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CHALMERS' MISCELLANIES.
MISCELLANIES 
EMBRACING
REVIEWS, ESSAYS, AND ADDRESSES,
BY THE LATE
THOMAS CHALMERS, D.D. & LL.D.
NEW YORK:
ROBERT CARTER & BROTHERS,
No. 2 8 5 BROADWAY.
1851.








CONTENTS.
PAGE
Memoir of Dr. Chalmers.                                                  5
A Sermon, Preached in Morningside Free Church, June 6, I847, being the Sabbath immediately after the funeral of Thomas Chalmers, D.D., by the Rev. John
Bruce, A.M.                                                            25
The Example of our Saviour a Guide and an Authority in the Establishment of
Charitable Institutions.33
On the necessity of uniting Prayer with Performance for the Success of Missions. 52
The Influence of Parochial Associations for the Moral and Spiritual Good of Mankind.64
On the Consistency of the Legal and Voluntary Principles, and the Joint Support
which they might render to the Cause both of Christian and Common Education  84
Considerations on the System of Parochial Schools in Scotland, and on the Advantage of Establishing them in Large Towns.. 100
On the Technical Nomenclature of Theology; being the Substance of an Argument
contributed to " The Christian Instructor" in 1813..... 115
On the Efficacy of Missions, as conducted by the Moravians; being the Substance
of an Argument contributed to " The Eclectic Review" in 1815.... 30
On the Style and Subjects of the Pulpit; being the Substance of an Argument contributed to "The Christian Instructor" in 1811.. 155
On the Difference between Spoken and Written Language; being the Subject of
an Argument contributed to " The Eclectic Review " in 1816.. 168
Remarks on Cuvier's Theory of the Earth, in Extracts from a Review of that Theory
which was contributed to "The Christian Instructor" in 1814.... 180
-,- eech delivered in the General Assembly of 1833, on a Proposed Modification of'the Law of Patronage...........194
A Few Thoughts on the Abolition of Colonial Slavery.2. 05
Introductory Essay to The Imitation of Christ; in Three Books. By Thomas a
Kempis.213
Introductory Essay to Treatises on the Life, Walk, and Triumph of Faith. By the
Rev. W. Romaine, A.M.                                                 220
Introductory Essay to The Christian Remembrancer. By Ambrose Serle, Esq.. 230
Introductory Essay to the Christian's Great Interest. In Two Parts. By the Rev.
William Guthrie............242
Introductory Essay to The Grace and Duty of being Spiritually Minded, Declared,
and Practically Improved. By John Owen, D.D.                        251
Introductory Essay to Call to the Unconverted; Now or Never; and Fifty Reasons.
By Richard Baxter.                                                   266
Introductory Essay to the Christian's Daily Walk in Holy Security and Peace. By
the Rev. Henry Scudder..285
Introductory Essay to Tracts, by the Rev. Thomas Scott, Rector of Aston Sandford 299
Introductory Essay to Private Thoughts on Religion and a Christian Life. By
William Beveridge, D.D.                                              318




Iv                              CONTENTS.
PAGE.
Introductory Essay to the Reign of Grace, from its Rise to its Consummation. By
Abraham Booth...........                                   332
Introductory Essay to Serious Reflections on Time and Eternity. By John Shower.
And On the Consideration of our Latter End, and other Contemplations. By Six
Mathew Hale, Knt..                                                    347
Introductory Essay to the Christian's Defence against Infidelity. Consisting of,
1. Leslie's Short and Easy Method with the Deists. 2. Lyttleton's Observations
on St. Paul. 3. Doddridge's Evidences of Christianity. 4. Bates on the Divinity of The Christian Religion. 5. Owen on the Self-evidencing Light of Scripture.
6. Baxter on the Danger of Making Light of Christ.....360
Introductory Essay to the Living Temple; or, a Good Man the Temple of God.
By the Rev. John Howe. A.M.379
Introductory Essay to Select Letters of the Rev. William Romaine, A.M.. 398
Introductory Essay to a Treatise on the Faith and influence of the Gospel. By
the Rev. Archibald Hall.409
Distinction. both in Principle and Effect, between a Legal Charity for the Relief
of Indigence, and a Legal Charity for the Relief of Disease.... 424
An Historical and Critical view of the Speculative Philosophy of Europe in the
Nineteenth Century. By J. D. Morell, A.M.446
Political Economy of a Famine.                                         503




BRIEF  MEMOIR  OF  DR, CHALMERS,
THOMAS CHALMERS was born at Anstruther, in Fife, on
the 17th of March, 1780, and was early sent to study at
St. Andrew's University. From traditions still plentiful
in the North, his college career must have been distinguished by some of his subsequent peculiarities-energy,
good humor, companionableness, and ascendency over
others. And it was then that his passion for the physical
sciences was first developed. He studied mathematics,
chemistry, and some branches of natural history, with
more than youthful enthusiasm, and with such success:
that besides assisting his own professor he made a narrow escape from the mathematical chair in Edinburgh.
For these early pursuits he never lost a lingering taste,
and in the summer holidays of his mellow age, it was his
delight to give lectures to youthful audiences on electricity
and the laws of chemical combination. His attainments
in these fields of knowledge were not those of a mere
amateur; but in earlier life had all the system and security of an accomplished philosopher.  And though for
some years they engrossed him too much, they afterwards helped him  amazingly. Mathematics especially,
gave him the power of severe and continuous thinking;
and enabled him, unseduced by a salient fancy, to follow
each recondite speculation to its curious landing-place,
and each high argument to its topmost stronghold. And




Vi          BRIEF MEMOIR OF DR. CHALMERS.
whilst this stern discipline gave a stability to his judgment
and a steadiness to his intellect, such as few men of exuberant imagination have ever enjoyed, the facts and laws
of the natural sciences furnished that imagination with its
appropriate wealth. They supplied the imagery often
gorgeous and august, sometimes brilliant and dazzling, by
which in after days he made familiar truths grander or
clearer than they had ever been before; and, linked together by a genius mighty in analogies, they formed the
rope-ladder by which he scaled pinnacles of dazzling elevation, and told down to wondering listeners, the new
panorama which stretched around him. Consecrated and
Christianized, his youthful science reappeared and was
laid on the altar of religion in the Astronomical Discourses
and Natural Theology.
The first place where he exercised his ministry was
Cavers, in the South of Scotland, where he was helper to
the aged minister. It was here that he made the acquaintance of Charters of Wilton-a minister remarkable
for this, that he did not preach anything which he did not
understand. He did not fully understand the Gospel, and
he did not fully preach it; but those moral truths and personal duties which he did comprehend, he enforced with
a downrightness, a simplicity and minuteness which cannot be sufficiently admired.  To latest existence Dr.
Chalmers retained a profound respect for the practical
wisdom and lively sense of this Scottish Epictetus; and
though it is comparing the greater with the less, those
who have heard him in his more familiar sermons-discoursing the matter with a village audience, or breaking
it down to the unlettered hearers of the West Port or the
Dean-were just listening to old Charters of Wilton, revived in a more affectionate and evangelical version.
In May, 1803, he was settled in the rural parish of Kilmany. This was to his heart's content. It brought him
back to his native county. It gave him an abundance of




BRIEF MEMOIR OF DR. CHALMERS.      Vii
leisure. It brought him near the manse of Flisk, and beside a congenial and distinguished naturalist. It was the
country, with the clear stars above and the glorious hills
around him; and it allowed him to wander all day long,
hammer in hand and botanical box on his shoulders, chipping the rocks, and ransacking the glens, and cultivating
a kindlv acquaintance with the outlandish peasantry.
But all this while, though a minister, he was ignorant of
essential Christianity. There was in nature much that
pleased his taste, and he knew very well the quickened
step and the glistening eye of the eagle collector, as he
pounces on some rare crystal or quaint and novel flowev.
But as yet no Bible text had made his bosom flutter, and
he had not hidden in his heart sayings which he had detected with delight and treasured up like pearls. And
though his nature was genial and benevolent-though he
had his chosen friends and longed to elevate lhis parishioners to a higher level of intelligence, and domestic comfort, and virtuous enjoyment —he had not discovered any
Being possessed of such paramount claims and overwhelming attractions as to make it end enough to live
and labor for His sake.  But that discovery he made
while writing for an Encyclopaedia an article on Christianity. The death of a relation is said to have saddened
his mind into more than usual thoughtfulness, and whilst
engaged in the researches which his task demanded, the
scheme of God was manifested to his astonished understanding, and the Son of God was revealed to his admiring and adoring affections. The Godhead imbodied in
the person and exemplified in the life of the Saviour, the
remarkable arrangement for the removal and annihilation
of sin, a gratuitous pardon as the germ of piety and the
secret of spiritual peace-these truths flung a brightness
over his field of view, and accumulated in wonder and
endearment round the Redeemer's person.  He found
himself in sudden possession of an instrument potent to




Viii        BRIEF MEMOIR OF DR. CHALMERS.
touch, and, in certain circumstances, omnipotent to transform the hearts of men; and exulted to discover a Friend
all-worthy and divine, to whom he might dedicate his
every faculty, and in serving whom he would most effectually subserve the widest good of man. And ignorant of
their peculiar phraseology, almost ignorant of their history, by the direct door of the Bible itself he landed on
the theology of' the Reformers and the Puritans; and ere
ever he was aware, his quickened and concentrated faculties were intent on reviving and ennobling the old Evangelism.
The heroism with which he avowed his change, and
the fervor with which lie proclaimed the newly-discovered
Gospel, made a mighty stir in the quiet country around
Kilmany; and at last the renown of this upland Boanerges began to spread over Scotland, till, in 1815, the
Town Council of Glasgow invited him to come and be
the minister of their Tron Church and parish. He came,
and in that city for eight years sustained a series of the
most brilliant arguments and overpowering appeals in behalf of vital godliness which devotion has ever kindled or
eloquence ever launched into the flaming atmosphere of
human thought. And though the burning words and meteor fancies were to many no more than a spectacle-the
crash and sparkle of an illumination which exploded
weekly, and lit up the Tron Church into a dome of colored fire —they were designed by their author, and they
told like a weekly bombardment. Into the fastnesses of
aristocratic hauteur and commercial self-sufficiency —into
the airy battlements of elegant morality and irreligious
respectability, they sent showering the junipers of hot
conviction; and in hundreds of consciences were mighty
to the pulling down of strong-holds.  And though the
effort was awful —though in each paroxysmal climax, as
his aim pointed more and yet more loftily, he poured forth
his very soul —for the Gospel, and love to men, and zeal




BRIEF MEMOIR OF DR. CHALMERS.        ix
for God now mingled with his being, and formed his temperament, his genius, and his passion-though he himself
was his own artillery, and in these self-consuming sermons
was rapidly blazing away that holocaust-himself-the
effort was sublimely successful. In the cold philosophy
of the Eastern capital and the coarse earthliness of the
Western a breach was effected, and in its Bible dimensions and its sovereign insignia the Gospel triumphant
went through. Though the labors of Love and Balfour
had been blessed to the winning of many, it was not till
in the might of commanding intellect and consecrated reason Chalmers came up-it was not till then that the citadel yielded, and evangelical doctrine effected its lodgment
in the meditative and active mind of modern Scotland;
and whatever other influences may have worked together,.
it was then and there that the battle of a vitalized Christianity was fought and won. Patrons converted or overawed, evangelical majorities in Synods and Assemblies,
Church of Scotland Missions, the two hundred additional
chapels, the Disruption, the Free Church, an earnest ministry and a liberal laity, are the trophies of this good soldier, and the splendid results of that Glasgow campaign.
From that high service, worn, but not weary, he was
fain to seek relief in an academic retreat. Again his native county offered an asylum, and in the University of
St. Andrew's, and its chair of Moral Philosophy, he spent
five years of calmer but not inglorious toil. Omitting that
psychology, which in Scottish colleges is the great staple
of moral philosophy lectures, with his characteristic intentness he advanced direct to those prime questions which
affect man as a responsible being, and instead of dried specimens from ancient cabinets, instead of those smoked and
dusty virtues which have lain about since the time of
Socrates and Seneca-instead of withered maxims from a
pagan text, he took his code of morals fresh from Heaven's statute-book. It is not enough to say, that into his
B2




X            BRIEF MEMOIR OF DR. CHALMERS.
system of morality he flung all his heart and soul. He
threw in himself-but he threw something better-he
threw the Gospel, and for the first time in a Northern
University was taught an evangelized ethics-a system
with a motive as well as a rule —a system instinct with
the love of God, and buoyant with noble purposes. And
in the warm  atmosphere of his crowded class-roomcaught up by enthusiastic and admiring listeners the contagion spread; and as they passed from before his chair,
the elite of Scottish youth, Urquhart, Duff, and Adam,
issued forth on the world, awake to the chief end of man,
and sworn to life-long labors in the cause of Christ.
Too often a school for sceptics —when Chalmers was professor, the ethic class became a mission college-the citadel of living faith, and the metropolis of active philanthrophy; and whilst every intellect expanded to the vastness and grandeur of his views, every susceptible spirit
carried away a holy and generous impulse from his own
noble and transfusive nature.
And then they took him to Edinburgh College, and
made him Professor of Theology. In the old-established
times this was the top of the pyramid-the highest post
which Presbyterian Scotland knew-and like Newton to
the Mathematic chair in Cambridge, his pre-eminent fitness bore Chalmers into the Edinburgh chair of divinity.
And perhaps that Faculty never owned such a combination as the colleagues, Welsh and Chalmers. Alike men
of piety-alike men of lofty integrity, and in their public
career distinguished by immaculate purity-the genius
and talents of the one were a supplement to those of the
other. Popular and impassioned-a declaimer in the
desk, and often causing his class-room to ring again with
the fine phrensy of his eloquence, Chalmers was the man
of power. Academic and reserved-adhering steadfastly
to the severe succession of his subjects, and handling them
earnestly but calmly —Welsh was the man of system.




BRIEF MEMOIR OF DR. CHALMERS.       xi
Ideal and impetuous, the one belleld the truth imbodied
in some glorious fancy, and as the best and briefest argument tore the curtain and bade you look and see. Contemplative and cautious, the other was constantly rejecting the illustrations which pass for arguments, and putting the staff of his remorseless logic through the illusions
of poetry when substituted for the deductions of reason or
the statements of history. Sanguine and strenuous, the
one was impatient of doubts and delays; and if reasoning
failed had recourse *to rhetoric;-if the regular passageboat refused his dispatches, he at once bound them to a
rocket and sent them right over the river. Patient and
acute, the other was willing, to wait, and was confident
that truth if understood must sooner or later win the day.
Ardent and generous, the panegyric of the one was an inspiring cordial; vigilant and faithful, the criticism of the
other was a timely caveat. A man of might, the one
sought to deposit great principles, and was himself the
example of great exploits. A man of method, the other
was minute in his directions, and painstaking in his lessons, and frequent in his rehearsals and reviews. The
one was the man of grandeur; the other the man of grace.
The one was the valcano; the other was the verdure on
its side. The one was the burning light; the other the
ground-glass which made it softer shine. Each had his
own tint and magnitude; but the two close-united made
a double star, which looked like one; and now that they
have set together, who will venture to predict the rising
of such another?
For thirty years it had been the great labor of Dr.
Chalmers to popularize the Scottish Establishment. A
religion truly national, enthroned in the highest places,
and a beatific inmate in the humblest homes-a Church
which all the people loved, and which provided for them
all-a Church with a king for its nursing father, and a
nation for its members-this was the splendid vision




Xii         BRIEF MEMOIR OF DR. CHALMERS.
which he had once seen in Isaiah, and longed to behold
in Scotland. It was to this that the herculean exertions
of the pastor, and anon the professor, tended. By his
great ascendency he converted the populous and plebeian
parish of St. John's into an isolated district-with an elder
and a deacon to every family, and a Sabbath school for
every child-and had well nigh banished pauperism from
within its borders. And though it stood a reproachful
oasis, only shaming the wastes around it, his hope and
prayer had been that its order and beauty would have
said to other ministers and sessions, Go ye and do likewise. And then the whole drift of his prelections was to
send his students forth upon the country ardent evangelists and affectionate pastors-indoctrinated with his own
extensive plans, and inflamed with his own benevolent
purposes. And then, when for successive years hie crusaded the country, begging from the rich 200 churches
for the poor, and went up to London to lecture on the establishment and extension of Christian Churches, it was
still the same golden future-a Church national but Christian, endowed but independent, established but freewhich inspirited his efforts, and awoke from beneath their
ashes the fires of earlier days. And when at last the delusion of a century was dissolved —when the courts of law
changed their own mind, and revoked the liberty of the
Scottish Church-much as he loved its old establishment
-much as he loved his Edinburgh professorship, and
much more as he loved his 200 churches-with a single
movement of his pen he signed them all away. He had
reached his grand climacteric, and many thought that,
smitten down by the shock, his gray hairs would descend
in sorrow to the grave. It was time for him " to break
his mighty heart and die." But they little knew the man.
They forgot that spirit which, like the trodden palm, had
so often sprung erect and stalwart from a crushing overthrow. We saw him that November. We saw him in




BRIEF MEMOIR OF DR. CHALMERS.        Xiii
its Convocation-the sublimest aspect in which we ever
saw the noble man. The ship was fast aground, and as
they looked over the bulwarks, through tile mist and the
breakers, all on board seemed anxious and sad. Never
had they felt prouder of their old first-rate, and never had
she ploughed a braver path than when-contrary to all
the markings in the chart, and all the experience of former
voyages-she dashed on this fatal bar. The stoutest were
dismayed, and many talked of taking to the fragments,
and, one by one, trying for the nearest shore; when
calmer because of the turmoil, and with the exultation of
one who saw safety ahead, the voice of this dauntless
veteran was heard propounding his confident scheme.
Cheered by his assurance, and inspired by his example,
they set to work, and that dreary winter was spent in
constructing a vessel with a lighter draught and a simpler
rigging, but large enough to carry every true-hearted man
who ever trod the old ship's timbers. Never did he work
more blithely, and never was there more of athletic ardor
in his looks than during the six months that this ark was
a building-though every stroke of the mallet told of
blighted hopes and defeated toil, and the unknown sea
before him. And when the signal-psalm announced the
new vessel launched, and leaving the old galley high
and dry on the breakers, the banner unfurled, and showed
the covenanting blue still spotless, and the symbolic bush
still burning, few will forget the renovation of his youth
and the joyful omen of his shining countenance. It was
not only the rapture of his prayers, but the radiance of
his spirit which repeated " God is our RefugeP"*  It is
something heart-stirring to see the old soldier take the
field, or the old trader exerting every energy to retrieve
his shattered fortunes; but far the finest spectacle of the
moulting eagle was Chalhners with his hoary locks beginning life anew. But indeed he was not old. They who
* The psalm with which the Free Assembly opened.




Xiv          BRIEF MEMOIR OF DR. CHALMERS.
can fill their veins with every hopeful healthful thing
around them —those who can imbibe the sunshine of the
future, and transfuse life fiom realities not come as yettheir blood need never freeze. And his bosom heaved
with all the newness of the Church's life and all the bigness of the Church's plans. And, best of all, those who
wait upon the Lord are always young. This was the
reason why, on the morning of that Exodus, he did not
totter forth from the old Establishment a blank and palsystricken man; but with flashing eye snatched up his
palmer-staff, and as he stamped it on the ground all Scotland shook, and answered with a deep God-speed to the
giant gone on pilgrimage.
From that period till he finished his course, there was
no fatigue in his spirit and no hesitation in his gait. Relieved from hollow plaudits and from hampering patronage, far ahead of the sycophants who used to raise the
worldly dust around him, and surrounded by men in whose
sincerity and intelligent sympathy his spirit was refreshed,
and in whose wisdom and affection he confided and rejoiced, he advanced along his brightening path, with uprightness and consistency in his even mien, and the peace
of God in his cheerful countenance. His eye was not dim
nor his force abated. On the 14th of May we passed
our last morning with him. It was his first visit to London after the Hanover Square Ovation, nine years ago.
But there were now no coronets nor mitres at the door.
Besides one or two of his own family, J. D. Morell, Baptist Noel, and Isaac Taylor were his guests. And he was
happy. There was neither the exhaustion of past excitement nor the pressure of future engagements and
anxieties in his look. It was a serene and restful morning, and little else than earnest kindness looked through
the summer of his eyes. The day before, he had given
his evidence before the Sites' Committee of the House
of Commons, and, reminded that, according to the days




BRIEF MEMOIR OF DR. CHALMERS.        XV
of the week, it was twenty years that day since he
had opened Edward Irving's church, most of the conversation reverted to his early friend.  There was a
mildness in his tone and a sweetness in his mlanner,
and we could now almost fancy a halo around his
head which might have'warned us of what was coming.
He preached all the Sabbaths of his sojourn in England,
willingly and powerfully, and on the last Sabbath of May
he was again at home. That evening he is said to have
remarked to a friend that he thought his public work
completed. He had seen the Disruption students through
the four years of their course. He had seen the Sustentation Fund organized. He had been to Parliament and
borne his testimony in high places. To-morrow he would
give in the College Report to the Free Assembly; and
after that he hoped to be permitted to retire and devote to
the West Port poor his remaining days. He was willing
to decrease, and close his career as a city missionary.
But just as he was preparing to take the lower room, the
Master said, "Come up hither," and took him up beside
himself. Next morning all that met the gaze of love was
the lifeless form —in stately repose on the pillow, as one
who beheld it said, " a brow not cast in the mould;, the
sons of men."  Like his friends, Thomson, M'Crie, Welsh,
and Abercrombie, that stout heart which had worked so
hard and swelled with so many vast emotions, had gently
yielded, and to his ransomed spirit opened heaven's nearest portal.
He possessed in highest measure that divinest faculty
of spirit, the power of creating its own world; but it was
not a poet creating worlds to look at: it was the reformer and philanthropist in haste to people and possess
them. His was the working earnestness which is impatient till its conceptions are realities and its hopes imbodied in results. For example, he took his idea of
Christianity, not from books, nor from its living speci



