the end of my first Academic Year. Page 23, line 17, for eighteenth, read nineteenth. line 2S, for twenty-one, read twenty-two. Page 51, Hue 1ft, insert a semicolon between sdtoolma, for nearly 200, rr;id above IGQ. Page 98, line 19, fur it meant, read its means. Page 116, line iff, for attribute, read consider. Page 122, lin^ go, for were given, read was given. Page ill, line .M, note, for five yards, read two yards «nd a haif. Page 153, line 8, for the tivo first, read these. J. ADLARPi Fiinicr, 1 }, MkKboHMw CteM I s