XVi         BRIEF 3MEMOIR OF DR. CHALMERS.
mens; for the Christianity of books is often trite, and the
Christianity of living men is often arrogant and vulgar;
but he took his type of Christianity from his Divine
Original-benignant, majestic, and God-like as he found
it in the Bible-and gave this refined and lofty idea perpetual presidency in his congenial Imagination. And
what sort of place was that? Why, it was quite peculiar.
It was not like Jeremy Taylor's-a fairy grotto where
you looked up through the woodbine ceiling and saw the
sky with its moonlit clouds and the angels moving among
themn; or listed the far-off waterfall now dying like an oldworld melody, or swelling, powerfully like a prophecy
when the end is near. Nor was it like Foster's-a donjon
on a frowning steep-where the moat was black, and the
winds were cold, and the sounds were not of earth, and
iron gauntlets clanged on the deaf unheeding door. Nor
was it his favorite Cowper's-a cottage with its summer
joy, where the swallow nestled in the eaves and the
leveret sported on the floor-where the sunbeam kissed
the open Bible, and Homer lay below the table till the
morning hymn was sung. Nor was it the Imagination
of his dear companion, Edward Irving-a mountain-sanctuary at even-tide, where the spirits of his sainted sires
would come to him, and martyr tunes begin to float through
the duskier aisles, and giant worthies enter from the
mossy graves and fill with reverend mien the ancient
pewst More real than the first-more happy than the
second-more lordly than the third, it was more modern
and more lightsome than the last. It was a mansion airy,
vast, and elegant-an open country all round it and sunshine all through it —not crowded with curiosities nor
strewed with trinkets and toys-but massy in its proportions and stately in its ornaments-the lofty dwelling of
a princely mind. And into this imagination its happy
owner took the Gospel and inshrined and enthroned it.
That Gospel was soon the better Genius of the place. It




BRIEF MEMOIR OF DR. CHALMERS.       XVii
gave the aspect of broad welcome and bright expectation
to its threshold. It shed a rose-tint on its marble and
breathed the air of heaven through its halls. And like an
Alhambra with a seraph for its occupant, it looked forth
from the lattice brighter than the noon that looked in.
Yes, it was no common home which the Gospel found
when it first consecrated that lofty mind; and it was no
common day in the history of the Church when that spirit
first felt the dignity and gladness of this celestial inmate.
Powers and resources were devoted to his service-not
needed by that Gospel, but much needed by Gospel-rejecting man. And, not to specify the successive offerings
laid at its feet by one of the most gifted as well as grateful of devotees, we would mention his Parochial Sermons
and his Astronomical Discourses. In the one we have
the Gospel made so palpable that the simplest and slowest hardly can miss it; in the other we find it made so
majestic that the most intellectual and learned cannot but
admire it. In the one we have Christianity brought down
to the common affairs of life; in the other we have it exalted above the heavens. In the one we see the Gospel
in its world-ward direction, and starting from the cradle
at Bethlehem, follow it to the school and the fireside and
the dying bed; in the other we view it in its God-ward
direction, and following its fiery chariot far beyond the
galaxy, lose it in the light inaccessible. In the one we
have existence evangelized; in the other we have the
Gospel glorified. The one is the primer of Christianity;
the other is its epic.
But it was not in mere sermons that his imagination
burned and shone. His schemes of beneficence-his plans
for the regeneration of his country took their vastness and
freshness from the idealism of a creative mind. At first
sight they had all the look of a romance-impossible,
transcendental, and unreal. And had the inventive talent
been his only faculty, they would have continued roman3




XVl1i        BRIEF MEMOIR OF DR. CHALMERS.
tic projects and nothing more;-a new Atlantis, a happy
valley, or a fairy-land. And if he had been like most men
of poetic mood, he would have deprecated any attempt to
reduce his gorgeous abstractions to dull actualities. But
Chalmers was never haunted by this fear. He had no
fear of carnalizing his conceptions, but longed to see them
clothed in flesh and blood. He had no tenderness for his
day-dreams, but would rather see them melt away, and
leave in their place a waking world as good and lovely
as themselves. Vivid as was his fancy, his working faculty was no less vehement; and his constructive instinct
compelled him to set to work as soon as the idea of an
institution or an effort had once fairly filled his soul. And
these exertions he made with an intensity as irresistible
as it was contagious. Like the statesman who, in the
union of a large philosophy and a gorgeous fancy, was his
parallel —he might have divided his active career into
successive " fits," or " manias," —a preaching fit, a pastoral fit, a fit of Church-reforming, a fit of Church-extending. And such transforming possessions were these fits
-so completely did they change his whole nature into
the image of the object at which he aimed, that the Apostle's words,'" this one thing I do," he might have altered
to, " this one thing I am." There was no division of his
strength-no division of his mind; but with a concentration of mighty powers which made the spectacle sublime,
he moved to the onset with lip compressed and massy
tread, and victory foreseen in the glance of his eagle eye.
And like all men of overmastering energy-like all men
of clear conception and valiant purpose-like Nelson and
Napoleon, and others born to be commanders-over and
above the assurance given by his frequent success, there
was a spell in his audacity-a fascination in his sanguine
chivalry. Many were drawn after him, carried helpless
captives by his force of character; and though, at first,
* Edmund Burke.




BRIEF MEMOIR OF DR. CHALMERS.      XiX
many found that it required some faith to follow him, like
the great genius of modern warfare, experience showed
that for moral as well as military conquests, there may
be the deepest wisdom in dazzling projects, and rapid
movements, and reckless daring. It was owing to the
width of his field, and the extent of his future, and, above
all, the greatness of his faith, that he was the most venturesome of philanthropists, and also the most victorious.
The width of his field-for if he was operating on St.
John's, he had his eye to Scotland-if he was making an
effort on his own Establishment, he had an eye to Christendom. And the extent of his future —for every man
who is greater than his coevals is a vaticination of some
age to come-and, with Chalmers, the struggle was to
speed this generation on and bring it abreast of that wiser
and holier epoch of which he himself was the precocious
denizen. And the greatness of his faith-for he believed
that whatever is scriptural is politic. He believed that
whatever is in the Bible will yet be in the world. And
he believed that all things were coming which God has
promised, and that all things are practicable which God
bids us perform.
But we shall misrepresent the man, unless the prime
feature in our memory's picture be his wondrous goodness. It was not so much in his capacious intellect, or
his soaring fancy, that he surpassed all his fellows, as in
his mighty heart. Big to begin with, the Gospel made it
expand till it took in the human family. " Good-will to
man" was the inscription on his serene and benignant
countenance; and if at times the shadow of some inward
anxiety darkened it, or the cloud of a momentary displeasure lowered over it, all that was needful to brighten
it into its wonted benignity, was the sight of something
human. Deeply impressed with our nature's wrong estate
-a firm and sorrowful believer in its depravity and desperate wickedness-the sadness of his creed gave nothing




XX          BRIEF MEMIOIR OF DR. CHALMERS.
bitter to his spirit and nothing sombre to his bearing.
Like Him who best knew what was in man, but who
was so bent on making him better, that the kindness of
his errand counteracted the keenness of his intuition, and
filled his mouth with gracious words-there was so much
inherent warmth in his temperament, and so much of
heaven-imparted kindliness in his Christianity, that love
to man was his vital air, and good offices to man his daily
bread. And how was his ruling passion —how was his
philanthropy displayed? Not in phrases of ecstatic fondness- for though a citizen of the world he was also a
Scotchman-in the region of the softer feelings sequestered, proud and shy —and, except the " my dear sir," of
friendly talk, and the cordial shake of eager recognition,
he was saving of the commonplace expressions of endearment, and did not depreciate friendship's currency by too
lavish employment of its smaller coin. He must have
been a special friend to whom he subscribed himself as
anything more addicted than  "Yours very truly."  Nor
did his warmth come out in tears of tenderness and the
usual utterances of wounded feeling; for in these he was
not so profuse and prompt as many. How did it appear?
On a wintry day, how do we know that the hidden stove
is lit, but because the frost on the panes is thawing, and
life is tingling back into our dead fingers and leaden feet?
And it was by the glow that spread around wherever Dr.
Chalmers entered,-by the gayety which sparkled in every
eye and the happiness which bounded in every breast,by the mellow temperature to which the atmosphere suddenly ascended,-it was by this that you recognized your
nearness to a focus of philanthropy. How did it appear?
How do we know that that huge Newfoundland, pacing
leisurely about the lawn, has a propensity for saving
drowning people, but just because the moment yon playing child capsizes into the garden pond, he plunges after,
and lands him dripping on the gravel? And it was by




BRIEF MEMOIR OF DR. CHALMERS.       x1i
the instinctive bound with which he sprang to the relief
of misery,-the importunity with which, despite his population and his pauper theories, he entreated for such emergencies as the Highland distress, and the liberality with
which he relieved the successive cases of poverty and woe
that came to his private ear and eye,-it was because
wherever grief or suffering was, there was Dr. Chalmers,
that you knew him to be a man of sympathies. But you
might know it in other ways. Read the five-and-twenty
volumes of his works, and say what are they but a magazine of generous thoughts for the elevation, and genial
thoughts for the comfort of mankind qX What are they
but a collection of pleadings with power on the behalf of
weakness; with opulence on the behalf of penury; with
Christian intelligence on the behalf of outcast ignorance
and home-grown paganism?-What are they but a series
of the most skilful prescriptions for moral misery,-a good
and wise physician's legacy to a disordered world, which
he dearly loved and did his best to heal q And what was
the succession of his services during the last thirty years?
For what, short of God's glory, but the good of man, was
he spending his intellect, his ascendency over others, his
constitution, and his time 1 We have spoken of his colossal strength and his flaming energy; and the idea we
now retain of his life-long career is just an engine of highest pressure pursuing the iron path of an inflexible philanthropy, and speeding to the terminus of a happier clime a
lengthy train, of the poor, the halt, the blind; and we pity
those who, in the shriek, the hurry, and the thunder of the
transit-the momentary warmth and passing indignation
of the man, forget the matchless prowess of the Christian,
and the splendid purpose of his living sacrifice. And yet
our wonder is, that with such a weight upon his thoughts,
and such a work on his hands, he found so much time for
specific kindness, and took such care to rule his spirit.
Like the apostle on whom devolved the care of. all the




XXIi         BRIEF MEMOIR OF DR. CHALMERS.
churches, but who in one letter sends messages to or from
six-and-thirty friends, there was no favor so little, and no
friend so obscure, that he ever forgot him. If, in a moment of absence, he omitted some wonted civility, or, by
an untimely interruption, was betrayed into a word of
sharpness, lie showed an excessive anxiety to redress the
wrong, and heal the unwilling wound. And glorious as
it was to see him on the Parnassus of some transcendent
inspiration, or rather on the Pisgah of some sacred and
enraptured survey, it was more delightful to behold him
in self-unconscious lowliness-still great, but forgetful of
his greatness-by the hearth of some quiet neighbor, or in
the bosom of his own family, or among friends who did
not make an open show of him, out of the good treasure
of his heart bringing forth nothing but good things. With
all the puissant combativeness and intellectual prowess
essential to such a lofty reason, it was lovely to see the
gentle play of the lion-hearted man. With all his optimism-his longings after a higher scale of piety, and a
nobler style of Christianity, it was beautiful to see how
contented he was wvith every friend as he is, and with
what magnetic alertness all that was Christian in himself
darted forth to all that was Christian in a brother. And
above all, with his wholesale beneficence, the abundance
of his labors, the extent of his regards, and the vastness
of his projects, it was instructive to see his affections so
tender, his friendships so firm, and his kind offices so
thoughtful and untiring.
Perhaps there never was a theologian who approached
a given text with less appearance of system or pre-conception. No passage wore to him a suspicious or precarious
look, and instead of handling it uneasily, as if it were
some deadly thing, he took it up securely and frankly,
and dealt with it in all the confidence of a good understanding. Some Scripture interpreters have no system.
To them all texts are isolated, and none interprets an



BRIEF MEMOIR OF DR. CHALMERS.      XXi11
other. And the system of others is too scanty. It is not
co-extensive with the whole counsel of God. It interprets
some passages, but leaves others unexplained. In the
highest sense, Dr. Chalmers was systematic. He justly
assumed that a revelation from God must be pervaded by
some continuous truth; and that a clue to its general
meaning must be sought in some ultimate fact, some selfconsistent and all-reconciling principle. To him the Gospel was a REVELATION of RIGHTEOUSNESS; and MAN'S
NEED and GOD's GIFT were the simple elements into
which his theology resolved itself. In the various forms
of man's vacuity and God's fulness, man's blindness and
the Spirit's enlightening, the carnal enmity and the supplanting power of a new affection, the hollowness of a
morality without godliness, and the purifying influence of
the Christian faith, these primary truths were constantly
re-appearing; and just because his first principles were
so few, they suited every case, and because his system
was so simple, he felt it perfectly secure. Instead of
forcing locks, he had found the master-key, and went
freely out and in. And in this we believe that he was
right. From want of spirituality, from want of study or
capacity, we may fail to catch it; but there is a Scriptural
unity. So far as the Bible is a record, its main fact is
one; so far as it is a revelation, its chief doctrine is one;
so far as it is the mind of God exhibited to fallen man, its
prevailing tone and feeling are one. And having in comprehension of mind ascertained, and in simplicity of faith
accepted this unity —the revealed truth and the Scriptural
temperament, Dr. Chalmers walked at liberty. It was
his systematic strength which gave him textual freedom;
and if for one forenoon he would dilate on a single duty
till it seemed to expand into the whole of man, or on one
doctrine till it bulked into a Bible, it was only a portion
of the grand scheme passing under the evangelic microscope. It was the lamp of the one cardinal truth lighting




Xxiv        BRIEF MEMOIR OF DR. CHALMERS.
up a particular topic. And those who, on the other hand,
objected to his preaching as not sufficiently evangelical,
were only less evangelical than he. With many the Gospel is a tenet; with Dr. Chalmers the Gospel was a pervasion. The sermons of Dr. Chalmers were not stuck
over with quoted texts, but every paragraph had its Scriptural seasoning. His whole being held the Gospel in solution, and beyond most text-reciters, it was his anxiety
to saturate with its purest truth ethical philosophy and
political economy, daily life and personal conduct, as well
as retired meditation and Sabbath-day religion.
We would only, in conclusion, commemorate the Lord's
great goodness to his servant in allowing him such a comnpleted work and finished course. Many a great man has
had a good thing in his heart; a temple, or some august
undertaking; but it was still in his heart when he died.
And many more have just put to their hand, when death
struck them down, and a stately fragment is all their monumnent. But there is a sublime and affecting conclusiveness in the work of Dr. Chalmers. What more could the
Church or the world have asked from him? It will take
the Church a generation to learn all that he has taught
it, and the world a century to reach that point from which
he was translated. And yet he has left all his meaning
clear, and all his plans complete. And all that completed
work is of the best kind; all gold and silver and precious
stones. To activity and enterprise he has read a new lesson. To disinterested but foreseen goodness he has supplied a new motive. To philanthropy he has given new
impulse, and to the pulpit new inspiration. And whilst
he has added another to the short catalogue of this world's
great men, he has gone up another and a majestic onlooker to the Cloud of Witnesses.




A SERMO  N,
BY
REV. JOHN BRUCE, A.M.,
FREE ST. ANDREW VS CHURCH, EDINBURGH.
[Preached in Moringside Free Church, June 6, 1847, being the Sabbath immediately after the funeral of THOMAS CHALMERS, D. D., LL. D., &c.,
&c., &c.]
ON the morning of Monday the 31st of May, there died, and
on the afternoon of Friday the 4th of June, there was buried, the
greatest and most noted man in Scotland. It is nearly three cenw
turies since she knew one equally great and honored,-one more
revered when living, more mourned when gone. In love to
Scotland God gave her Knox; and when his work was done, He
gave him a peaceful death-bed, an honored tomb, and a place in
the memory of every true Scottish heart for many generations.
In love to Scotland, in these later days, God raised up Chalmers
to do a mighty work and wage a glorious warfare; and when his
work was ended, he gave him as calm a dismissal, as hallowed a
grave, and as deep a place in the heart of his country,-in the
memory of his race.
Over neither do we sorrow as those who have no hope. They
are not dead, they have but entered on their better life; they
have not withered up and passed away, they are putting on new
blossoms in a more genial clime, preparing for the day of the
great fruit-bearing, when the resurrection-sun shall rise. They
rest from their labors, and their works do follow them. What a
meeting must that have been which has now taken place between
these two mighty souls!-what a fellowship must that be which




26                   FUNERAL SERMON.
is now enjoyed as they sit together under the shade of the tree of
life, or climb the bright slopes of the everlasting hills! Forever
with each other, and forever with the Lord.
Summoned away at midnight in a moment, Dr. Chalmers has
left us no death-bed testimony, has bequeathed us no parting
counsels. But his counsels had been fully spoken and written
long before; and his whole life was one grand testimony. What
a testimony! From the day that he knew the grace of God in
truth, his life became a consecrated thing,-himself a " living sacrifice."  It was " Corban,"-a gift,-the life of one who knew
that he was not his own, that he had been purchased by another
for his service. The whole energy of his mighty spirit, the whole
capacities of his gifted mind, the whole warmth of his loving
heart, were gladly dedicated to his new and better Masterthrown unreservedly into his cause. His days were days of
labor, unlntermitted and untiring. His was a lifetime of care
and toil and conflict; yet it was well-laid-out care, fruit-bearing
toil, and successful conflict. There was a strength and untiringness of energy about him that seemed almost superhuman. His
enthusiasm was of the fearless kind; his zeal never flagged; it
remained as fresh in age as in the days of his fervent manhood.
The chill of years was not on him; the innate fire of his spirit
seemed to charm it away.  The activity of the ever-moving
power in him was only equalled by its steadiness and depth. It
was constant, not fitful. It was vast, yet it was strangely equable. It had in it the strength of the torrent, but the depth of the
wave.
He was a man of many thoughts, of many schemes, of many
deeds,-all of them large and lofty.  Their circle was of no
common stretch. They ranged wide and far. Beyond the blue
hills of Scotland; beyond the ocean-girdle that hems Britain in
his soul went abroad and his sympathies spread themselves out
over the wide compass of earth. In his views there was no nar
rowness. In his nature there was no littleness. All was massive
and kingly. He was not like one looking upward from the bot



FUNERAL SERMON.                     27
tom of some deep glen upon the sunny slopes around him, thinking nought of anything beyond their limit; but like one looking
downward from some Alpine eminence upon a whole world beneath him; and this not simply as one admiring what he saw, but
as one who was a part of it, who was knit to every atom of it,
who felt himself " a debtor" to all who dwelt upon its surface,Jew or Greek, Barbarian, Scythian, bond or free.
There was a wonderful fruitfulness and elasticity about him, so
that nothing could shut him up or lead him to despair. He was
rich in resources. His spirit knew no dearth. Nor was this
mere ingenuity. It was more, it was something higher and more
commanding. It was fruitfulness, it was depth, it was power.
Nay more, it was bravery. For a fearless spirit was in him, and
an indomitable tenacity, that no unlikelihood could discourage nor
difficulty baffle. There was a quiet but resolute purpose about
him, from which he turned not aside, and in the execution of
which he never wearied. True representative of our ancient
Scottish chiefs, true descendant of Reformers and Covenanters,
he refused to swerve from his mark or give up the object of his
pursuit. Like Knox, his eye went over Scotland, —all Scotland,
-its cities and its villages, its plains and its moors. His heart
took in all its families,-its rich and its poor, its old, its young.
Towards every dweller in it, his desires flowed forth as to a
brother or a child, with a true longing to bless them, and with
profound commiseration for whatever he was unable to rectify or
relieve. During last winter's famine, his sympathy for the suffering was most tender; he eagerly caught at each day's intelligence to learn whether there were any signs of amelioration appearing or sufficiency of relief administered.
Over all his fellow-men his heart most truly yearned. But it
was towards the poor especially that his thoughts seemed ever to
go forth. For them he toiled and wrote, and pleaded, and planned,
and prayed. And the last great work of his life was to provide
a church and a minister, a school and a teacher, for the poor.




28                   FUNERAL SERMON.
He was permitted to see this completed, and to dispense the first
communion in that new home of the gathered outcasts.
He had often expressed a longing to withdraw from public
life, and spend the rest of his years in quiet and fellowship with
God. This he was not allowed to carry into effect. He was
taken up at once, and in the very midst of his labors. He was
called to enter into rest, but it was a higher and more glorious
rest than he had counted on. Yet his work was fully done. Of
no one could this be more truly affirmed. It was a vast work to
which he had been called, yet in the strength of his God he had
done it; no part was left undone. What work is there which we
could wish him to have undertaken that he has not accomplished?
He might be said to have died working. He was to have addressed the General Assembly next day, and had made preparations for rising early to complete his work for that occasion. He
was busp to the last. He had lost no time. He had laid out his
life well,-therein leaving us an example that we should follow
his steps,-an example of unconquerable energy, undecaying
zeal, and faithful endurance to the end.
He was a marvellous compound of simplicity and greatness, of
meekness and majesty, of modesty and manliness. He was the
most unpretending, unassuming, unobtrusive, child-like of men.
He had so much and yet so little of the child. There was nothing
in him of frivolity or levity, yet was he one of the most brightly
cheerful companions that could be met with. On his countenance
there was thoughtfulness at all times, sometimes absence and abstraction, yet ever at the same time " an under-current of deeprunning joy." No man delighted more in looking out upon the
material world in its beauty or its grandeur. He was one of
those who could say"'Tis joy to move under the bended sky,
To smell the pleasant earth and feel the winds go by."
He was so loving, so frank, so homely, so full of hope, so buoyant in his whole character, that no one who knew him could fail




FUNERAL SERMON.                    29
to be knit to him at once, soul to soul. All with him was thoroughly real and genuine, vital and full of vigorous strength,
alike in the faculties of his mind and the feelings of his heart
As one said of him, " he was the most lovable of all living men."
How strong was the influence he exercised over other men and
other minds! Yet it was a gentle and unconscious sway. It
was not the control of the whirlwind over the billows of the
deep —rude and wild in its exercise. It was the influence of the
moon over the tides, wider and stronger than the other, yet imperceptible, the influence of overshadowing genius, yet still more
the influence of his own placid and most paternal smile. The
tenacity of his friendships and the warmth of his love were wonderful, considering the immense number and variety of his acquaintances. He seemed to forget no one, and delighted above
all things to revisit the friends and scenes of other days. It was
Beza, we think, who said when he heard of Calvin's death, " Now
that Calvin is dead, life will be less sweet and death less bitter."
How many are there in our Church and land who can at this
time make these words most truly their own.
His love for divine truth was intense. His relish for the simple
Gospel of the grace of God was one of the most striking features
in his character. It was not only the theme of his sermons, but
the subject of his letters and his conversation. No man ever
preached it more freely or stated it more simply and beautifully
than he. How touchingly is this brought out in one of the extracts given in Mr. Bruce's admirable sermon, from some of Dr.
Chalmers' meditations. He thus writes,.6 What straining 1 have
had after a right understanding of God and his ways! more especially the way of salvation! Give me greatness, clearness,
fulness of understanding, O God."
He died, we may say, without a death-bed. His was not indeed the glorious ascension of Elijah in his blazing chariot, but it
was even more sudden, more unforeseen. Yet not unprepared
for. He knew in whom he had believed. To die was gain. As
a shock of corn fully ripe he came to his end. Who would not




30                   FUNERAL SERMON.
die his death? A death without pain or weariness, without languishing or decay, an instantaneous passage from a happy family
circle below to a far happier family circle above, where his large
and loving heart can now get fullest vent to itself, and where his
joy shall be forever full. Decay was not upon him, nor infirmity.
Sickness did not waste him. His strength did not slowly ebb.
His faculties did not wither up and fall into the imbecility of a
second childhood. But in the fulness of his nature and unabated
strength, in the undiminished vigor of his majestic mind, he passed
up from among us, and took his seat in the general assembly and
church of the first-born in Heaven.
He died alone. No eye but his Saviour's saw him die. No
hand but his Saviour's took hold of his in the moment of departing. Like Moses, God led him aside that he might die alone; as
if that were the most fitting as well as the most kind and gracious
way of receiving him to himself. The bitterness of death he was
not to taste; the "long day's dying" was not to "augment his
pain." No tears were to be shed around him to discompose his
parting hour. No farewells were to be heard around that solitary
couch. No voice of sorrow, no sigh of the mourner was to fall
upon his dying ear. All this his loving heart was spared. The
advancing footsteps of death he was not to hear; only the quick
summons to arise, so that he should not know that it was death
till he had landed on the shore of life. In the silence of midnight,
when all the loved ones of his circle were calmly sleeping, the
great spirit shook off its mortal wrappings and went up to the
spirits of the just made perfect. He had scarcely finished his
earthly Sabbath, and come home from worshipping in the temple
below, when he was summoned to begin the endless Sabbath in
the bright courts above.
One of earth's mighty ones has gone. The loss is vast. It
has made the world incalculably poorer. A standard-bearer has
fal}en. There is one star less in our darkening firmament. One
by one the noble-minded are departing. The great souls of the
earth are quitting it, taken away from the evil to come. For in




FUNERAL SERMON.                    31
Dr. Chalmers, there was one out of the few exceptions to Dr.
M'Crie's startling, but pregnant utterance, " in our day we have
men of great minds, but no men of great souls."
God is striking away our human props. But he is offering us
his own arm to lean upon. Woe be to us if we reject it. Thrice
blessed if we read his meaning and betake ourselves to Him.
Better than all earthly shields or weapons of war is he to the
church that seeks refuge in Him.
Our loved father is only parted for a little. We shall see him
again. We shall hear his voice again. We shall grasp his hand
again.  We shall be knit to his whole living man again, in the
realms where there is no severance of bonds, where there comes
no midnight messenger of death, where there is seen no shroud,
no coffin, no funeral procession, no heaving turf, no mouldering
grave; but one perpetual living, an endless rejoicing, an eternal
union, an unfading brightness, a day without a night, a sky without a cloud, a song without one note of sorrow to mar its perfect
harmony.








THE EXAMPLE OF OUR SAVIOUR
A GUIDE AND AN UTHORITY
IN THE
ESTABLISHMENT OF CHARITABLE INSTITUTIONS.
"Then Jesus called his disciples unto him, and said, I have compassion on the multitude, Lecause they continue with us now three days, and have nothing to eat: and I
will not send them away fasting lest they faint in the way."-MATTHEW XV. 32.
" When the people therefore saw that Jesus was not there, neither his disciples, they
also took shipping, and came to Capernaum, seeking for Jesus. And when they had
found him on the other side of the sea, they said unto him, Rabbi, when camest thou
hither! Jesus answered them, and said, Verily, verily, I say unto you, ye seek me, not
because ye saw the miracles, but because ye did eat of the loaves, and were filled."JOHN vi. 24-26.
" But when Jesus knew it, he withdrew himself from thence; and great multitudes
followed him, and he healed them all."-MATTHEW Xii. 15.
COMPASSION is that feeling which arises in the heart of a human
being, when he looks to the misery of another-which, if unmixed
with other feelings, keeps him restless and dissatisfied till the misery be done away-which prompts him to measures of relief;and at length finds its ultimate gratification in the deliverance
of its object, from that suffering which called forth the sensibility
that we are now adverting to.
But there may be other feelings excited by the very same object,
and which tend to modify or to suspend the exercise of compassion
altogether. The misery in question may be the infliction of a punishment; and our sense of justice, if it do not prevent the existence
of a sense of compassion, will at least so far keep it in check, as
to restrain us from obeying the Impulse of it. Or it may be the
pain of a severe but salutary operation; and then the sensitive
compassion which we would feel in common with children, we
do not like children follow-and just because we put it under the
control of a higher and more intelligent compassion. Or it may
be the immediate suffering of a correction, administered for the
moral good of him who is its object; and still there may be a
moral rectitude in withstanding the dictate of compassion, while
5




34              CHRIST S EXAMPLE A GROUND
we feel the emotion of it. And thus while it goes to form a revolting unloveliness of character, to have a heart unmoved by
even the slighter or more transient distresses of our common nature-yet it also goes not to impair but to perfect the character,
when all these constitutional movements are brought under the
guidance of principle, and of a virtuous and intelligent regard to
the higher interests of our species.
In a matter of charity, a man may have the intelligence without the instinct; and we to.en look to him with something of the
same dread and aversion that we do to one of those mutilated
spirits among the infernal, who are permitted to retain the energies of their nature, after all its moralities have been extinguished.
Yet that is no good reason why all our preferences should be directed to him, who has only the instinct without the intelligencewhy the question should not be looked to with the eye of discernment, as well as with an eye of tearful sensibility-why
thought and experience and wisdom should be banished fiom this
department of human affairs-why the higher powers of the mind
should not be admitted into the deliberations of charity-or, when
sense is offered as well as sympathy upon the subject, why all the
voices both of male and female sentimentalism should therefore
be formed into one mighty effort to cry it down.
There is perhaps no one agony to which by our corporeal
frame we are liable, that draws forth a readier compassion, or
leads more surely to a consequent act of relief, than the agony of
hunger. It is positively not in nature, to remain steeled against
the look of despair, or the look of pining consumptiveness, with
which it implores a relief to its cravings. There may be the
suspicion of imposture, to shut and to harden the heart; and little
do the poor among the people know, how their deadliest enemies
by far, and they who have done most to shift the flood of liberality
away fiom them, are to be found among those, who have counterfeited their sufferings, and handled their words and their sighs
deceitfully. But let there be no deceit on the one side, and no
imagination of it on the other; and it would argue a man to be a
monster, could he withstand the piercing or the plaintive cry of a
brother in the agonies of hunger. The law which would inflict
such a suffering as this, even for the worst of crimes, would, in
any humanized country, be reduced to a dead-letter for the want of
agents to carry it into execution. There would not be found, even
among the hardiest officers of a jail, men of nerve enough and
sternness enough to be faithful to the barbarity that was assigned to
them. The whole vicinity of such a place of torture, would itself
be in torture, under the consciousness of any one portion of our nature being within its reach, and lingering under the inflictions of a
calamity so exquisite. The very poorest of the people could not
bear the thought of it; and they would be seen to elude the eye
of half-conniving sentinels, and to cast a pittance of their own




FOR CHARITABLE INSTITUTIONS.             35
scanty fare through the gratings of this cell of anguish. Humanity
would rise in rebellion against such a proceeding; and the law
be trampled, as it ought, into utter inefficiency. So that, however man may blunder his arrangements for the anticipation of
eventual hunger, man, if not an outcast from the general character of his fellows, never can listen unmoved to the claims of
actual hunger. The speculation which would harden him into
such indifference as this, deserves to have the seal of infamy set
upon it-and no talent by which it is defended, no eloquence by
which it is set forth to public acceptance, should go to shield it
from the vengeance of public reprobation.
Nothing then can be more clearly imperative on the disciples of
Christ, than to follow out those impulses of compassion, by which
they are prompted to the redress of such sufferings as are presently
before them.  "If a brother or sister be actually naked, or actually destitute of daily food; and one of you say unto them,
Depart in peace, be ye warmed and clothed, notwithstanding ye
give them not those things which are needful for the body-what
doth it profit? And whoso hath this world's goods, and seeth his
brotherkhave need, and shutteth up his bowels of compassion from
him-how dwelleth the love of God in him?" And further, nothing
is more thoroughly accordant with the whole spirit and character
of our faith, than when, under the instigation of a more active
and aspiring good-will, man, instead of waiting until distress presents itself before him, goeth forth on the errand of search and
of discovery among its likely habitations-than when, with something more than a house and a heart open to the applications of
the wretched, he maketh his own positive and personal aggressions
on the territory of wretchedness-than when he not only consents to relieve, but offers to relieve; and not only welcomes the
proposals of charity, but originates the proposals of charityvisiting the fatherless and the widow  in their affliction; alive to
all the actual distress that is within his reach; and holding the
very existence of misery, whether seen or unseen, to be a claim
upon his attentions and his services.
But what I think is egregiously wanted on the part of the benevolent public, is a clear and steady discernment of the difference that
there is-between a proposal for the redress of present suffering,
and a plan, which, additionally to this object, does, by the stability
of its mechanism and the perpetuity of its operation, involve in it
a proposal for the redress of future suffering. The object is altogether excellent. The desire that such distresses as are not yet
in existence should be relieved when they arise, is just as much
the natural and legitimate working of a principle of compassion,
as the desire that the distresses now around us should be so relieved. Propose to compassion. either a suffering that now is, or
a suffering that is certainly to be; and you in each case place before it the very object on which it fastens, and in which it finds mat



36              CHRIST'S EXAMPLE A GROUND
ter for its proper and congenial exercise. In thus doing you make
an appeal to the heart. But when you come forth with a plan,
you come forth with an appeal to the understanding. A plan
may, it is very possible, aggravate the distress which it proposes
to do away. It may beget a delusive hope of its efficiency as a
corrective to human suffering, and thus slacken the operation of
all the preventatives of human suffering. Instead of drawing the
rich into a closer and kindlier habit of intercourse with the poor,
it may, through the intermedium of that body of management on
which its execution is devolved, rise as a barrier of separation between them. It may be such a system of public and regulated
charity, as goes to stifle and supersede the compassion of the heart
instead of softening it; and, with the seemly apparatus of direct
security which it has raised for the accommodation of the destitute
-all it may ever do, is to force one great stream into an abyss
that is bottomless; and to dry up or divert those innumerable
lesser streams, which else would flow, in fruitful and refreshing
circulation, among the many reservoirs of private society. All
this may be a man's understanding; and, whether in error or not,
it may be the understanding of one, who, along with the principle
of intelligence in his bosom such as it is, may have room in its
receptacles for lodging a compassionate heart. It may be the
understanding of one, who feels compassion for all the misery that
now is; and with whom it is the whole aim of his most strenuous
philanthropy, to maintain among mankind the entireness and the
efficacy of compassion, in unimpaired reserve for all the misery
that is to come. It may be the understanding of one who partakes in all the sympathies of nature, and at the same time has
such confidence in their wise and ready adaptation to the sufferings
of nature, that he looks on the intermeddling, either of legislative
or municipal wisdom, as pregnant with danger and disturbance to
the best interests of humanity. It is not because he is hostile to
commerce that he deprecates the interference of public regulation;
but because he thinks that commerce thrives most prosperously,
when left to the operation of her own unfettered principles on the
wants and activities of the species. It is not because he is hostile
to benevolence, that he protests against every attempt to turn a
matter of kindness into a matter of compulsion; but because he
thinks that benevolence, left to her own free and spontaneous
energies, will shed a more abundant blessing upon the land, than
benevolence moulded into the shape and lifelessness of a statue,
by the hand of legislation. If he be wrong, he is only wrong in
understanding; and for this error, let him be taken to the field of
argument, and there let him endure all the severities of the contest, and, if so be, all the disgrace of an overthrow. But it ceases
to be argument, and sours and blackens into calumny, when the
impeachment is raised, not against his notions, but against his
sensibilities —when denounced as the enemy of all benevolence,




FOR CHARITABLE INSTITUTIONS.             37
because, in resistance to modern inventions, he proclaims her
authority in the way which he thinks to be coeval with the law of
revelation and the law of the heart-when charged with the guilt
of a rebel against the established maxims of charity, because he
cannot bow the knee to the mandates of those courts and corporations of charity, which owe their title of established only to the
perpetuity of error-when represented as a transgressor against
nature, because he resists the deviations which have been made
from her; and as trying by wisdom to school away all the sympathies of the human frame, only because he resists the encroachments, which the wisdom of man has made on the wisdom of Him,
who, as the architect of the human frame, is also the alone rightful architect of all human morality. It is then that the poison of
injustice enters into the controversy. It is then that the torch of
truth is exchanged for the firebrand of discord; and her angry
flash is all that remains to lighten up that field, where the war of
argument has now become a war of recriminations. Let us cease
to wonder, that, amid the thickenings of such a warfare, evil
should be called good, or good should be called evil; that they
should be traduced as having no heart, who have stood forth the
most zealous champions of all its prerogatives-as having tried to
extirpate humanity. who have done most to rescue her from thraldom-as having aimed by the weapon of an intellectual demonstration at the overthrow of benevolence-when their whole aim
was the overthrow of those intellectual perversities, which have
been gradually imbodied into the practice of the existing generation; and which have done so much to congeal benevolence, and
to cramp all its feelings and all its generous aspirations among the
entanglements of an artificial mechanism.
We now proceed to the direct consideration of the passages
which have already been submitted to you.
I. From the first of them, do we learn the effect, which the exhibition of actual suffering had on the heart of Him, who, both in
feeling and in morality, is held forth in Scripture as a pattern to
us. Without any reference then to the origin of the suffering,
was he immediately moved to compassion on his view of the existence of it. There may have been a culpability in the origin.
There may have been a want of foresight, on the part of the people. There may, with some of them, have been the abandonment
of their regular occupation for a few days on the impulse of an
idle curiosity. There may, even at this earlier stage of their experience of Jesus Christ and of the rule of His proceedings, have
been the sordid expectation of a miraculous supply from heaven,
to relieve that hunger, against which they had failed to provide by
their own industry. But no matter. Here is wretchedness in
actual being, however it may have originated. Here is a mul



38              CHRIST S EXAMPLE A GROUND
titude overtaken, and now in agony. Here a sense of their helplessness and of their danger and of their distance from food, is now
spreading a visible alarm through this crowd of population. Here
symptoms of increasing restlessness, and groups of busy consultation, and the evident awakenings of one topic and of one terror
among them all, and a gathering hue of despair on the countenance of mothers, and the cries of famishing children-are now
beginning to give authentic proclamation of nature in distress.
And what was the effect we ask on Him, who took upon Him this
nature; and that too, with the design of authorizing and exemplifying all the virtues of which it is capable? Did they suggest
to him at the moment any calculation either of causes or of consequences? None, or none at least that we read of. Did they
lead him to brood, in chilling thougtfulness, over either the habits
of past improvidence, or the possibilities of future unbelief? No.
Did he, in the conduct of relieving them, devise any line of separation betwixt the deserving and the undeserving? No. Did
any one maxim of economy or of science, offer to lay an arrest
upon his sensibilities, or to deafen the energy of that pleading
voice, which now arose from the multitude before him? No. He
looked to them, we are told; and He had compassion on them that
they had nothing to eat; and He could not send them away fasting-lest they should faint on the way. He felt the urgency of
the call, and He forthwith acted upon it. He provided for the
whole extent of the present emergency; and. without delay or
without discrimination, did He bring forward food for all, so that
they did all eat and were filled.
And so may it happen in the present day. Distress may come
at unawares; and this distress may extend to a multitude. By
one unlooked for evolution in the mechanism of trade, a whole
class of society may suddenly be overtaken; and, what with the
actual misery of the present and the gloomy forebodings of the
future, may realize the very sensations which drew out a miracle
of loaves from the pitying Saviour. It is clearly our part to feel
as he felt, and, as far as we are able, to do as He did. And were
it possible to single out from the mass with which they are intermingled the verily destitute; and so to conduct the ministration
that they should obtain all the benefit, without the encroachment
of unworthy competitors; and so to pour in a stream of liberality
on the one hand that it shall not be neutralized on the other, as it
often is in the case of a public and combined movement of charity, by a consequent and a further depression in those very wages,
the insufficiency of which is the cause and the essence of the
whole disaster: —In a word, were it possible actually to know,
as our Saviour knew, the whole length and breadth of the calamity-actually to bring it forth into a distinct place, as our Saviour
did, and, by the might of an uplifted arm to crush it there into
utter annihilation-actually to send forth such a flood of copious




FOR CHARITABLE INSTITUTIONS.              39
ness on this epidemic plague, as to quench and to overwhelm itand so by some process that has not yet been discovered, to meet
the recurring visitation, that instead of an invariable cry, sent forth
as if from the devouring grave, that it is not yet enough, some
fragments of the distribution were left and gathered up after all
were satisfied: —If it be in the power of assembled men thus to
surmount this evil, without the infliction of greater evil, both upon
the character and interests of humanity —then, let the charities of
all be formed into one great and visible aggregate, for the purpose of sweeping it away. But if this is not possible; if man
cannot do with success by a combined effort upon the multitude,
what every man might do, each with a measure of success, on his
separate portion of it —Then does it not follow, that because the
wisdom of man has failed, the will of God should fail —that because the contrivance of man should be abrogated, the commandment of God should be abrogated —that because the machinery
of human concert has been found ineffectual and may therefore
be dissolved, the morality of human conscience should also be dissolved. Compassion is still the unrepealed law of every individual heart, and that whether man by his laborious combinations
has done more to aid or to impede the execution of its dictates. If
a right economy of general and extended distribution, like one of
the secret things of God, be above his skill, that is no reason, why
any of the revealed things of God should be deemed beneath his
submission-or why he who is rich in this world should not be
rich in good works, and ready to distribute, and willing to communicate. 0 no, my brethren. Let men controvert, and calumniate, and strive with each other, in the contests of mutual vanity
and intolerance, about plans-be assured that you will never lay
hold on eternal life, unless you keep your firm and your fast hold
upon principles-that compassion is a principle of uncancelled
authority; nor can you expunge it from your bosom without expunging from it the resemblance of the Godhead, in one of the
brightest of its lineaments-that in this, and in every season of
general disaster, there is a louder call for its exercise; and each
should now be looking with a wakeful and a pitying eye to the
want and the wretchedness that multiply around him-that each
should fill up his own little sphere of attention with the offices of
kindness; and, in despite of cold speculation either about the origin
or the result of our present suffering, should hold, even as our
Saviour held, the existence of suffering to be in itself a claim
upon his sympathies, to be in itself a call upon his services.
If any plan of wide and artificial co-operation shall be found effectual, then the advocate of compassion does not embarrass this
plan-he only stimulates its formation, and puts more alacrity into
all its movements. If again, with all the devices of a deep and
variously exercised sagacity, no such plan can be adjusted-it is
not lie who is chargeable, but the impotency of human wisdom, or




40               CHRIST S EXAMPLE A GROUND
the uncontrollable difficulties with which it meets in the constitution of human society. This may be matter of regret, just as we
regret any other evil for which there is no remedy. But if anything can alleviate this regret, or rather do it away altogether, it
will be the discovery, that the remedy does not lie in the devisings of human wisdom at all, but in the simple doings of human
obedience-that if each individual be left to the force of his own
conceptions of duty, and the play of his own unsophisticated feelings, a better compound result will be obtained, than ever can be
reached through the by-paths, and the intricacies of any great
political contrivance —that there lie scattered through the mass
of society such vigilance each for himself and such sympathy
each for another, as if unmeddled with by legislation, will insure
a better state of things, than legislation with all her powers ever
can effectuate —that, even separate from Christianity, nature works
too powerfully in the hearts of individuals-as that, if famine do
not withhold the materials of subsistence, no human being ever
will be permitted to perish for hunger in the sight of his fellowsthat if to the compassionate instincts of nature in any given
neighborhood, there be superadded the lights and the lessons of
the Gospel, there will be placed in the way of an event so distressing, the barrier of a moral impossibility-that in such a state
of things, abundance does find its way, in a thousand rills of unseen beneficence, among the habitations of the destitute; and
comes into kindlier and more effective contact with human suffering, than ever can be reached by the unwieldy operations of a
large and general superintendence-In other words, that a problem which is now exercising and baffling the ingenuity of many
speculators, owes all its difficulty to the ambition of meddling with
a matter that is too high for them-that if they would simply let
it alone, and leave nature and Christianity to their own influence,
they would do for the cause of philanthropy what parliament
does for the interests of trade, when, repealing alike her restrictions and her encouragements, she withdraws that hand by which
she meant to help, but has only embarrassed the operations of merchandise. In a word, we cease from our regret for the inefficiency
of plans, when made to see that any mechanism of general and
apparent distribution which art can devise, goes only to supersede
the operations of a previous and a better mechanism-that, in
spite of the prevalence of selfishness in our world, more is done
for it even now, by each kind-hearted individual betaking himself
in simplicity and in silence to his own separate walk of acquaintanceship among the poor, than by all the paraded charities of our
land. And the delightful anticipation is before us, that, in proportion as Christians are multiplied; in proportion as Christian instruction is dealt out in larger quantities, among the families of a
heretofore neglected population; in proportion as the mass of our
assembled millions is broken down into manageable fragments




FOR CHARITABLE INSTITUTIONS.            41
and facilities are opened for the intercourse of wisdom and piety
throughout the habitations; in proportion as men go forth amongst
their fellows on the one errand of preparing them for heaven-in
that very proportion will a mutual kindness be diffused through
every neighborhood, to reduce and to sweeten all the hardships
of the pilgrimage which leads to it —So that if any hearer among
vou is like to be lost in bewilderment among the intricacies of a
plan, be assured that your best contribution to the good of society,
is to submit your heart and conduct to the authority of a principle; and, while I proclaim the sanctions which the principle of
compassion has gotten from the law of God, and the example of
our Saviour-learn that your duty is, under the workings of this
sensibility, never to hide yourself from your own flesh, but to devise liberal things in your heart, and to do with your hand and
with all your might that which the hand findeth to do.
II. The next passage which I shall offer, is from John vi. 25-27.
Here there is no miracle of loaves recorded, and it is likely that
none was performed. We read only of two instances of such a
miracle; and in each of them the multitude were overtaken with
hunger. Even His own disciples, familiarized as they were to
the supernatural achievements of their Master, were not, in either
of these instances, counting on any miracle in their behalf, and far
less, it is to be presumed, would the people be counting on it. He,
in both these cases, felt a movement of compassion towards them,
and He followed it. But when, instead of hunger overtaking
them, they voluntarily courted hunger for the sake of the indolence
which came before, and of the relief which they hoped would come
after it —when, instead of being assailed by it in the shape of an
unlooked-for visitation, they were actually drawing it upon themselves in the prospect of another compassionate interferencewhen dependence on the power and the kindness of another, was
undermining the dependence ththey ought to have felt on the resources of their own care and their own industry-let us observe
in this passage, how the discerning eye of the Saviour marked the
first dawning of this sordid and mercenary expectation in their
hearts, and how immediately he repressed it. There was room
it would appear in His moral constitution, both for that softness
of character, which is easily touched and awakened by the sight
of human misery; and also for that firmness of character, which
could promptly minister a wholesome correction, and set up a preventive stay to the progress of human worthlessness. Those philanthropists, who calculate as well as feel for the good of humanity,
may take comfort under all the imputations of harshness and barbarity which are preferred against them-when thus made to understand, that calculation had its place, as well as feeling, with
Him whose character was above every imputation —with Him in
whose person all the graces were mixed and attempered with all
6




42              CHRIST'S EXAMPLE A GROUND
the solidities of human virtue-with Him of whom it is recorded,
that He both cast a weeping eye over the sufferings of our nature,
and looked with the full scrutinizing gaze of an unclouded penetration on its sin and on its sordidness-who, on one occasion, put
forth a miracle, that he might minister food to the actual hunger
of the multitude around Him; and, on another occasion, withheld
that miracle, lest it should minister food to the depravity of the
same multitude. There is much to be gathered from the way in
which He at one time relieved their necessities, and He at another
time checked their expectations —And let this passage of our Saviour's history, while it may serve to guide, serve also to console
every faithful disciple of His, who suffers under the execrations
of a generous but mistaken sensibility; and that too, at the very
time when laboriously toiling in all the duties of benevolence, and
anxiously exploring a clear and conscientious path through all its
difficulties.
Our Saviour could have ministered food to the destitute, with
as great facility as He ministered health to the diseased; and it is
a question worthy of being considered-why He was so sparing
in the one, and so abundant and so indiscriminate and for anything
we read so universal in the other ministration. We know not
that He ever sent a petitioner for health uncured or disappointed
away from Him; and we know not, at the same time, if He ever
above twice in the whole course of His history upon earth, interposed with a miracle for the relief of hunger-while, in the passage before us, it appears, that, instead of meeting, He rebuked
the expectations of those who were running after Him in the hope
of such a miracle. The truth is, that our Saviour's progress in
Judea had before this time become a path of public notoriety.
The eye of general observation was upon all His footsteps; and
the report of every transaction of His was now sure to circulate
through the land. So that the operations of His beneficence were
quite equivalent, in effect. to the operations of a proclaimed charity; and you have only to conceive the effect that it must have
had on the habits of the people-did the Saviour, by an indefinite
multiplication of loaves, hold out the assurance to all who followed
tHim, that they would also be fed by Him. It would, in fact, have
deranged the whole mechanism of Jewish society; and the people,
at large from the regularities of their wonted employment, would
have carried a thickening and accumulating disorder along with
them over the whole country. Every wholesome habit of industry
would have been suspended-had the great teacher of moral righteousness been thus transformed into the almoner of assailing multitudes. And it would not only have brought a great civil and
political mischief upon His countrymen. It would have also raised
a subtle and unsurmountable barrier, in the way of every conversion from sin unto God. It would have marred the success of
His own peculiar enterprise in the world. His object was to lead




FOR CHARITABLE INSTITUTIONS.              43
men on the path to heaven; but it is essential to the act of walking on this path, that there be the self-denial of every earth-born
propensity-so that, from the very nature of the case, it ceases to
be a movement heavenwards, when men are led to it by the
bribery of this world's advantages. Godliness, by being turned
into gain, ceases to be godliness. His undertaking was to accomplish in the person of every disciple, a triumph of the spiritual over
the sensitive part of the human constitution; and to raise the affections of our degenerate nature, from the things which are beneath to the things which are above. Had He, in possession of
the gift of multiplying loaves, done without measure and without
consideration, what many of our scheming philanthropists would
have counted so desirable, He in fact would have nullified His
own errand. He would have stifled that principle which He
wanted to implant, and nourished that principle which He wanted
to destroy. He would only have deepened and confirmed that
sunken debasement into which humanity had fallen; and, besides
throwing the whole population among whom He expatiated into
a state of restless and dissatisfied turbulence, the only other effect
of His visit would have been, to have graven on the character of
our species the traces of their selfishness and their sensuality, more
indelibly than He had found them.
Something surely is to be learned from the caution, wherewith
our Saviour put forth such miraculous powers, as might tempt
the indigent away from their regular occupations. There was an
unavoidable publicity in His proceedings; and there is a publicity
equally unavoidable, in the proceedings of every corporate and
combined charity. The lesson of the passage now under consideration, is not surely that any private individual should steel
his heart against the sufferings of the poverty that is now in existence. I have attempted to draw an opposite lesson from the
first of these passages. But it ought at least to make everybody
of individuals, advert to that publicity which their doings have in
common with the doings of the Saviour: and to be alike cautious
with Him of the mischief which may flow from it. We are not
to overlook the distinction which obtained in His practice, between
miracles for the relief of hunger and miracles for the relief of disease. It may suggest a like distinction in our practice, between
public measures for the relief of hunger and public measures for
the relief of disease; and know, that, while it is the duty of each to
carry in his bosom a heart most feelingly alive to all the sufferings of the poverty now in existence-it follows not, that it is
therefore his duty, to enter into any scheme or any organization,
which may have the effect of bringing more poverty into existence; of alluring men from their habits of self-dependence and
self-respect; or, under the guise of liberality, of bringing a cruel
disappointment on all its desires, and stamping an impotence and
a folly on all its devices.




44              CHRIST S EXAMPLE A GROUND
III. We now come to the third passage-from which, when
taken in connection with the whole history of our Saviour's miracles, we infer that the caution which marked His proceedings
when acting in the capacity of an almoner, He put altogether
away from Him when acting in the capacity of a physician-that,
whatever restraint he laid on His supernatural power of ministering to the necessities of indigence, He laid none whatever on His
supernatural power of ministering to the necessities of diseasethat, however fearful of mischief He seems to have been, had He
expatiated with all the publicity, and all the dependence that might
have attached to Him on the one walk of beneficence, He seems to
have had no apprehenson of danger to the sufferers themselves
by His expatiating with all publicity and freedom on the other
walk of beneficence —healing every sickness and every disease
amongst the people; leaving no recorded instance behind Him,
of a single petitioner for a cure being sent disappointed away;
and repeatedly, are we told, when surrounded by crowds of imploring sick, looking to them, and having compassion on them, and
healing them all.
It may be right to advert shortly, to one great distinction in
point of effect, between a public and indefinite system of operations for the relief of indigence, and the same system of operations
for the relief of disease-as it may both serve to explain the conduct of our Saviour, and guide us in the paths of a wise and enlightened imitation.
The great cause of the distinction between these two cases is
this.
To be an object for the one charity, a man has only to become
poor; and though there be no charm in poverty itself, yet there
are charms innumerable in the path of freedom and indolence and
dissipation which leads to it. Poverty is the spectre, which stands
at the termination of this path; and so frightful in aspect, that,
when seen, though afar without mitigation and without disguise, it
is able to scare away the great majority of the world from any
wilful approximation. On the entrance of that descending avenue
which leads to want, there lie a thousand temptations; but, such
is the power of human foresight, that a view of the spectre at the
other end is generally of force enough, and counteraction enough,
to neutralize them. Now a public charity for the relief of want
disarms this spectre. It relieves men of their present care, and
of their present strenuousness; and so is it ever found, that, in
proportion to the amplitude of such a charity, is the number of
candidates for admission-and each having the real qualification
too, of actual poverty to plead for them.
To be an object for the other charity, a man must be under disease; and, unless when disease is the effect of vicious indulgence,
there is a strong and universal recoil on the part of nature, from
the very first approaches of it. No man, generally speaking, will




FOR CHARITABLE INSTITUTIONS.             45
take on disease for the sake of its remedy-any more than he will
put out his eyes for the benefit of a blind asylum; or will break a
limb, for the sake of its amputation; or will inflict any wilful mutilation upon himself, for the benefit of admittance into an infirmary.
Men find their way to the one charity by a transition of pleasurethey find their way to the other by the transition of pain. The
one in this way multiplies its objects beyond its powers of relieving
them; and thus adds, we believe, to the misery, as well as to the
worthlessness of our species. The other does not so multiply its
objects; and thus, by all the relief which it deals out on them, does
it effectuate, without deterioration to the character, a clear abridgment on the sufferings of humanity.
In order to obscure the line of distinction between these two
charities, it might be alleged, that, by exertion and economy on
the part of individuals, each may render himself independent on
charity for the relief of his wants; and that it is just by a higher
degree of the same exertion and economy, that he renders himself independent on charity for the relief of his diseases. And
certainly, as it does argue a higher independence in tfact, when a
man is able, on his own resources, to meet all the contingencies
of his lot-so it does argue a higher independence of feeling,
when a man aims, not merely at paying for himself what an
hospital of poverty might otherwise offer to provide and to pay
for him, but also to pay for himself what an hospital of disease might otherwise offer to provide and to pay for him. But
still the one case does not melt into the other by a continuous
gradation. There is a broad and immutable lFne of distinction
between them. The one enlists the human will on the side of
poverty; and therefore is sure to increase its ills, up to and beyond the measure of its own alleviations. The other never can
enlist the human will on the side of disease; and therefore effectuates an unqualified good. by every inroad that it makes on the
mass of involuntary wretchedness. Open the door of any public
receptacle for indigence; and let the whole of his argument fall
to the ground, if the invariable result of such an experiment has
not been,-that the amount of poverty left out, swells instantaneously beyond the amount of all that poverty that was untouched
and unrelieved at the outset of this operation. Open the door of
a public receptacle for disease; and, by each patient who enters
in, is the field of general humanity more delivered from the burden
of that distress which lay upon it. There is, by a principle of our
nature, a creative and multiplying process to fill up all the vacancies, which the hand of a public and permanent charity attempts
to make on the territory of indigence. There is no such principle,
and no such process for filling up the vacancies, which the hand
of public charity makes on the territory of disease. By every
shilling surrendered for the one object, you recede from its accomplishment. By every shilling surrendered for the other, you




46               CHRIST S EXAMPLE A GROUND
draw nearer to its accomplishment. Push the one to its uttermost; and you arrive at the result of a beggared population absorbing for its maintenance the whole wealth of the country, and
the wealth of the country withering into decay from the decaying
industry of its population. Push the other to its uttermost; and,
with a small and definite fraction of the country's wealth, you accomplish all that can be accomplished for the mitigation of the
evils, to which by nature and by providence the people of every
country are liable. By every step in the progress of the one operation, you feed and inflame the mischief which you are vainly
trying to extirpate. By every step in the progress of the other,
you make a clear and satisfying advance towards an assignable
fulfilment.
Doubtless the mind of an Icelandic native is sustained at a
higher pitch of anticipation, and it may go to induce a habit of
more virtuous economy-that, in addition to the cares of the men
of other countries, he has to provide against the ravages of the
impending volcano. Yet, if practicable, who would spare the
combined expense, that could divert those fires to the bottom of
the ocean? And it nerves and elevates the character of a northern peasantry, that they have to look forward to the severities of
the coming winter; yet, if it could be purchased, who would not
think it worthy of being so-that, by some mighty contribution,
they obtained a softening of their climate and an everlasting exemption from its storms? And those men who live in a region
of pestilence, would have a loftier cast of intelligence than their
fellows, were they at all times wisely and carefully prepared for
its periodic visitations. Yet what surrender of wealth would be
counted extravagant, that could bring some healing stream to circulate through the land, and to chase forever the contagion away
from it? And, in like manner, we, though we live at a distance
from these extremes, have still the inflictions of nature and of necessity to contend with. And it doubtless argues a higher tone
and state of a family-when, by the moral force of industry and
care, it can not only provide for the ordinary accidents, but also
for the accidents of blindness, and derangement, and dumbness,
by which any of its members may be visited. Yet if nature could
be bribed by money, tell me what would be the sum too large, to
obtain from her in every district of the land, a medicinal well, of
effect to cure and to alleviate each of these calamities? Would
not such an accommodation as this, both of public notoriety and
of permanent continuance, just translate our country into permanently better circumstances than before?  The supposition is
altogether fanciful. But it serves our purpose-if a public institution for any of these objects, formed out of the united sums of
many contributors, is just, in its economic effect on the character
and condition of our people, an equivalent to one of these wells.
It is only, by the substitution of art for nature, translating our land




FOR CHARITABLE INSTITUTIONS.             47
into the condition of a more richly gifted country. By the money
laid out on an asvlunl for indigence, you do not strike out a new
fountain of abundance in the country-you do not purchase additional fertility to our fields-you do not obtain a larger proportion of food to the population-you only change the distribution
of the food, and make it a worse distribution than before. By the
money laid out on an asylum for disease, you strike out a new
fountain of health in the country.  You erect a Bethesda, out of
which there may issue a refreshing stream on the sick and infirm
of our population. And in all these ways, may it be proved, that
there is indeed a firm barrier of distinction, between a public and
indefinite system of relief for pauperism, and a public and indefinite system of relief for disease? The one, in truth, never can
overtake the cases which its own operations tend to multiply. The
other may be safely carried onwards, till, by the interest of a permanent capital, it becomes commensurate forever to all the demands which the country may make upon it.
There is not only wisdom, but a p'rofoundness of wisdom, in the
example of our Saviour. And in the matters of human charity,
will it be seen, that, both by the actions of His history, and the
admonitions of the greatest of His apostles, He not only provides
in the best manner for the worth of individual character-but that
He also provides in the best manner for the economic regulation
of the largest and most complex societies.
He in the first instance gives us an example of the softest compassion at the sight of human misery; and He lets us know by it,
that, if there be actual hunger within our reach, for which there
appears no remedy-it is our part to give way to the sensibilities
of our nature, and to stretch forth a helping hand for the purpose
of relieving it. He would have spared the miracle, had other resources been at hand; but the people were far from the food of
markets, or the food of their own habitations. He would have
left the case to themselves, could they have supported the fatigue
of reaching it themselves; but they would have fainted on the
way-and therefore, as an example to us to give in such a predicament out of our abundance, did He call down a miracle from
Heaven that the people before Him might eat and be filled.
In the second instance, what He granted to the urgent necessities of the people, He refused to their sordid expectations. It was
not His habit to provide food for His followers in this extraordinary manner. He left poverty to the effect of its natural exhibition on the compassionate nature of those who were near it-and
a nature which all His lessons are fitted to render more compassionate than before. He must have thought that it was better
thus to leave it-than to bring out the clustering multitudes
around Himself in the capacity of an almoner. All His doings
were of public notoriety; and, in point of effect on the comfort




48              CHRIST S EXAMPLE A GROUND
and character of His countrymen, would they have been the same
with the operations of a public charity. And we are not afraid
to affirm-that generally it were better still, to leave the cause of
indigence to the play of those innumerable sympathies, which are
to be met with in manifold detail, and in deeply-extended diffusion, throughout every community of human beings-than that,
by the existence of a great and widely-visible institution, either
the recipients of charity should be tempted away from the resources of their own industry; or the dispensers of charity should
be tempted away from the work of each cultivating his own province, and lavishing those generosities of character which adorn
the man and are altogether indispensable to the Christian, on the
walk of his own separate and familiar acquaintanceship.
But in the third instance, when he threw off all reserve, and
stood publicly out to the eye of His countrymen in the capacity
of a divine teacher-He also threw off all reserve, and stood as
publicly out to the eye of His countrymen, in the capacity of one
who healed all manner of sickness and all manner of diseases
among the people. He did not bring down subsistence by miracle, and cast it abroad amongst them. But He brought down
health by miracle, and cast it abroad amongst them. He did not
encourage the people to forsake their callings and to riot after
Him in trooping disorder through the country for food; but He
laid no such prohibition on blameless and helpless disease. He
did not choose that the report of His appearance, should be the
signal for a jubilee of idleness and dissipation among His countrymen; but when it brought out the maimed, and the halt, and the
dumb, and the lunatic, and those who were sick and sorely afflicted with various infirmities from the surrounding villages, He
sent them not away. He saw a distinction between the one
claim and the other, and He acted upon it. The restless philanthrophy of the day, ever scheming and ever intermeddling with
the previous arrangements of nature, may gather some lessons
from that peculiarity, which characterized the march of His wise
and effective beneficence through the land of Judea. Whatever
discouragements it may draw from His example in the erection
of an asylum for indigence, it can draw none against the erection
of an asylum for disease; and while the boding apprehension both
of moral and physical disaster hangs over the one institution, do
we infer, that, with the other, may its door be thrown open, and
all its accommodations be widened and multiplied-till every imploring patient be taken in, and a harbor of sufficient amplitude
be provided for all those sufferings, which an uncontrollable necessity has laid upon our species.
I shall conclude this argument, with three observations. First,
we are quite aware of the advantage, which they, who contend
for a public and proclaimed charity in behalf of indigence, appear
to have over their antagonists. On the first blush of it, it looks




FOR CHARITABLE INSTITUTIONS.             49
like the contest of human sympathy against human selfishnessof kindness pressing a measure of positive beneficence, against
steeled and hardened barbarity, laboring with all its strenuousness
to put it down. We are aware of the apparent advantage which
this gives to the combatants on the other side of this deeply interesting controversy; and we are equally aware of the uncandid
and unmerciful use that they have made of it. Strange that the
plea of compassion should be so vehemently urged, in defence of
a system under which the virtue of compassion withers into lifelessness. Let it grow as a distinct plant in every heart, and be
cherished among the privacies of kindly and familiar neighborhood; and then will it be sure to scatter its innumerable leaves
in every quarter of society, for the healing of the population.
But it loses all its succulence, and all its blossom, in the chilling
atmosphere of an almshouse. Fostered there into a tree of leafless magnitude, it stands in monumental coldness-having the
body without the breath of charity; and, for the support of its
unwieldy materialism, is it now drying up all the native sensibilities of our land. If you wish to restore benevolence amongst us
to its healthful circulation, this forced and factitious excrescence
must finally be cleared away. Thus and thus alone will you
bring back to compassion all the scope and all the excitement, by
which she may break out again into the vigor and the efflorescence of liberty; and when so brought back, will there arise a
thousand securities which are now dormant, against every one of
those calamities, which law has only aggravated, in its vain
attempts to combat and to reduce them. The lesson of our second
passage, so far from counteracting, only affords space lnd encourvgement for the lesson of our first. And in opposition to all that
leclamation has uttered, against the aggressions of the undertanding upon the province of the heart, do we aver, that never
were the powers of the one more directly engaged, in affirming
the prerogatives and in vindicating the outraged sensibilities of the
other-than when helping to release the business of human
charity, from the grasp and the regulation of human power: And
never will political philosophy have rendered so brilliant a service
to the good and to the virtue of our species, as when she reinstates charity upon its original basis; and commits the cause of
human suffering back again to those free sympathies of nature,
from which it had been so unwisely wrested by the hand of legislation.
But secondly, whatever may have been said to damp or to
deaden our regards towards a public institution for poverty, nothing
has been said to alienate from a similar institution for disease.
When charged with the desolating influences of speculation upon
the heart, let it be understood, that there is an opportunity on
which every economist may, by his ample contribution in behalf
of a cause that is free from every exception, render to his own
7




50               CHRIST S EXAMPLE A GROUND
favorite science the most satisfying of all vindications.  If the
thought that indigence with all its ills, is fostered and augmented,
just in proportion to the amount of that fund which is publicly
provided for it —if this be the thought which restrained his liberality, let us see what is the style in which his liberality will expatiate, when this restraint is lifted away from it. In reference
to the objects of a charity for disease, nature supplies him with a
definite number of cases which no benevolence can increase;
and let us therefore see, whether his benevolence will flag or
whether it will persist with untired and undiminished energy, till
the number be overtaken. If his reason told him that an asylum
of one kind may be a vomitory of evil, both physical and moral,
to the people of' the land, and he therefore turned a deaf ear to
all its applications-let us see what the sensibility and what the
sacrifice will be, when his reason tells him that there is an asylum
of another kind, which acts in every instance as an absorbent of
human suffering, and in no instance as a fountain of mischievous
emanation. We do not say it is wrong that the heart should be
placed under the custody of the understanding; or that the one
should lay its limitation on the feelings and exercises of the other.
But we cannot know the character of the heart, till the time and
the place occur when every limitation is removed, and so, when
pleading for the relief of disease, instead of a forbidden glance
from the intellectual power, she lends her full consent and smiles
her approving testimony-when no voice of boding anticipation,
is lifted up to deafen the solicitations of charity-when a path
of safe and undoubted progress is opened, in which philanthropy
may walk, till she reach the full achievement of her purposeswhen she is moving on ground, where every step carries her forward in nearer approximation to a most complete and gratifying
accomplishment-when a few of our brethren, whom the hand of
nature hath mutilated of their faculties, are standing before us
with the credentials of their impressive claim, stamped and authenticated upon their persons, and just as if Heaven had affixed a
mark by which to select and to set them apart for the unqualified
sympathy of all their fellows-when feeling urges us onwards in
behalf' of misfortune, so signalized and so privileged, and philosophy places no cold obstruction in her way-With all these favorable circumstances surrounding the cause, and all these incitements
to bear us forward to its triumphant consummation, let us not
cease to stimulate and to draw from the resources of the country,
till every such institution be wide enough to take in all for whose
relief it is adapted; and till it rise in the shape of a permanent
endowment, among the most securely established and best provided charities of our land.
It is thus that an institution for disease, should stand before the
eye of the public with a claim and a character which ought to
secure it ifrom  every fluctuation.  It should be brought out




FOR CHARITABLE INSTITUTIONS.             51
and peculiarized, from among the crowd of ambiguous and questionable charities. There are many other advantages in the combination and resources of a public society, formed for the mitigation of disease, on which I have no time to expatiate. And I shall
only therefore remark of each such institution that, if not placed
on the stable foundation of a sure and permanent capital, there
ought at least to be a yearly subscription ample enough for the
purpose of meeting every application. At all events it ought to
have such an homage rendered to it, as to make it independent of
any vindication which may be offered firom the pulpit in its behalf;
and it is a reproach to an intelligent public, that ministers have to
descend so often from the higher walk of parochial and congregational usefulness, in order to stimulate their languid energies, in
behalf of charities which ought long ago, to have been made productive enough for their interesting but limited necessities.




ON THE NECESSITY
OF
UNITING PRAYER WITH PERFORMANCE
FOR THE
SUCCESS OF MISSIONS.
HAD the members of some school of philosophy, by dint of a
skilful and laborious analysis, become profoundly conversant with
the mysteries of the human spirit-Had they speculated with accuracy and effect, not merely on the progress of an individual
mind from its first rude and unformed elements to the highest finish
both of its moral and intellectual cultivation, but also on the progress of the collective mind in society-so as to trace all the continuous footsteps by which the transition is made from savage to
civilized life-Had they, on the principles of their new system,
devised a path of tuition, and instituted a method of discipline,
and framed a book of elementary doctrine and scholarship, in
virtue of which they held themselves prepared for a grand philanthropic experiment on some remote island of barbarians, yet in
the ferocity and primitive ignorance of nature-Had they been
able so to interest the public in their scheme, as to be upheld by
them in all the cost of a benevolent expedition-and then set forth
on the wide ocean of adventure, till they reached a far-distant and
solitary shore, that was peopled by an untaught tribe of idolaters,
where all the arts and habits and decencies of Europe were unknown, and where some hideous misshapen sculpture bespoke a
paganism of the coarsest and most revolting character-Had they,
in these circumstances, offered parley with the natives; and gained
their confidence: and won such an ascendency, as that they
could assemble and detain them at pleasure for the purposes of
education; and furnished, as they were by an enlightened metaphysics with the best and fittest lessons for men in the infancy of
understanding, brought their well-weighed processes to bear upon
them —Had they got pupils from among all their families, and, in
twenty years, wrought a change more marvellous, than twenty




ON PRAYER FOR THE SUCCESS OF MISSIONS.        53
centuries, rolling over the head of many tribes and nations of
our world, have been able to accomplish-In a word, had they
transformed this horde of cannibals into a lettered and humanized peasantry; and, for the cruelties of their old and haggard
superstition, trained them to the peaceful charities of this world
and to the rejoicing hopes of another-Had they been further enabled to grace the whole of this exhibition by such pleasing and
picturesque accompaniments, as those of newly-formed villages,
and cultivated gardens, and prosperous industry, and the whole
costume of industrious and well-regulated life-and all this on the
part of a people who, but a few years before, were prowling in
nakedness, and with fierce and untamed spirit, could assemble in
delighted multitudes, around the agonies of a human sacrificeAn achievement so wonderful as this would have blazoned forth
upon the world as one of the noblest triumphs of philosophy. It
would have filled and dazzled the whole of our literary republic;
and her academies would have vied with each other, in heaping
their orders and their honorary titles on the men, who had found
out that specific charm, by which to reclaim the wilds of humanity, and to quicken a hundred fold the march and improvement of
our species.
Now it is not very many years ago, since such an enterprise
was set on foot by the members of a certain college, though not
a college of literati; and they carried out with them a certain book
of instructions, though not one philosopher had to do with the
composition of it; and they made the very attempt which we have
now specified, on a territory removed by some thousands of miles
from the outskirts of civilization; and through a severe ordeal of
ridicule and of reverses did they ply their assiduous task, and have
now brought their experiment to its termination. And, whatever the steps of their process may have been, there is many an
eye-witness who can speak to the result of it. The island of Otaheite, which teemed with the worst abominations of savage passion
and savage cruelty, was the selected arena on which they tried
the virtue of their peculiar specific; and, whatever the rationale
of its operation may have been, there is no doubt as to the certainty of the operation itself. The savages have been humanized.
The rude and hideous characteristics of the savage state have all
disappeared. A nation of gross and grovelling idolaters has become a nation of rational and kindred and companionable men;
and, furnished now as they are with a written language, and having access by authorship and correspondence to other minds and
other countries than their own-do the lights of Christendom  now
shine full upon their territory. And it is indeed a wondrous
transformation-to look at their now modest attire, and their now
sweet and comfortable habitations, and their village schools, and
their well-ordered families, and their infant literature, and their
new-formed alphabet, and a boyhood just taught and practised like




54                   ON PRAYER FOR
our own in the various branches of scholarship; and, what perhaps
poetry even though apart from religion would most fondly seize
upon of all-the holiness of their sabbath-morn; and the chime
of' its worship-bell. now breaking for the first time on the ear of
the delighted mariner who hovers upon their shore, and recognized by him as a sound that was before unheard, throughout the
whole of that vast Pacific, in the solitude of whose mighty waters
this island had lain buried and unknown for so many ages. Yes!
all this has undoubtedly been done; but then a few Gospel missionaries had the doing of it; and they tell us that the whole
charm and power of this marvellous translation are to be found
in the Bible and in its cabalistic orthodoxy; and they talk moreover of prayers and outpourings and mystic influences from on
high, which all the science of all our universities cannot lead us
to comprehend or in any way to sympathize with-And thus, as
the compound effect of this whole exhibition on many spirits, are
there an incredulity; and a contempt; and at the same time an
astonishment at a great moral phenomenon, the truth of which is
forced upon them by the evidence of their senses; and withal, we
fear, a still resolute determination to nauseate with all their might
that peculiar evangelism, which has been the instrument of the
most gigantic stride, that was ever made by barbarians on the
road to civilization and virtue. And thus upon them do we perceive perhaps the most striking illustration of that text which can
be given —who, "when God worketh a work in their days, will
in no wise believe though a man should declare it unto them;"
but what they would not believe they will be made to beholdthough, st:ll persisting in their contempt, it will be the beholding
of despisers "' who wonder and perish."
Now this appears to us the precise feeling of secular and merely
scientific men in reference to Bible and missionary societies.
These are the likely instruments under which the world will at
length be christianized; and, by whose power we think, that there
are a stir and an aspect and a sort of heaving even now towards
millennium. The instance just quoted, is in itself a fine miniature
exhibition of that which is destined at length to be universal-like
the size of a man's hand on a very distant horizon; but the token
of a general rain, the clouds and magazines of which will spread
over the whole firmament of heaven, and descend in a universal
shower on the thirsty world which is beneath it. The little stone
is now distinctly visible to those who are looking for it; and from
the visible it will rise into the conspicuous, so as to obtrude itself
at length on the notice of the contemptuous and the careless; and
at last will attain to the size of a mountain that shall fill the whole
earth. Meanwhile Bible and missionary societies are now helping to build this spiritual Jerusalem; and much of most essential but unobserved ground-work must be done, ere the rising
architecture shall be very discernible; and many are the laborers




THE SUCCESS OF MISSIONS.               55
who must ply for years at the work of translations, and the work
of scholarship, ere the Gospel shall be brought in its direct and
naked force upon the consciences of the sinners in all nations;
and assiduous must be the calls on the liberality of a Christian
public, to uphold this work of faith and of patience; and during
the whole of its progress, the resistance and the ridicule of despisers, are just what we should be prepared to look for. And accordingly, in spite of all the patronage that has descended on these
institutions-still will we venture to affirm, that the great majority of the cultivated intellect in our land, is either in a state of
contempt or in a state of hostility against them —that the chaige
of an obscure and ignoble fanaticism is still made to rest on the
design and operation of these societies —that the example of success we have now quoted, which, had it been the success of a
philosophical experiment, would have rung in high gratulation
among all the savans of all the institutes in Europe, has from its
being the success of a Christian experiment, scarcely ever reached
them; or, if the report have falien by accident upon their ears, it
has been like the sound of a vague and distant something in which
they had no concern. In short, there is an apathy about the
whole enterprise-a cold and disdainful feeling towards the christianization of the world.
Now though much of this is to be ascribed to man's natural enmity against the Gospel of Jesus Christ, yet, along with the dislike,
there is an incredulity, and an incredulity that can allege for itself a
number of seemly arguments. The most plausible of these is, the
utter inadequacy of the proposed means to the proposed end of the
societies in question. It is to the spread of the Bible, and to the reading of the Bible, and to the charm of the preacher's voice when
he urges home its lessons-it is apparently to these, that they look
for a regenerated species.  To means so utterly insignificant, the
end appears to be out of all measure romantic and impracticable
and hopeless. This goes a certain way to explain the contempt
of adversaries for the Bible enterprise. They do not see how this
book of antique phrase, and of hidden characters, is to work so
miraculous a change on the spirit and the moral habitude of nations. They cannot see by what inexplicable charm it is, that
the face of our whole world is to be so lightened and transformed
by it. Like the enemies of Samson, they have not yet discovered
wherein it is that the secret of its great strength lieth; and all
their ideas of its powerlessness are abundantly confirmed by what
they see of its slender efficacy among our home population.
When they look to the palpable exhibition of this book, lying
neglected and unopened on the shelves of almost all our habitations; and notice how very small a space in the system of human
affairs, is taken up by the perusal of it; and estimate aright the
wide distance which obtains between its spirit and the spirit of
those who profess to own and to revere it; and see how, even in




56                     ON PRAYER FOR
that very territory of Christendom where the silence originated,
it tells with no practical or perceptible influence on the mass of
families; and can shrewdly remark, after all, that humanity, even
in England, takes very much its own spontaneous way, and that
really there seems no distinct or satisfying proof of any sensible
control, which the Bible has on its business or its morals or the
general spirit and economy of its people-it is truly natural in
these circumstances to ask, if the Bible have been of such minute
and slender efficacy at home, by what inscrutable operation do
we think that it is to achieve a transformation in every way so
marvellous and so magical abroad? If after the residence and
the reading of centuries amongst us, the aspect of our present
British society is still as distant as possible from that which we
conceive of the aspect of millennium-how do we imagine, that
by the transportation of Bibles and missionaries into heathen
lands, a new moral scenery is forthwith to emerge; and that the
millennium of which we see no semblance immediately around
us, is first to break forth on some distant and unknown wilderness? It is thus that among men of firm and secular understandings, there is a certain experimental feeling, as if the whole speculation were vain and visionary and most wildly extravagant.
It is looked to as one of those delusive novelties, that will have its
meteoric course, and then go into oblivion, among the other
popular follies which had their day and are forgotten. While the
cry and fashion of the thing last it is thought, money will be
raised; and Bibles will be exported; and whole packages will be
landed on the shores of idolatry; and missionaries will go forth
and excite for a time a sort of marvel and interest among the
natives, at the very unusual kind of wares in which they deal and
the strange proposals which they have to offer-but that, in a few
little years, all will vanish into impotency, and leave not one trace
behind of that fantastic crusade which we are now called upon to
succor and to sustain.
These are plausible discouragements, and they do operate with
great force on nature and on the sagacity of natural men. They
give a certain character of experimental wisdom to their opposition against that enterprise for which we are contending; and
for the neutralizing of which, therefore, there is a peculiar importance in every fair example that can be quoted of missionary success. The experience of this success has greatly multiplied of
late years; and meanwhile there are two distinct considerations
that I would strongly urge, for the purpose of sustaining your faith
and the constancy of your friendship to the cause.
The first consideration that I would urge, is the certain fitness
of the Bible to that object for which it has been framed. You
must not forget that this book of doubted and decried and disowned efficacy, is the word of God-that it is a message constructed by Him, and specially adapted by His wisdom to the




THE SUCCESS OF MISSIONS.                57
special object of recalling a lost world from its state of exile and
degeneracy-that such is declared to be the power of its doctrine, as that, whensoever it is received, there are received along
with it the forgiveness of sin, and ability from on high to dethrone
sin from its ascendencyv over our moral nature-that, with this
chosen instrument of God for the recovery of our fallen race, there
is a capacity for all those high and heavenly purposes which it is
destined to accomplish-that we are not to despair, because of the
long period of this world's resistance and this world's unconcern,
for this is what the prophecies of the Bible itself have led us to anticipate-that meanwhile, and in the face of' these prophecies, there
is a precept of standing obligation to go and preach this Gospel
unto all nations; and to go and carry this message to every creature under heaven-and, finally-as the fruit of a patience that
must weather every discouragement, and of a perseverance that
must be manfully sustained amid the revilings of a whole multitude of scorners, and of a faith which against hope will believe
in hope that what God hath promised He is also able to perform,
are we told of a latter-day glory which is to fill the whole earth;
and that there is a veil which is to be lifted off from the eyes of
all nations; and that another spirit will at length descend upon
the world, than that by which it has so long been actuated; and
that the obstinacy of the human heart will at length give way,
under the assurances of redeeming mercy-So as that the Gospel, now so unproductive of any moral or spiritual harvest, shall
at length find free course and be everywhere glorified-turning
the earth into a well-watered garden, and causing it from one end
to another to abound in all the fair and pleasant fruits of righteousness.
The second consideration that I would urge, for the purpose of
sustaining our confidence in the future triumph and enlargement
of this cause, is the efficacy of prayer. There is something in
the whole temper and habit of philosophy, that leads us to distrust
the virtue of this expedient. There is even something in the
philanthropic activity of our age, that lures away the heart from
its dependence upon God; and makes it confide to the powers of
human agency alone, that which never will be made to prosper
without the hand of the Almighty being both acknowledged and
implored in it. When one sees so many societies, with the skilful mechanism of their various offices and appointments and committees; and sums up the contributions that are rendered to them;
and looks to the train of their auxiliaries all over the land; and
hears the annual eloquence, and peruses the annual reports which
are issued forth from the fountain-heads of the whole operation;
and further witnesses the spirit and agency and busy earnestness,
wherewith all their proceedings are conducted-So goodly an
apparatus as this, is apt to usurp the hope and the confidence
which should be placed in God only. The instrument becomes
S




58                    ON PRAYER FOR
an idol; and He who is jealous of His honor, and who will have the
power of His divinity recognized throughout every step of that
process which leads to the regeneration of our world, may choose
to mortify the proud anticipations of those who calculate on their
own strength and their own wisdom. The Christians who flourished in the days of Puritanism, that Augustan age of Christianity
in England, were men of prayer but not men of missionary performance; and the Christians of our present day are men of performance, but need perhaps to be humbled by crosses and adversities into men of prayer. It is out of the happy combination of
these two habits, that the evangelizing of the nations is to come.
Both must go together, or no solid and enduring result will come
forth of the experiment. It is by the neglect, either of the one
or the other of these capabilities, that we explain the languid and
stationary condition of the Gospel for so many ages; and as the
suggestion of some new expedient, before unadverted to, like the
breaking up of new ground or the opening of a tract before unexplored, raises the sinking hopes of a disappointed adventurer-so
when the praying disciple is taught the necessity of labor, and the
laborious disciple is taught the necessity of prayer —when these
two elements meet together, and co-operate as they did in the days
of the apostles-when our men of devotion become men of diligence, and our men of diligence become men of devotion-It is
from this union of humble hearts with busy hands, that we would
date the commencement of a new and a productive era in the
Church's history upon earth: And we doubt not that what the old
missionary Elliot reported and left on record of his own experience, will be found true of the collective missionary experience
of all ages, that "it is in the power of pains and of prayers to do
anything."
And we do look on the example already quoted as a verification of this. We are old enough to recollect the high-blown
spirit of adventure in which the first mission to Otaheite was undertaken; and with what eclat the missionary vessel went forth
upon her voyage, as if the flags and ensigns of victory were
already streaming in the gale; and with what eloquence were
pictured forth all the chances, if not all the certainties, of success.
We doubt not that many were dazzled into an earthly confidence,
when they looked to the complete equipment of all the human securities, that were so abundantly provided for the accomplishment
of this great enterprise. And He, at whose disposal are all
the elements of Nature, did carry it in safety to the shore. But
He, at whose disposal also are all the elements of the moral world,
taught, by humbling experience, that for these too He must be
inquired after; and a cloud of disgrace ahd disaster hung for
years over the enterprise; and the spirit, which worketh in the
children of disobedience, stood its ground among the natives; and,
more woful still, the spirit of apostasy made ravage among the




THE SUCCESS OF MISSIONS.               59
missionaries themselves; and well canll we remember the derision
and the triumph of infidelity upon the misgiving of this sanguine
speculation. We doubt not that many were effectually taught in
the arts of patience and prayer by this fatherly correction; and
led to look from the visible apparatus to the unseen Guide and
mover of it; and that there was a busier ascent of importunities
to heaven, and a louder knocking than before at the door of the
upper sanctuary. And certain it is, that, after a season of severe
but salutary chastisement, an influence, far too sudden and diffusive to be interpreted by any ordinary causes, came down upon
the island; and, by a miracle as stupendous as if it had been
newly summoned from the deep, do we now behold it a land of
genial dwelling places-the quiet and lovely home of a christianized nation.
It were now a topic by far too unwieldy, did we attempt to state
the philosophy of prayer-or to meet the antipathies of those
who have explored nature, and, as far as the light of science can
penetrate, have found in all her ways a constancy that is inflexible. But you can at least be made to understand how it is, that
the study of this world's unvaried mechanism, should have put to
flight that host of living and supernatural agencies wherewith at
one time it was held to be actuated-how after such an abundant
discovery as we now have of those trains and successions, that
appear to be invariable and altogether to make up the history of
our universe, the visions of the old mythology should all have
been dissipated; because, instead of each department in nature
being ruled by its own presiding divinity whom it is the part of
superstition to implore, in each there are its own peculiar but
steady and unchanging processes which it is the part of philosophy to investigate-that thus the spectres of a fabled imagery
have now been swept away; and nature, instead of a haunted
fairy-land, is now regarded as the stable and everlasting repository
of innumerable sequences, in whose rigid uniformity we see
nought of the caprice of will but all the certainty of mechanism.
And so in this our enlightened day, there is no account taken of
a spirit that resides in the thunder; or of a spirit in the air, at
whose bidding the storm might either be hushed or awakened; or
of a spirit in the angry deep, who might add to the wild uproar
of the tempest by mixing his own element with that which is
wielded by another potentate. The earth is now unpeopled of
its demigods; and the substitution of the laws of nature in their
place, has often been extolled as the best service which philosophy
has rendered to our species.
You may now perhaps see, by how likely and continuous a
transition it is, that men may pass from the extreme of superstition to the extreme of philosophical impiety. After that nature
has been rescued by philosophy from the dominion of separate and
subordinate deities, it may be placed by the same philosophy




60                    oN PRAYER FOR
under the absolute and irreversible dominion of secondary causes.
To guard this new dominion and make it inflexible, a supreme and
eternal spirit may even be disowned; or, at all events, it might be
reckoned indispensable, that He never should put forth His hand
on the regularities of that universe which He Himself has established. It might be difficult to assign the place or the pre-eminence of such a God over His own workmanship; or to understand how He is admitted to a share in the government of His
own world. But it is at least the imagination of many a philosopher, that all must give way to the omnipotence and the certainty of nature's laws. The interposition of the divine will with
these is utterly excluded from his creed; and the efficacy of
prayer would be deemed by him a monstrous inroad on that constancy, which he holds to be unalterable. It is thus, that, along
with the mythology of Paganism, the Theism of Christianity is
apt to be swept away; and the system of nature is reduced to
an economy of blind and unconscious fatalism.
We are obviously on the confines of a subject, that is greatly
too ponderous for a single essay; and there is imperious necessity
for limiting ourselves. Let us only then say further, that it does not
appear why an answer to prayer might not be given; and vet
all the established sequences of our world be maintained in their
wonted order, as far back as philosophy can discover them. Instead of God dispensing with the secondary causes, when He
meets and satisfies our prayers, they may be the very instruments
by which He fulfils them. When He hearkens to the supplication
that ascends for a prosperous missionary voyage-He does not
send forth a miraculous impulse upon the vessel, but causes the
very wind to arise, which, by the laws of motion, should bear her
onward to the destined haven. Even this wind might not be
originated by miracle, but spring up from that previous condition
of the air and the vapor and the heat, which, by the laws of
meteorology, should cause that very gale to blow by which the
service has been accomplished. And so to the uttermost limits of
science, to the full extent of her possible observations, all might
appear to move in strictly undeviating order. But still ulterior
to this-and between the widest confines of all which nature can
see upon the one hand, and that throne whence the Author of
nature issues forth His mandates upon the other-there is a hidden intermediate process, which connects the purposes of the
divine mind, with the visible phenomena of that universe which
He has created: And, not among the palpable things which lie in
the region of observation, but among the secret things which lie
in the dark and the deep abyss that is between the farthest reach of
man's discovery and the forthgoings of God's will-it is among
these, where that responsive touch may be given by the finger of
the Almighty, which shall guide the mechanism of our world and
without thwarting any one of its laws. He moves those springs




THE SUCCESS OF MISSIONS.               61
which be placed behind the curtain of sense and observation: and
as He may thus, in subserviency to our prayers for the success of
a missionary voyage, direct the processes of meteorology without
deranging them-so, in subserviency to our prayers for the success of misssionary work, he may so direct the metaphysics of
the human spirit in the whole business of conversion, as not to
violate any one of the laws or the processes of human thought.
It is thus that we may live under the canopy of a special providence, even on that platform of sensible things where all the trains
and successions are invariable. It is thus, that, at one and the
same time, we may be under the care of a presiding God, and
among the regularities of a harmonious Universe.
But after all, this contempt for prayer and for the doctrine of
its efficacy, is not more resolvable into a perverse philosophy,
than it is resolvable into irreligion-into that spirit of inveterate
worldliness, which is satisfied with things as they are and cares
not for any transformation; which wants not the repose of nations
to be disturbed, by this restless and aggressive proselytism; and
would rather that Paganism were left to remain fixed as it has
been for countlsss generations, in its own deep and rooted antiquity. They hate all innovation on the existing state of things;
and, as men will shut their eyes to avoid the spectacle of that
which they dislike, so will they close their understandings against
the light of that evidence, by which it now becomes every day
more manifest, that we are on the eve of great moral and spiritual
changes-that the world is heaving in fact towards some mighty
and wondrous renovation-and that on the ruins of its present
depravity, there will at length be established an order of truth
and charity and righteousness. This is all romance to the eye of
their earthly understanding, and they will in no wise believe
though a man declare it unto them; and, despising as they do the
Gospel at bottom, they despise every account which reaches them
of its progress-So that, when, instead of a report heard with the
hearing of the ear, it reaches them in characters of nearness and
authenticity —still, without the sympathy and without the discernment of its principles, they only marvel at what they cannot comprehend, and, looking on to a conversion of multitudes in which
they do not partake, they wonder and they perish.
Let me conclude with one or two brief sentences of personal
application. Those who dislike any inroad to be made on the
deep repose of heathenism, we would warn to be careful, that they
have not a dislike as violent to any inroad being made on the
deep lethargy of their own souls. Those who think of friendly
islanders and mild or peaceful Hindoos, that they stand in need
of no transformation-let them tell whether they do not think the
very same thing of themselves. They would rather that the
heathen were let alone; and would they not rather that themselves were let alone also? and are they not as incredulous about




62        ON PRAYER FOR THE SUCCESS OF MISSIONS.
the need of a regeneration for themselves as individuals, as they
are about the regeneration of a whole people? Is there not about
them a general distrust of the whole matter? —and would they
not nauseate the ministers who speak to them of the conversion of
their own spirit, just as honestly and heartily as they nauseate the
missionaries who go forth to the conversion of idolaters and savages? Then let them know, that life is passing away; and that,
in their state of nature, there is a load of guilt unexpiated, of pollution unremoved-that there is but one specific for this disease
all over the globe, and we invite them now to the Spirit who renews and to the Saviour who died for them. He is set forth a
propitiation for all sin, and God through Him beseeches them to
be reconciled. Let them persist, in contempt and unconcern no
longer-for there is an event that will soon and surely overtake
us; and which, if it find us unprepared, will excite, not the wonder of curiosity, but the amazement of terror. Death is at our
door; and let us not despise the Saviour who came to destroy
hil —lest when we hear His approaching footsteps, and receive
His last and awful summons, we grow pale and tremble and
perish.




THE
INFLUENCE OF PAROCHIAL ASSOCIATIONS
F OR THE
MORAL AND SPIRITUAL GOOD OF MANKIND




THE INFLUENCE
OF
PAROCHIAL ASSOCIATIONS
FOR THE
MORAL AND SPIRITUAL GOOD OF MANKIND.*
ARGUMENT,
1. The Objection stated.-2. The Radical Answer to it.-3. But the Objection is not
true in point of fact.-4. A former act of charity does not execmpt from the obligation of
a new act, if it can be afforded.-5. Estimate of the encroachment made by a Religious
Society upon the funds of the country.-6. A Subscriber to a Parochial Society does
not give less to the Poor on that account.-7. Evidence for the truth of this assertion.8. And explanation of its principle. (1.) The ability for other acts of charity nearly as
entire as before.-9. (2.) And the disposition greater.-10. Poverty is better kept under
by a preventive, than by a positive treatment.-11. Exemplified in Scotland.-12. A
Parochial Society has a strong preventive operation.-13. And therefore promotes the
secular interests of the Poor.-14. The argument carried down to the case of Penny
Societies. — 5. Difficulty in the exposition of the argument.-16. The effects of a charitable endowment in a Parish pernicious to the Poor.-17. By inducing a dependence
upon it.-18. And stripping them of their industrious habits.-19. The effects of a Parochial Association, such as we plead for, are in an opposite direction to those of a charitable endowment.-20. And it stands completely free of all the objections to which a tax
is liable.-21. Such an Association gives dignity to the Poor.-22. And a delicate reluctance to pauperism.-23. The shame of pauperism is the best defence against it.-24.
How a Bible Association augments this feeling. —25. By dignifying the Poor.-26. And
adding to the Influence of Bible Principles.-27. Exemplified in the humblest situation.
-28. The progress of these Associations in the country.-29. Compared with other Associations for the relief of temporal necessities.-30. The more salutary influence of
Parochial Associations.-31. And how they counteract the pernicious influence of other
charities.-32. It is best to confide the secular relief of the Poor to individual benevolence.-33. And a Parochial Association both augments and enlightens this principle.
1. WITHOUT entering into the positive claims of the Bible Society, or of any similar Association, upon the generosity of the
public, I shall endeavor to do away an objection which meets us
* This pamphlet was originally published in 1814. It must be obvious of its reasonings that they apply to every benevolent Association which has for its object the moral
and spiritual well-being of our fellow-men, whether at home or abroad. We hope,
therefore, that its republication will not be deemed unseasonable at the present moment,
when attempts are being made to enlist the general population in the pecuniary support
of Four Great Schemes, which have received the high sanction of the General Assembly
ofthe Church of Scotland.




PAROCHIAL ASSOCIATIONS.               65
at the very outset of every attempt to raise a subscription, or to
found an institution in its favor. The secular necessities of the
poor are brought into competition with it, and every shilling given
to such an Association is represented as an encroachment upon
that fund which was before allocated to the relief of poverty.
2. Admitting the fact stated in the objection to be true, we have
an answer in readiness for it. If the Bible Society accomplish its
professed object, which is, to make those who were before ignorant
of the Bible better acquainted with it, then the advantage given
more than atones for the loss sustained. We stand upon the high
ground, that eternity is longer than time, and the unfading enjoyments of the one a boon more valuable than the perishable enjoyments of the other. Money is sometimes expended, for the idle
purpose of amusing the poor by the gratuitous exhibition of a
spectacle or show. It is a far wiser distribution of the money,
when it is transferred from this object to the higher and more useful objects of feeding those among them who are hungry, clothing
those among them who are naked, and paying for medicine, or
attendance, to those among them who are sick. We make bold
to say, that if money for the purpose could be got from no other
quarter, it would be a wiser distribution still to withdraw it from
the objects last mentioned, to the supreme object of paying for the
knowledge of religion to those among them who are ignorant;
and, at the hazard of being execrated by many, we do not hesitate
to affirm, that it is better for the poor to be worse fed and worse
clothed, than that they should be left ignorant of those Scriptures,
which are able to make them wise unto salvation through the faith
that is in Christ Jesus.
3. But the statement contained in the objection is not true. It
seems to go upon the supposition, that the fund for relieving the
temporal wants of the poor is the only fund which exists in the
country; and that when any new object of benevolence is started,
there is no other fund to which we can repair for the requisite expenses. But there are other funds in the country. There is a
prodigious fund for the maintenance of Government, nor do we
wish that fund to be encroached upon by a single farthing. There
is a fund, out of which the people of the land are provided in the
necessaries of life; and before we incur the odium of trenching
upon necessaries, let us first inquire, if there be no other fund in
existence. Go then to all who are elevated above the class of
mere laborers, and you will find in their possession a fund, out of
which they are provided with what are commonly called the superfluities of life. We do not dispute their right to these superfluities, nor do we deny the quantity of pleasure which lies in
the enjoyment of them. We only state the existence of such a
fund, and that by a trifling act of self-denial, on the part of those
who possess it, we could obtain all that we are pleading for. It
is a little hard that the competition should be struck betwixt the
9




MORAL AND SPIRITUAL INFLUENCE
fund of a Parochial Association for the moral good of others, and
the fund for relieving the temporal wants of the poor, while the
far larger and more transferable fund for superfluities is left out
of consideration entirely, and suffered to remain an untouched
and unimpaired quantity. In this way the odium of hostility to
the poor is fastened upon those who are laboring for their most
substantial interests, while a set of men who neglect the immortality of the poor, and would leave their souls to perish, are suffered to sheer off with the credit of all the finer sympathies of our
nature.
4. To whom much is given, of them much will be required.
Whatever be your former liberalities in another direction, when
a new and likely direction of benevolence is pointed out, the question still comes back upon you, What have you to spare? If there
be a remainder left, it is by the extent of this remainder that you
will be judged; and it is not right to set the claims of the Parochial Association against the secular necessities of the poor, while
means so ample are left, that the true way of instituting the competition is, to set these claims against some personal gratification
which it is in your power to abandon. Have a care, lest, with
the language of philanthropy in your mouth, you shall be found
guilty of the cruelest indifference to the true welfare of the species, and lest the discerner of your heart shall perceive how it
prefers some sordid indulgence of its own to the dearest interests
of those around you.
5. But let me not put to hazard the prosperity of our cause, by
resting it on a standard of charity far too elevated for the general
practice of the times. Let us now drop our abstract reasoning
upon the respective funds, and come to an actual specification of
their quantities. The truth is, that to take one example, the fund
for the Bible Society is so very small, that it is not entitled to
make its appearance in any abstract argument whatever; and
were it not to do away even the shadow of an objection, we would
have been ashamed to have thrown the argument into the language of general discussion. What shall we think of the objection when told, that the whole yearly revenue of the Bible Society,
as derived from the contributions of those who support it, does
not amount to a half penny per month from each householder in
Britain and Ireland? Can this be considered as a serious invasion upon any one fund allotted to other destinations; and shall
the most splendid and promising enterprise that ever benevolence
was engaged in be arrested upon an objection so fanciful? We
do not want to oppress any individual by the extravagance of our
demands. It is not in great sums, but in the combination of littles,
that our strength lies. It is the power of combination which resolves the mystery. Great has been the progress and activity of
the Bible Society since its first institution. All we want is, that
this rate of activity in favor of all good associations, be kept up




OF PAROCHIAL ASSOCIATIONS.                67
and extended. The above statement will convince the reader
that there is ample room for the extension.+  The whole fund for
the secular wants of the poor may be left untouched, and, as to
the fund for luxuries, the revenue of our Christian Societies may
be augmented a hundred-fold before this fund is sensibly en.
croached upon. The veriest crumbs and sweepings of extravagance would suffice us; and it will be long, and very long, before any invasion of ours upon this fund shall give rise to any
perceivable abridgment of luxury, or have the weight of a straw
upon the general style and establishment of families.
6. But there is still another way of meeting the objection.  Let
us come immediately to a question upon the point of fact.  Does
a man, on becoming a subscriber to a Parochial Association, give
less to the secular wants of the poor than he did formerly? It is
true, there is a difficulty in the way of obtaining an answer to
this question. He who knows best what answer to give, will be
the last to proclaim it.  In as far as the subscribers themselves
are concerned, we must leave the answer to their own experience,
and sure we are that that experience will not be against us. But
it is not from this quarter that we can expect to obtain the wishedfor information. The benevolence of an individual does not stand
out to the eye of the public. The knowledge of its operations is
confined to the little neighborhood within which it expatiates. It
is often kept from the poor themselves; and then the information
we are in quest of is shut up with the giver in the silent consciousness of his own bosom, and with God in the book of His
remembrance.
7. But much good has been done of late years by the combined
exertions of individuals; and benevolence, when operating in this
way, is necessarily exposed to public observation. Subscriptions
have been started for almost every one object which benevolence
can devise, and the published lists may furnish us with data for a
partial solution of the proposed question. In point of fact, then,
those who subscribe for a religious object, subscribe with the
greatest readiness and liberality for the relief of human affliction, under all the various forms in which it pleads for sympathy.
This is quite notorious. The human mind, by singling out the
eternity of others as the main object of its benevolence, does not
withdraw itself from the care of sustaining them on the way which
leads to eternity. It exerts an act of preference, but not an act
of exclusion. A friend of Inine has been indebted to an active
and beneficent patron for a lucrative situation in a distant country.
But he wants money to pay his travelling expenses.  I commit
every reader to his own experience of human nature, when I rest
with him the assertion, that if real kindness lay at the bottom of
this act of patronage, the patron himself is the likeliest quarter
* Could we obtain a penny a-week, not from each individual, but from each family
in Scotland-this alone would yield a hundred thousand pounds in the year.




o~S~         IMORAL AND SPIRITUAL INFLUENCE
from which the assistance will come. The man who signalizes
himself by his religious charities, is not the last but the first man
to whom I would apply in behalf of the sick and the destitute.
The two principles are not inconsistent. They give support and
nourishment to each other, or, rather, they are exertions of the
same principle. This will appear in full display on the day of
judgment; and even in this dark and undiscerning world, enough
of evidence is before us upon which the benevolence of the Christian stands nobly vindicated, and from which it may be shown,
that, while its chief care is for the immortality of others, it casts
a wide and a wakeful eye over all the necessities and sufferings of
the species.
8. Nor have we far to look for the explanation. The two elements which combine to form an act of charity, are the ability
and the disposition; and the question simply resolves itself into
this, "In how far these elements will survive a donation to a
Parochial Association for religious objects, so as to leave the other
charities unimpaired by it?" It is certainly conceivable, that an
individual may give every spare farthing of his income to this institution. In this case, there is a total extinction of the first element. But, in point of fact, this is never done, or done so rarely
as not to be admited into any general argument. With by far the
greater number of subscribers, the ability is not sensibly encroached upon. There is no visible retrenchment in the superfluities of life. A very slight and partial change in the direction
of that fund which is familiarly known by the name of pocketmoney, can, generally speaking, provide for the whole amount of
the donation in question. There are a thousand floating and incidental expenses, which can be given up without almost the feeling of a sacrifice; and the diversion of a few of them to the charity we are pleading for, leaves the ability of the giver to all sense
as entire as before.
9. But the second element is subject to other laws, and the
formal calculations of arithmetic do not apply to it. The disposition is not like the ability, a given quantity which suffers an abstraction by every new exercise.  The effect of a donation upon
the purse of the giver, is not the same with the moral influence
of that donation upon his heart. Yet the two are assimilated by
our antagonists; and the pedantry of computation carries them to
results which are in the face of all experience. It is not so easy
to awaken the benevolent principle out of its sleep, as, when once
awakened in behalf of one object, to excite and to interest it in
behalf of another. When the bar of selfishness is broken down,
and the flood-gates of the heart are once opened, the stream of
beneficence can be turned into a thousand directions. It is true,
that there can be no beneficence without wealth, as there can be
no stream without water. It is conceivable, that the opening of
the flood-gates may give rise to no flow, as the opening of the




OF PAROCHIAL ASSOCIATIONS.               69
poor man's heart to the distresses of those around him may give
rise to no act of almsgiving. But we have already proved the
abundance of wealth; (N. B. see S.)  It is the selfishness of the
inaccessible heart which forms the mighty barrier; and if this
could be done away, a thousand fertilizing streams would issue
from it. Now, this is what our Parochial Associations, in many
instances, have accomplished. They have unlocked the avenue
to many a heart, which was before inaccessible. They have
come upon them with all the energy of a popular and prevailing
impulse. They have created in them a new taste and a new
principle. They have opened the fountain, and we are sure that,
in every district of the land where a Parochial Association exists,
the general principle of benevolence is more active and more expanding than ever.
10. And after all, what is the best method of providing for the
secular necessities of the poor? Is it by laboring to meet the
necessity after it has occurred, or by laboring to establish a principle and a habit which would go far to prevent its existence? If
you wish to get rid of a noxious stream, you may first try to intercept it by throwing across a barrier; but, in this way, you only
spread the pestilential water over a greater extent of ground, and
when the basin is filled, a stream as copious as before is formed
out of its overflow. The most effectual method, were it possible
to carry it into accomplishment, would be, to dry up the source.
The parallel in a great measure holds. If you wish to extinguish
poverty, combat with it in its first elements. If you confine your
beneficence to the relief of actual poverty, you do nothing.  Dry
up, if possible, the spring of poverty, for every attempt to intercept the running stream has totally failed. The education and
the religious principle of Scotland have not annihilated pauperism,
but they have restrained it to a degree that is almost incredible to
our neighbors of the south: they keep down the mischief in its
principle; they impart a sobriety and a right sentiment of independence to the character of our peasantry; they operate as a
check upon profligacy and idleness. The maintenance of parish
schools is a burden upon the landed property of Scotland, but it
is a cheap defence against the poor rates. a burden far heavier,
and which is aggravating perpetually. The writer of this paper
knows of a parish in Fife, the average maintenance of whose poor
is defrayed by twenty-four pounds sterling a year; and of a
parish, of the same population, in Somersetshire, where the annual assessments come to thirteen hundred pounds sterling.  The
preventive regimen of the one country does more than the positive applications of the other. In England, they have suffered
poverty to rise to all the virulence of a formed and obstinate disease. But they may as well think of arresting the destructive
progress of a torrent by throwing across an embankment, as think




70            MORAL AND SPIRITUAL INFLUENCE
that the mere positive administration of relief will put a stop to the
accumulating mischiefs of poverty.
11. The exemption of Scotland from the miseries of pauperism,
is due to the education which their people receive at schools, and
to the Bible which their scholarship gives them access to. The
man who subscribes to the divine authority of this simple saying,
"' If any would not work, neither should he eat," possesses, in the
good treasure of his own heart, a far more effectual security
against the hardships of indigence, than the man who is trained,
by the legal provisions of his country, to sit in slothful dependence
upon the liberalities of those around him. It is easy to be eloquent
in the praise of those liberalities; but the truth is, that they may
be carried to the mischievous extent of forming a depraved and
beggarly population.  The hungry expectations of the poor will
ever keep pace with the assessments of the wealthy; and their
eve will be averted from the exertion of their own industry, as the
only right source of comfort and independence. It is quite in
vain to think that positive relief will ever do away the wretchedness of poverty. Carry the relief beyond a certain limit, and you
foster the diseased priiciple which gives birth to poverty. On
this subject the people of England felt themselves of late to be in
a state of almost inextricable helplessness; and they were not
without their fears of some mighty convulsion, to come upon them
with all the energy of a tempest, before this devouring mischief
could be swept away from the face of their community.
12. The best thing to avert this calamity from England is the
education of their peasantry; and this is a cause to which the
Religious Societies are contributing their full share of influence.
A zeal for the circulation of the Bible is inseparable from a zeal
foir extending among the people the capacity of reading it; and it
is not to be conceived, that the very same individual can be eager
for the introduction of this volume into our cottages, and sit inactive under the galling reflection, that it is still a sealed book to
many thousands of the occupiers. Accordingly we find, that the
two concerns are keeping pace with one another. The Bible Society does not overstep the simplicity of its assigned object; but
the members of that Society receive an impulse from the cause,
which carries them to promote the education of the poor, either
by their individual exertions, or by giving their support to the
Society for Schools. The two Societies move in concert. Each
contributes an essential element in the business of enlightening
the people. This one furnishes the book of knowledge, and the
other furnishes the key to it. This division of employment. as in
every other instance, facilitates the work, and renders it more
effective. But it does not hinder the same individual from giving
his countenance to both; and sure I am, that the man whose feelings have been already warmed, and whose purse has been already
drawn in behalf of the Cone. is a likelier subject for an application




OF PAROCHIAL ASSOCIATIONS.               71
in behalf of the other, than he whose money is still untouched, but
whose heart is untouched also.
13. It will be seen, then, that our Parochial Societies are not
barely defensible, but may be plead for upon that ground on which
their enemies have raised an opposition to them. Their immediate object is, neither to feed the hungry nor to clothe the naked
but, in every country under the benefit of their exertions, there
will be less hunger to feed, and less nakedness to clothe. They
do not cure actual poverty, but they anticipate eventual poverty.
T'hey aim their decisive thrust at the heart and principle of the
mischief; and, instead of suffering it to form into the obstinacy of
an inextirpable disease, they smother and destroy it in the infancy
of its first elements. The love which worketh no ill to his neighbor, will not suffer the true Christian to live in idleness upon
another's bounty; and he will do as Paul did before him; he will
labor with his hands rather than be burdensome. Could we reform
the improvident habits of the people, and pour the healthful infusion of Scripture principle into their hearts, it would reduce the
existing poverty of the land to a very humble fraction of its present extent. We make bold to say, that, in ordinary times, there
is not one-tenth of the pauperism of England due to unavoidable
misfortune.  It has grown out of a vicious and impolitic system;
and the millions which are raised every year have only served to
nourish and extend it. Now, Religious Education is a prime
agent in the work of counteracting this disorder. Its mode of
proceeding carries in it all the cheapness and all the superior
efficacy of a preventive operation.  With a revenue not equal to
the poor rates of many a county, it is doing more even for the
secular interests of the poor than all the charities of England
united; and while a puling and injudicious sympathy is pouring
out its complaints against the Societies which support this education, it is sowing the seeds of character and independence. and
rearing, for future days, the spectacle of a thriving, substantial,
and well-conditioned peasantry.
14. I have hitherto been supposing, that the rich only are the
givers, but I now call on the poor to be sharers in this work of
charity. It is true, that of these poor there are some who depend
on charity for their subsistence, and these have no right to give
what they receive from others. And there are some who have
not arrived at this state of dependence, but are on the very verge
of it. Let us keep back no part of the truth from them.  "If
any provide not for his own, and especially for those of his own
house, he hath denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel."
There are others, again, and these I apprehend form by far the
most numerous class of society, who can maintain themselves in
humble but honest independence, who can spare a little, and not
feel it; who can do what Paul advises,* lay aside their penny a* 1 Corinthians xvi. 2.




72            MORAL AND SPIRITUAL INFLUENCE
week as God hath prospered them; who can share that blessedness which the Saviour spoke of when he said, It is more blessed
to give than to receive; who though they cannot equal their
richer neighbors in the amount of their donation, can bestow their
something, and can, at all events, carry in their bosom a heart as
warm to the cause, and call down as precious a blessing from the
God who witnesses it. A Parochial Society is opposed, on the
ground of its diverting a portion of relief from the secular necessities of the poor, even when the rich only are called upon to
support it. When the application for support is brought down to
the poor themselves, and, instead of the recipients, it is proposed
to make them the dispensers of charity, we may lay our account
with the opposition being still more clamorous. We undertake to
prove, that this opposition is founded on a fallacy, and that, by interesting the great mass of a parish in the objects of religious benevolence, and assembling them into a penny association for their
support, you raise a defence against the extension of pauperism.
15. We feel a difficulty in this undertaking, not from any uncertainty which hangs over the principle, but from the difficulty
of bringing forward a plain and popular exhibition of it. However familiar the principle may be to a student of political science,
it carries in it an air of paradox to the multitude, and it were
well if this air of paradox were the only obstacle to its reception.
But to the children of poesy and fine sentiment, the principle in
question carries in it an air of barbarity also, and all the rigor of
a pure and impregnable argument has not been able to protect
the conclusions of Malthus from  their clamorous indignation.
There is a kind of hurrying sensibility about them, which allows
neither time nor temper for listening to any calculation on the
subject; and there is not a more striking vanity under the sun,
than that the substantial interests of the poor have suffered less
from the maglignant and the unfeeling, than from those who
give without wisdom, and who feel without consideration:
Blessed is he that wisely doth
The poor man's case consider.
16. Let me put the case of two parishes, in the one of whicn
there is a known and public endowment, out of which an annual
sum is furnished for the maintenance of the poor; and that in the
other there is no such endowment. At the outset, the poor of the
first parish may be kept in greater comfort than the poor of the
second; but it is the lesson of all experience, that no annual sum,
however great, will be able to keep them permanently in greater
comfort. The certain effect of an established provision for the
poor is, a relaxation of their economical habits, and an increased
number of improvident marriages. When their claim to a provision is known, that claim is always counted upon, and it were




OF PAROCHIAL ASSOCIATIONS.               73
well, if to flatter their natural indolence, they did not carry the
calculation beyond the actual benefit they can ever receive. But
this is what they always do. When a public charity is known
and counted upon, the relaxation of frugal and providential habits
is carried to such an extent, as not only to absorb the whole produce of the charity, but to leave new wants unprovided for, and
the effect of the benevolent institution is just to create a population
more wretched and more clamorous than ever.
17. In the second parish, the economical habits of the people
are kept unimpared, and just because their economy is forced to
take a higher aim, and to persevere in it. The aim of the first
people is, to provide for themselves a part of their maintenance;
the aim of the second people is to provide for themselves their
whole maintenance. We do not deny that even among the latter
we will meet with distress and poverty, just such distress and
such poverty as are to be found in the average of Scottish parishes. This finds its alleviation in private benevolence. To alleviate poverty is all that can be done for it: to extinguish it we fear
is hopeless. Sure we are, that the known and regular provisions
of England will never extinguish it, and that, in respect of the
poor themselves, the second parish is under a better system than
the first. The poor rates are liable to many exceptions, but there
is none of them more decisive with him who cares for the eternity
of the poor, than the temptation they hold out to positive guilt,
the guilt of not working with their own hands, and so becoming
burdensome to others."
18. Let us conceive a political change in the circumstances of
the country, and that the public charity of the first parish fell
among the ruin of other institutions. Then its malignant influence would be felt in all its extent; and it would be seen, that it,
in fact, had impoverished those whom it professed to sustain, that
it had stript them of a possession far more valuable than all it had
ever given; that it had stript them of industrious habits, and left
those whom its influence never reached wealthier in the resources
of their own superior industry, than the artificial provisions of an
unwise and meddling benevolence could ever make them.
19. The comparison betwixt these two parishes paves the way
for another comparison. Let me now put the case of a third
parish, where a Parochial Association is instituted, and where the
simple regulation of a penny a-week throws it open to the bulk
of the people. What effect has this upon their economical habits?
It just throws them at a greater distance from the thriftlessness
which prevails in the first parish, and leads them to strike a
higher aim in the way of economy than the people of the second.
The general aim of economy, in humble life, is to keep even with
the world; but it is known to every man at all familiar with that
class of society, that the great majority may strike their aim a little
* Acts xx. 35. 1 Timothy v. 8.
10




74             MORAL AND SPIRITUAL INFLUENCE
higher, and, in point of fact, have it in their power to redeem an annual sum from the mere squanderings of mismanagement and carelessness. The unwise provisions in the first parish, have had the
effect of sinking the income of the poor below their habits of expenditure, and they are brought, permanently and irrecoverably brought,
into a state of pauperism. In the second parish, the income, generally speaking, is even with the habits of expenditure. In the third
the income is above the habits of expenditure, and above it by the
annual sum contributed to the Parochial Society. The circumstance
of being members to such a Society throws them at a greater distance from pauperism than if they had not been members of it.
20. The effect on the economical habits of the people would
just be the same in whatever way the stated annual sum was obtained from them, even though a compulsory tax were the instrument of raising it.~- This assimilation of our plan to a tax, may
give rise to a world of' impetuous declamation; but let it ever be
remembered, that the institution of a Parochial Society gives you
the whole benefit of such a tax, without its odiousness. It brings
up their economy to a higher pitch; but it does so, not in the way
which they resist, but in the way which they choose. The single
circumstance of its being a voluntary act, forms the defence and
the answer to all the clamors of an affected sympathy. You take
from the poor. No! they give.-You take beyond their ability.
Of this they are the bestjudges.-You abridge their comforts!
No! there is a comfort in the exercise of charity: there is a comfort in the act of lending a hand to a noble enterprise; there is a
comfort in the contemplation of its progress; there is a comfort in
rendering a service to a friend, and when that friend is the Saviour, and that service the circulation of the message he left behind
him, it is a comfort which many of the poor are ambitious to share
in. Leave them to judge of their comfort; and if, in point of fact,
they do give their penny a-week to a Parochial Society, it just
speaks them to have more comfort in this way of spending it, than
in any other which occurs to them.
21. Perhaps it does not occur to those friends of the poor, while
they are sitting in judgment on their circumstances and feelings,
how unjustly and how unworthily they think of them. They do
not conceive how truth and benevolence can be at all objects
to them; and suppose, that after they have got the meat to feed,
the house to shelter, the raiment to cover them, there is nothing
else that they will bestow a penny upon. They may not be able
to express their feelings on a suspicion so ungenerous, but I shall
do it for them: "We have souls as well as you, and precious to
our hearts is the Saviour who died for them. It is true, we have
our distresses; but these have bound us more firmly to our Bibles,
* I must here suppose the sum to be a stated one, and a feeling of security on the part
of the people, that the tax shall not be subject to variation, at the caprice of an arbitrary,government.




OF PAROCHIAL ASSOCIATIONS.              75
and it is the desire of our hearts, that a gift so precious should be
sent to the poor of other countries. The word of God is our hope
and our rejoicing; we desire that it may be theirs also, that the
wandering savage may know it and be glad, and the poor negro,
under the lash of his master, mav be told of a Master in heaven,
who is full of pity and full of kindness. Do you think that sympathy for such as these is your peculiar attribute? Know, that
our hearts are made of the same materials with your own; that
we can feel as well as you; and out of the earnings of a hard and
an honest industry, we shall give an offering to the cause; nor shall
we cease our exertions till the message of salvation be carried
round the globe, and made known to the countless millions who
live in guilt, and who die in darkness."
22. And here it is obvious, that a superior habit of economy is
not the only defence which a Parochial Society raises against
pauperism. The smallness of the sum contributed may give a littleness to this argument; but not, let it be remembered, without
giving an equal littleness to the objection of those who declaim
against the institution, on the ground of its oppressiveness to the
poor contributors. The great defence which such a Society
establishes against pauperism, is, the superior tone of dignity and
independence which it imparts to the character of him who supports it. He stands on the high ground of being a dispenser of
charity; and before he can submit to become a recipient of charity,
he must let himself farther down than a poor man in ordinary circumstances.  To him the transition will be more violent; and
the value of this principle will be acknowledged by all who perceive that it is reluctance on the part of the poor man to become
a pauper, which forms the mighty barrier against the extension
of pauperism. A man, by becoming the member of a benevolent
association, puts himself into the situation of a giver. He stands
at a greater distance than before from the situation of a receiver.
He has a wider interval to traverse before he can reach this point.
He will feel it a greater degradation; and to save himself from it,
he will put forth all his powers of frugality and exertion. The
idea of restraining pauperism  by external administrations seems
now to be generally abandoned. But could we thus enter into the
hearts of the poor, we would get in at the root of the mischief,
and by fixing there a habit of economy and independence, more
would be done for them, than by all the liberalities of all the opulent.
23. In those districts of Scotland where poor rates are unknown, the descending avenue which leads to pauperism is powerfully guarded by the stigma which attaches to it. Remove this
stigma, and our cottagers, now rich in the possession of contentment and industry, would resign their habits, and crowd into the
avenue by thousands. The shame of descending, is the powerful
stimulus which urges them to a manful contest with the difficulties




76             MORAL AND SPIRITUAL INFLUENCE
of their situation, and which bears them through in all the pride of
honest independence. Talk of this to the people of the South,
and it sounds in their ears like an Arcadian story. But there is
not a clergyman amongst us who has not witnessed the operation
of the principle in all its fineness, and in all its moral delicacy; and
surely a testimony is due to those village heroes who so nobly
struggle with the difficulties of pauperism, that they may shun
and surmount its degradation.
24. A Parochial Association gives additional vigor and buoyancy to this elevated principle. The trifle which it exacts from
its contributor is, in truth, never missed by him; but it puts him
in the high attitude of a giver, and every feeling which it inspires
is on the side of independence and delicacy. Go over each of
these feelings separately, and you find that they are all fitted to
fortify his dislike at the shame and dependence of pauperism.
There is a consciousness of importance which unavoidably attaches to the share he has taken in the support and direction of a
public charity. There is the expanding effect of the information
which comes to him through the medium of the circulated Reports, which lays before him the mighty progress of an institution
reaching to all countries, and embracing in its ample grasp, the
men of all latitudes and all languages, which deeply interests him
in the object, and perpetuates his desire of promoting it. A man
with his heart so occupied, and his attention so directed, is not
capable of a voluntary descent to pauperism. He has, in fact, become a more cultivated and intellectual being than formerly. His
mind gathers an enlargement froml the wide and animating contemplations which are set before him; and we appeal to the reflection of every reader, if such a man will descend as readily to
a dependence on the charity of others, as he whose mind is void
of information, and whose feelings are void of dignity.
25. In such associations, the rich and the poor meet together.
They share in one object, and are united by the sympathy of one
feeling, and of one interest. We have not to look far into human
nature to be convinced of the happy and the harmonizing influence which this must have upon society; and how, in the glow
of one common cordiality, all asperity and discontent must give
way to the kindlier principles of our nature. The days have
been, when the very name of an association carried terror and
suspicion along with it. In a Parochial Association for religious
objects there is nothing which our rulers need to be afraid of; and
they may rest assured, that the moral influence of such institutions
is all on the side of peace and loyalty. But to confine myself to
the present argument. Who does not see that they exalt the general tone and character of our people; that they bhi ing them nearer
to the dignity of superior and cultivated life; and that, therefore,
though their direct aim is not to mitigate poverty, they go a certain way to dry up the most abundant of its sources?




OF PAROCHIAL ASSOCIATIONS.               77
26. Let me add, that the direct influence of Bible principles is
inseparable from a zeal for the circulation of the Bible. It is not
to be conceived, that anxiety for sending it to others can exist,
while there is no reverence for it among ourselves; and we appeal to those districts where such associations have been formed,
if a more visible attention to the Bible, and a more serious impression of its authority, is not the consequence of them. Now
the lessons of this Bible are all on the side of industry. They
tell us, that it is more blessed to give than to receive, and that,
therefore, a man who, by his own voluntary idleness, is brought
under the necessity of receiving, has disinherited himself of a
blessing. The poor must have bread, but the Bible commands
and exhorts, that wherever it is possible, that bread should be
their own, and that all who are able should make it their own by
working for it.* No precept can be devised which bears more
directly on the source of pauperism. The minister who, in his
faithful exposition of the Bible, urged this precept successfully
upon his people, would do much to extinguish pauperism amongst
them. It is true, that he does not always urge successfully; but
surely if' success is to be more looked for in one quarter than in
another, it is among the pious and intelligent peasantry whom he
has assembled around him, whom he has formed into a little society
for the circulation of the Bible, and whose feelings he has interested in this purest and worthiest of causes.
27. Nor is the operation of this principle confined to the actual contributor. We have no doubt that it has been beautifully
exemplified, even among those, who, unable to give their penny
a week, either stand on the very verge of pauperism, or have got
within its limits. They are unable to give anything of their own,
but they may be able at the same time to forego the wonted allowance which they received from another, or a part of it. The refusals of the poor to take an offered charity, or to take the whole
amount of the offer, are quite familiar to a Scottish clergyman;
and the plea on which they set the refusal, that it would be taking
from others who are even needier than they, entitles them, when
honestly advanced, to all the praise of benevolence. A spirit of
pious attachment to the Bible would prompt a refusal of the same
kind. " You have other and higher claims upon you-you have
the spiritual necessities of the world to provide for, and, that you
may be the more able to make the provision, leave me to the frugality of my own management.' In this way the principle descends, and carries its healthful influence into the very regions of
pauperism. It is the only principle competent to its extirpation.
The obvious expedient of a positive supply, to meet the wants of
existing poverty, has failed, and the poor rates of England will
ever be a standing testimony to the utter inefficiency of this expedient, which, instead of killing the disease, has rooted and con* 2 Thes. iii. 12.




78            MORAL AND SPIRITUAL INFLUENCE
firmed it. Try the other expedient, then. The remedy against the
extension of pauperism does not lie in the liberalities of the rich.
It lies in the hearts and habits of the poor. Plant in their bosoms a
principle of independence. Give a higher tone of delicacy to their
characters. Teach them to recoil from pauperism as a degradation.
The degradation may at times be unavoidable; but the thing which
gives such alarming extent to the mischief, is the debasing influence
of the poor rates, whereby, in the vast majority of instances, the
degradation is voluntary. But if there be an exalting influence in
Parochial Associations to counteract this; if they foster a right
spirit of importance; above all, if they secure a readier submission
to the lessons of the volume which they are designed to circulate,
who does not see, that in proportion as they are multiplied and extended over the face of the country, they carry along with them the
most effectual regimen for preventing the extension of poverty?
28. And here it may be asked, if it be at all likely that these
Associations will extend to such a degree, as to have a sensible
influence upon the habits of the country? Nothing more likely.
A single individual of influence in each parish, would make the
system universal. In point of fact, it is making progress every
month; and such is the wonderful spirit of exertion which is now
abroad, that in a few years every little district of the land may
become the seat of a Parochial Society. We are now upon the
dawn of very high anticipations; and the wholesome effect upon
the habits and principles of the people at home is not the least of
them. That part of the controversy which relates to the direct
merits of the objects of our Parochial Associations, may be looked
upon'as already exhausted; and could the objection, founded on
their interference with the relief of the poor, be annihilated, or
still more, could it be converted into a positive argument in their
behalf, we are not aware of a single remaining plea, upon which a
rational or benevolent man can refuse his concurrence to them.
29. And the plea of conceived injury to the poor deserves to
be attended to. It wears an amiable complexion, and we believe,
that, in some instances, a real sympathy with their distresses lies
at the bottom of it. Let sympathy be guided by consideration.
It is the part of a Christian to hail benevolence in all its forms;
but when a plan is started for the relief of the destitute, is he to
be the victim of a popular and sentimental indignation, because
he ventures to take up the question whether the plan be really an
effective one? We know that in various towns of Scotland, you
meet with two distinct Penny Societies, one an Association for
religious objects, the other for the relief of the indigent. It is to
be regretted, that there should ever be any jealousy betwixt them;
but we believe that, agreeably to what we have already said, it
will often be found that the one suggested the other, and that the
supporters of the former, are the most zealous, and active, and
useful friends of the latter. We cannot however suppress the




OF PAROCHIAL ASSOCIATIONS.                 79
fact, that there is now a growing apprehension lest the growth of
the latter Societies should break down the delicacies of the lower
orders, and pave the way for a permanent introduction of poor
rates. There is a pretty general impression, that the system may
be carried too far; and the uncertainty as to the precise limit, has
given the feeling to many, who embarked with enthusiasm, that
they are now engaged in a ticklish and questionable undertaking.
I do not attempt either to confirm or to refute this impression, but
I account it a piece of justice to the associations I am pleading for,
to assert, that they stand completely free of every such exception.
Our associations are making steady advances towards the attainment of their object, and the sure effect of multiplying the subscribers, is to conduct them in a shorter time to the end of their
labors. A Society for the relief of temporal necessities, is grasping at an object that is completely unattainable; and the mischief
is, that the more known, and the more extensive, and the more
able it becomes, it is sure to be more counted on, and at last to
create more poverty than it provides for. A Bible Society, for
example, aims at making every land a land of Bibles; and this
aim it will accomplish after it has translated the Bible into all
languages, and distributed a sample large enough to create a native and a universal demand for them.*  After the people of the
world have acquired such a taste for the Bible, and such a sense
of its value, as to purchase it for themselves, the Society terminates
its career; and, instead of the corruptions and abuses which other
charities scatter in their way, it leaves the poor to whom it gives,
more enlightened, and the poor from whom it takes, more elevated
than it found them.
30. "Charity," says Shakspeare, "is twice blest.  It blesses
him who gives, and him who takes." This is far from being
universally true. There is a blessing annexed to the heart which
deviseth liberal things. Perhaps the founder of the English poor
rates acquired this blessing; but the indolence and depravity
which they have been the instrument of spreading over the face
of the country, are incalculable.  If we wish to see the assertion
of the Poet realized in its full extent, go to such a charity as we
are now pleading for, where the very exercise of giving on the
one hand, and the instruction received on the other, have the effect
of narrowing the limits of pauperism, by creating a more virtuous
and dignified population.
31. There is poverty to be met with in every land, and we are
ready to admit, that a certain proportion of it is due to unavoidable misfortune.  But it is no less true, that in those countries
where there is a known and established provision for the necessities of the poor, the greater proportion of the poverty which
* But this native demand never will be created without the exertion of missionaries;
and the above reasoning applies, in its most important parts, to Missionary Associations.
See Appendix.




so              MORAL AND SPIRITUAL INFLUENCE
exists in them is due to the debasing influence of a public charity
on the habits of the people. The institution we are pleading for
counteracts this influence. It does not annihilate all poverty, but
it tends to annihilate the greater part of it. It arrests the progress
of the many who were making a voluntary descent to pauperism,
and it leaves none to be provided for but the few who have honestly struggled against their distresses, and have struggled in vain.
32. And how shall they be provided for? You may erect a
public institution. This, in fact, is the same with erecting a signal
of invitation, and the voluntary and self-created poor will rush in,
to the exclusion of those modest and unobtrusive poor who are
the genuine objects of charity. This is the never-failing mischief
of a known and established provision,* and it has been sadly exemplified in England. The only method of doing away the mischief is to confide the relief of the poor to individual benevolence.
This draws no dependence along with it. It is not counted upon
like a public and proclaimed charity. It brings the claims of the
poor under the discriminating eye of a neighbor, who will make
a difference betwixt a case of genuine helplessness, and a case of
idleness or misconduct. It turns the tide of benevolence into its
true channel; and it will ever be found, that under its operation,
the poverty of misfortune is better seen to, and the poverty of
improvidence and guilt is more effectually prevented.
33. My concluding observation then is, that the extension of
Parochial Societies, while it counteracts in various directions the
mischief of the poor rates, augments that principle of individual
benevolence, which is the best substitute for poor rates. You add
to the stock of individual benevolence, by adding to the number
of benevolent individuals; and this is the genuine effect of a Parochial Association. Or, you add to the stock of individual benevolence in a country, by adding to the intensity of the benevolent
principle; and this is the undoubted tendency of a Parochial
Association.t  And, what is of mighty importance in this argument, a Parochial Association for these higher objects not only
awakens the benevolent principle, but it enlightens it. It establishes an intercourse betwixt the various orders of society; and,
on no former occasion in the history of this country, have the rich
and the poor come so often together upon a footing of good will.
The kindly influence of this is incalculable. It brings the poor
under the eye of their richer neighbors. The visits and inquiries
connected with the objects of our Parochial Societies, bring them
into contact with one another. The rich come to be more skilled
in the wants and difficulties of the poor; and, by entering their
* We must here except all those institutions, the object of which is to provide for involuntary distress, such as hospitals and dispensaries, and asylums for the lunatic or the
blind. A man may resign himself to idleness, and become wilfully poor, that he may eat
of the public bread; but he will not become wilfully sick or maimed, that he may receive
medicines from a dispensary, or undergo an operation in a hospital.
t See 9.




OF PAROCHIAL ASSOCIATIONS.                           81
houses, and joining with them in conversation, they not only acquire a benevolence towards them, but they gather that knowledge
which is so essential to guide and enlighten their benevolence.*
* There never perhaps was so minute and statistical a survey of the poor families in
London, as by the friends and agents of the Bible Society. That this survey has given
rise to many deeds of secular benevolence, I do not know from any positive information;
but I assert it upon the confidence I repose in the above principles, and am willing to
risk upon this assertion the credit of the whole argument.
11




APPENDIX.
IT is evident, that the above reasoning applies, in its chief parts, to benevolent Associations instituted for any other religious purpose. It is not necessary
for example to restrict the argument to the case of Bible Associations. I should
be sorry if the Bible Society were to engross the religious benevolence of the
public, and if, in the multiplication of its auxiliaries over the face of the country,
it were to occupy the whole ground, and leave no room for the great and important claims of other institutions.
Of this I conceive that there is little danger. The revenue of each of these
Societies is founded upon voluntary contributions, and what is voluntary may
be withdrawn or transferred to other objects. I may give both to a Bible and
a Missionary Society: or, if I can only afford to give to one, I may select
either, according to my impression of their respective claims. In this way a
vigilant and discerning public will suit its benevolence to the urgency of the
case, and it is evident that each institution can employ the same methods for
obtaining patronage and support. Each can, and does bring forward a yearly
statement of its claims and necessities. Each has the same access to the public,
through the medium of the pulpit or the press. Each can send its advocates
over the face of the country; and every individual, forming his own estimate
of their respective claims, will apportion his benevolence accordingly.
Now what is done by an individual, may be done by every such Association
as I am now pleading for. Its members may sit in judgment on the various
schemes of utility which are now in operation; and, though originally formed
as an auxiliary to the Bible Society, it may keep itself open to other calls, and
occasionally give of its funds to Missionaries, or Moravians, or the Society for
Gaelic Schools, or the African Institution, or to the Jewish, and Baptist, and
Hibernian, and Lancasterian Societies.
In point of fact, the subordinate Associations of the country are tending
towards this arrangement, and it is a highly beneficial arrangement. It carries
in it a most salutary control over all these various institutions, each laboring to
maintain itself in reputation with the public, and to secure the countenance
of this great patron. Indolence and corruption may lay hold of an endowed
charity, but when the charity depends upon public favor, a few glaring examples of mismanagement would annihilate it.
During a few of the first years of the Bible Society, the members of other
Societies were alarmed at the rapid extension of its popularity, and expressed
their fears lest it should engross all the attention and benevolence of the religious public. But the reverse has happened, and a principle made use of in
the body of this pamphlet may be well illustrated by the history of this
matter.* The Bible Society has drawn a great yearly sum of money from the
public; and the first impression was that it would exhaust the fund for religious charities. But while it drew money from the hand, it sent a fresh and
powerful excitement of Christian benevolence into the heart; and, under the
* See 9.




APPENDIX.                              83
influence of this creative principle, the fund has extended to such a degree, as
not only to meet the demands of the new Society, but to yield a more abundant revenue to the older Societies than ever. We believe, that the excitement goes much further than this, and that many a deed of ordinary charity
could be traced to the impulse of the cause we are pleading for. We hazard
the assertion, that many thousands of those who contribute to the Bible Society, find in themselves a greater readiness to every good work,* since the
period of their connection with it, and that in the wholesome channel of individual benevolence, more hunger is fed, and more nakedness clothed, throughout
the land than at any period anterior to the formation of our Religious Societies.
The alarm, grounded upon the tendency of these Societies, with their vast
revenues, to impoverish the country, is ridiculous. If ever their total revenue
shall amount to a sum which can make it worthy of consideration to an enlightened economist at all, it may be proved that it trenches upon no national
interest whatever; that it leaves population and Public Revenue on precisely
the same footing of extent and prosperity in which it found them; and that it
interferes with no one object which Patriot or Politician needs to care for. In
the meantime it may suffice to state, that the Income of all th, Bible and
Missionary Societies in the Island, would not do more than defray the annual
maintenance of one Ship of the Linef.   When put by the side of the millions
which are lavished without a sigh, on the enterprises of war, it is nothing; and
shall this veriest trifle be grudged to the advancement of a cause, which, when
carried to its accomplishment, will put an end to war, and banish all its passions and atrocities from the world?
I should be sorry if Penny Associations were to bind themselves down to the
support of the Bible Society.  I should like to see them exercising a judgment
over the numerous claims which are now before the public, and giving occasionally of their funds to other religious institutions. The effect of this very
exercise would be to create a liberal and well-informed peasantry; to open a
wider sphere to their contemplations; and to raise the standard, not merely of
piety, but of general intelligence amongst them. The diminution of pauperism
is only part of the general effect which the multiplication of these Societies
will bring about in the country; and if my limits allowed me I might expatiate
on their certain influence in raising the tone and character of the British Population.$
* Titus iii. 1.                   t This calculation applies to the year 1814.
It is thought by some that the assumption of the title " Bible Association," carries
in it an obligation to devote all the funds to the Bible Society. The title may easily be
modified so as to leave the most entire liberty to every Association to give of its funds to
any Religious Society whatever.




ON THE CONSISTENCY
OF THE
LEGAL AND VOLUNTARY PRINCIPLES,
AND THE
JOINT SUPPORT WHICH THEY MIGHT RENDER
TO THE CAUSE BOTH OF
CHRISTIAN AND COMMON EDUCATION.
THERE is nothing more palpable on the face of Jewish history,
than the connection which obtains between the personal character
of the monarch and the general prosperity of the kingdom. And
it is alike obvious, that the one stood related to the other in the
way of cause and consequence, from the interest which the religion that sways the heart of the king led him to take in the religion
of his people. It was at the direct charge or bidding of Jehoshaphat, and in his direct employment, that the Levites taught in
Judea and had the book of the law of the Lord with them, and
went about throughout all the cities of Judea and taught the people. And so also Hezekiah, as is said, "spake comfortably to all
the Levites that taught the good knowledge of the Lord." And
so also Nehemiah, who, if not the king, was at least the supreme
magistrate, the representative and depositary of the civil power,
gave the direct sanction of his authority to the Levites, when they
taught the people, and read in the book, in the law of God distinctly, and gave the sense, and caused them to understand the
reading.-All marking, that, in these days, it was held a duty and
a propriety in the rulers of the state, to concern themselves with
the religious knowledge of the people-to provide for which, they
maintained and employed teachers, whose business it was to go
over the land, and to serve and supply every city with instruction
in the law of God-thus fulfilling the object of an ordination, given
by Moses at the outset of the Jewish polity, when he bade " gather
the people together, men and women and children, and the stran



THE LEGAL AND VOLUNTARY PRINCIPLES.         85
ger that is within thy gates, that they may hear, and that they
may learn, and fear the Lord your God, and observe to do all the
words of this law, and that their children which had not known
anything may hear and learn to fear the Lord your God."
But while such was esteemed the befitting duty of Government
in these days, there were other parties who shared the duty and
the obligation along with them. In particular, there seems to
have been felt by all right-minded parents, a peculiar and solemn
responsibility for the religious knowledge of their children. This,
if we may judge from various passages, both in. their books of
history and books of devotion, must have been a great characteristic and national virtue among the children of Israel. We meet
with it so early as in the person of Abraham, the great progenitor
of the Hebrew people, of whom we read this illustrious testimony
from the mouth of God Himself-" For I know him, that he will
command his children and his household after him; and they shall
keep the way of the Lord to do justice and judgment." We read
of it in the covenant, which Joshua made with the people, when
he bade them choose the part they would take-telling them that
"for me and for my house we will serve the Lord;" and the people
with one consent made promise, that this should be the habit and
the observance of all their families. We would even infer it, from
the awful tragedy which befell the house of Eli, in whose signal
punishment for the neglect of family discipline, the people of the
land would behold an impressive manifestation of the divine will,
on the side of the religion of families. But, without resting on
individual examples, we know that the task and the obligation of
parents religiously to educate their children, held a conspicuous
and a foremost place in the code of Jewish morality. The facts
and the doctrines of their religion, were things which they heard
and knew; and therefore, to make use of the language of the
Psalmist, they did "not hide them from their'children, showing to
the generation to come the praises of the Lord, and His strength
and His wonderful works that He hath done. For He established
a testimony in Jacob, and appointed a law in Israel, which He
commanded our fathers that they should make them known to
their children, that the generation to come might know themeven the children which should be born, and should arise and
declare them to their children, that they might set their hope in
God, and not forget the works of God; but keep his commandments."
Here then we have the example of a great duty, and that for
the fulfilment of a great object, even the maintenance and preservation of religion in the land-this duty we say not monopolized
or exclusively engrossed by one party, but shared between two
— It being held, in these Old Testament times, to be the rightful
care of the king upon his throne, to look after and provide what
in him lay for the religion of his subjects; and the no less rightful




86                 CONSISTENCY OF THE
care of the parents of families, to provide what in them lay for
the religion of their children. We are here presented with the
example of two powers or two influences, blended together in
friendly co-operation, for the accomplishment of one and the same
design.  There was no conflict, no contrariety between them.
The one party did not fear to do too much, lest it should be left
to the other party to do too little. Such a jealousy, we believe,
was never once heard of in these days. On the one hand, it
would have been held quite monstrous in the king to say, that the
morality and religion of the young is not my affair, but that of
their own parents; and I will therefore care for none of these
things. And, on the other hand, it would have been held still
more monstrous and unnatural for parents to say, that the education of our children is the duty of our rulers; and we shall take
no part of a burden, which legitimately lies upon them. Such a
contest as this, if it could be imagined, wherein each of the two
parties strives, for its own exoneration, to cast as much of the
weight as possible upon the other, were not the way of bringing
about the result of a well-trained or well-taught boyhood in any
land; but between them, we should behold the melancholy spectacle of a depraved and degenerate society. The utmost effort
and vigilance of both will fall greatly short of perfection; and the
neglect of either were of deadly and withering influence on the
virtue of any commonwealth. With an irreligious population,
even under a religious government, we should have many an exhibition of reckless defiance, both to the divine law and to human
authority-as when good king Hezekiah sent his posts from city
to city, through the country of Ephraim, and Manasseh, even to
Zebulon, to invite the people to return to the Lord from whom
they had revolted, and to keep his passover; and they laughed
them to scorn, and they mocked them. And, on the other hand,
with an irreligious government, though with the benefit at first of
an orderly and religious population, we should witness the rapid
declension and disappearance of all sound principle in the land as
in the days of the idolatrous Ahab, when a hidden and unseen
remnant of true worshippers, was all that continued steadfast with
God among the many thousands of Israel. It is miserable work,
this shifting of the responsibility backward and forward from one
party to another. Both parties in this cause are responsibleparents to do all they can for the right and religious schooling of
their children; and government to provide, in right institutions,
all helps and facilities for the same object. And it is only when
a common spirit actuates them both —when the influence of the
Christian parent in his household, is backed by the paternal influence of a Christian government in the state, that the sacred cause
of good education will prosper in any land: or that, as if by the
circulation of a healthful life's blood from the heart to the extremities of the body politic, a people, now in the rude infancy




LEGAL AND VOLUNTARY PRINCIPLES.          87
both of character and civilization, will be matured into a nation of
well-principled and well-conditioned families.
The records of the children of Israel, tell us what religious
kings did for their people, and religious parents did for their
children; but they tell us nothing of what religious philanthropists
did for the cause of education in their respective neighborhoods.
Confident we are, that if any such sprung up at that period, their
number and their exertions, instead of deadening the zeal of any
right-minded government in the same noble enterprise: would
but stimulate their energies the more, by the ascent of a virtuous
influence from the people to the throne. And, on the other hand,
the munificence of the government would lay no check or discouragement on the liberality of private individuals. It is not
conceivable, that the manifestation of such a spirit in the high
places of the land, would cause that, throughout the community
at large, the love of men for their fellows and acquaintances
around them should therefore wax cold. The effect would be
precisely opposite to this. The patriotism of statesmen, and the
philanthropy of private citizens, would act and react with powerful and most salutary operation on each other. Both would flow
in the same current; and their union is fitted to enrich a land with
those institutes for the promotion of knowledge and virtue, which,
when rightly conducted and rightly patronized, constitute the real
wealth and well-being of a nation.
But though we know little respecting such a union of efforts
and contributions between the prince and the people, during the
subsistence of the Jewish monarchy, to promote schooling for
behoof of the young-we know a great deal, for we read often in
the Bible, of a union between these two parties, to uphold the
services of religion for behoof of the community at large. There
was, in the first instance, a legal provision for the maintenance of
ecclesiastical men, which it would have been not only spoliation
but sacrilege for the state to have invaded. But in the second
instance, this did not supersede the free-will offerings of the pious
and the well-disposed-both for an additional maintenance to the
priest, and more particularly for the erection of ecclesiastical
fabrics. The truth is, that, in the history of the Jews, notwithstanding the more express and explicit sanction of the divine
authority for their Church establishment than for that of any of
the nations in Christendom, yet, so far from the legal support of
religion superseding the voluntary, the voluntary went before the
legal. And accordingly, when they abode in the wilderness, we
find that the costly tabernacle was reared, not by a tax but by a
subscription from the produce, not of a compulsory assessment,
but of spontaneous contributions from the generous and the willinghearted of the children of Israel. And this way of it was distinctly authorized by God himself; for He commanded, not that
the people should give-He did not thus overbear their inclina



88                 CCONSISTENCY OF THE
tions; but He commanded Moses to take of every man that gave
willingly with his heart, and Moses made proclamation, that whosoever was of a willing heart should bring him an offering to the
Lord; and such were the power and productiveness of this method,
that the people, not only brought what was sufficient, but too
much, so that they had to be restrained from bringing any more.
Thus did the voluntary method precede the legal; and even after
this method was established, it did not supersede the voluntary. For
we afterwards find, that, as it was resorted to in the erection of
the tabernacle, so it was resorted to in the erection of the temple
-for the raising of which there was a composition of the legal
and the voluntary. David gave of his treasure, and the people
gave of theirs; and, under the impulse of a common enthusiasm,
all jealousy between these two parties was given to the windsfor we read that the people rejoiced, for that they offered willingly,
because with perfect heart they offered willingly to the Lord; and
David the king also rejoiced with great joy. It is interesting to
remark, how, in these days, instead of an arena of conflict, on
which the two principles of the legal and the voluntary were
placed in hostile array, as if the triumph of the one should lead
to the extermination of the other-both subsisted, nay flourished
contemporaneously, not as warring elements, but in friendly and
most effective coadjutorship; when the free-will offerings of the
people were superadded to the levies of Solomon, and the magnificent temple of Jerusalem was the result of this happy and harmonious combination. Nor does this twofold method of supporting the worship of the Lord, seem to have been lost sight of,
even to the latest ages of the Jewish dispensation-as in the days
of King Joash, when the temple needed repair, he quoted the
example of Moses for a collection; and accordingly a chest
with a hole bored in the middle of it, was made by his orders, and
set out at the gate of the temple; and this authoritative commandment of the king, met with the willing cordiality of his subjects-for we read, that all the princes and all the people rejoiced,
and brought and cast in until they had made an end, and thus
they gathered money in abundance. And in the days of Hezekiah, when there was another revival from idolatry, we are
informed of the people bringing in their tithes, their legally ordained tithes; but, along with these, that they also brought in
their free-will offerings. And in the reign of Josiah, another
bright and sunny period of the Jewish history, we are again told
of a collection at the door of the temple, for the reparation of its
fabric; but over and above this, of money gathered over the
land, by men who went forth in deputations among the people of
Manasseh and Ephraim, and of all the remnant of Israel, and
of all Judah and Benjamin, and returned with their contributions
to Jerusalem. Further onward, at the rebuilding of the temple,
do we meet with the same composition of the legal and the vol



LEGAL AND VOLUNTARY PRINCIPLES.            89
untary; and with this remarkable peculiarity, that a heathen
prince gave his authority to the one, while a believing people
gave out of their abundance to the other —he commanding his
own subjects to help the enterprise, with their silver and their
gold and their goods and their beasts; they coming forth of their
own accord, with their free-will offerings-he ordering a grant
for the edifice, for we expressly read of money being expended
on it "according to the grant which they had of Cyrus king of
Persia;" and agreeably to the terms of the decree, that the expenses be given out of the king's house. Yet this did not supersede the "free-will offering of the people, and of the priests'
offering willingly, for the house of their God which is in Je-usalem"-neither in the days of' Cyrus, nor after him in the days of
Artaxerxes, who decreed, that whatever more should be needful
for the house of God, should be bestowed out of the king's treasure-house, and gave orders to his treasurers accordingly. In these
days there was a perfect coalescence of those two elements, between which now we read of nothing but fiercest controversy.
To the public treasures of the prince, and the legal tithes of the
people, there were added the spontaneous offerings of both; and
even in the days of the New Testament, while there still subsisted
a priesthood, and that legal economy yet unrepealed by which
their maintenance was secured to them-n we can trace nevertheless the hand of private liberality, in furtherance and support of
the same cause; as in the case of the Roman centurion, honored
by the people of Judea among whom he was stationed, as a good
man, because, in the language of their own approving testimony,
he loved their nation and had built them a synagogue.
Even from this brief and rapid induction which we have now
offered, it is impossible not to conclude, that, in the times of the
older dispensation, the public and the private, the legal and the
voluntary, coalesced in the support and service of religion; and
that for the promotion of this glorious object, they worked as it
were into each other's hands. If there was any contest between
them, it was not, at least in the best days of the Jewish commonwealth, it was not which should contribute the least, but which
should contribute the most to the maintenance of the worship of the
God of Israel. In the full tide of a common and a rejoicing sympathy between the king and his people, they provoked each other
to love and to good works; and, whatever rivalry was felt on either
side, it was founded on a noble and generous emulation, that led each
party to render the greatest possible offering to the cause of piety
and the public weal. And if ever there was an approximation to the
joy of heaven upon earth, it was at one of those great convocations,
which took place under the good kings of the children of Israela moral festival, when the whole nation held jubilee; and the
heart of the king upon his throne, beat in unison with the hosannahs of the multitude. The spirit which reigned over such an
12




90                  CONSISTENCY OF THE
assemblage as this, is as unlike as possible, is removed by tne
whole distance of the antipodes, from that spirit, cold and withering and heartless, which animates the paltry economics of the
present day. The king, on the one hand, did not abandon the
support of religion to the voluntary principle, or say that it was
for the people alone to bear the expenses of their own ministrations: Neither did the people leave altogether this highest interest
of themselves and their families to the legal principle; or say
that it was for the state alone, to do all and provide all for the
religion of the land. The two principles moved in harmony
together; and we leave yourselves to judge, whether in their
generous concurrence, or in their fretful and fiery opposition, we
behold the best and happiest state of the commonwealth.
Now all this, instead of being a narrative of useless and exploded antiquarianism, admits of a close and practical application
to the present times; and more especially to the present juncture
in the state and history of our own nation. A lesson might be
read out of it to each of the two parties, whose proceedings we
have just been describing to you-that is, to the Government on
the one hand, and to the people on the other. When the rare opportunity occurs of addressing the first, as, for example, in a public sermon to the two houses of Parliament, a considerable stress,
when advocating a legal provision for the services of religion in
a land, should be laid on the Jewish analogy —for, though not so
absolutely conclusive as if a specific and express precept could
be appealed to, requiring the same aid and countenance from the
civil governor in the economy under which we now live, as was
then rendered under an economy that is dissolved and passed
away-it should ever be recollected, not only, that, having in one
notable instance in past history, even that history of which the
apostle tells us that it has been preserved and transmitted downward for our admonition on whom the latter ends of the world
have come-not only, in that great and memorable instance, have
we the distinct and declared sanction of the divine authority for
the maintenance of the church by the state; and which therefore,
as being in that instance an express appointment of God, can
have nothing in its own nature that is morally or absolutely wrong
-But we should further recollect, that what was thus commanded
to Jewish kings in many passages of the Old Testament, has never
been forbidden to Christian kings in a single passage of the New
Testament; and therefore that there is nothing in Scripture to countervail, but rather everything to confirm that argument, by which
the lawfulness, or rather the positive and bounden duty of every
Government to provide for the religious education of the people,
has, on every principle, as we think, of piety and sound patriotism,
been made the subject of a resistless demonstration. But on this
we expatiate no farther at present, for it is with the other party,
with a certain portion of the people that we are now holding




LEGAL AND VOLUNTARY PRINCIPLES.            91
converse; and the more proper theme therefore of our present
occasion, is the second lesson-the duty which lies, not merely on
rulers, but on private citizens, to provide for the education of the
community both in the things of sacredness and the things of ordinary scholarship.
The first consideration then which we offer is, that, if, even
under the Jewish economy, it was the part and duty of the people to help onward from their own liberality the maintenance of
religion in the land-there lies a still more distinct and palpable obligation on private individuals, under the economy of the present
day. For recollect, there could be no mistake, as there rested no
obscurity, on the duty of kings, or the duty of the Government in
Judea, to provide for the same object-for these, of all others, were
the times of the most palpable and declared connection between
the church and the state, when the support of ecclesiastical institutions and ecclesiastical men, was interwoven with the whole jurisprudence and polity of the Israelitish nation. And yet, even during
the subsistence of that theocracy, when God laid his immediate
command on the rulers of the Hebrews, to look after and provide
for the religion of the people; and not one step of reasoning was
necessary, to make out the connection between this being the duty
of the king and the promulgated will of Him who is the King of
kings-yet, even then, when so express and intelligible an obligation
lay upon the one party, that is on the monarch-this did not exonerate the other party, that is the people, or discharge them from all
part or fellowship in the exercise of the same duty. In that land,
where, of all the countries of the earth, there was the greatest
amount of tithes —there also was there the greatest amount of freewill offerings; and, along with the immense property and firmly
constituted rights of an established priesthood, there flourished at
the same time, in the utmost exuberance and vigor the generosity
of a willing people. The one party did not fear to give largely,
lest the other party should give less. The people did not, on the
maxim that it was the duty of the Government to support religion,
decline, on that account, the farther support and extension of it
themselves. It was at the best and brightest periods in the history of the nation, that both parties gave with the most unsparing
hand; and if ever there was a time when the heart and the
treasure-house of the king were most open to the necessities of
religion-then also was the time when the hearts of the people,
as if touched by responsive sympathy, were most alive to the same
cause; and the fullest and freest contributions were made by the
citizens, for perfecting the services, or repairing the wastes and
the breaches, that had taken place in the worship of the God of
Israel.
We have no doubt of its being the wisdom and the duty of
a Christian, as well as of a Jewish monarch, to furnish all necessary expenses, for the instruction of his people in the knowledge




92                 CONSISTENCY OF THE
of the true religion; and for the maintenance of the true worship of
God in his dominions. But it must at the same time be admitted, that
the obligation of the one is not so pointedly or so unequivocally
told him in the Bible, as the obligation of the other is. A king of
the Jewish nation, could not possibly shut his eyes against the express requisition laid upon him in Scripture, to provide for the services of the sanctuary; or, if this failed, he could not shut his ears
against the rebuke of those living prophets, who were sent from
time to time to denounce the wrath of heaven, against the neglect
and abandonment of heaven's own ordinances. We believe the
obligation of the king in a Christian nation, to be no less real; but
then it is not so palpable. He is more left to find it out by a
train of inference, which, though grounded on the truths and
principles of revelation, often does not tell so powerfully on the
consciences-as when the lesson is visibly given forth, and presented as it were to the intuition of the mind in the immediate
characters and very words of revelation. A king in Christendom
therefore, might more readily escape from the sense and conviction of his duty, than a king in Judea could; and we ask if this
do not lay a greater responsibility on the people of Christendom —
because it may often leave them more to do for the maintenance
of religion in their respective lands, than fell to the share of the
people in Judea. Nothing can be imagined more direct or peremptory, than that voice from the God of heaven, which devolved
on every Jewish king the maintenance of the established religion,
within the limits of his monarchy; and yet the Jewish people did
not, on that account, hold themselves absolved from all participation
in the good work-and so they lent a helping hand, and added their
free-will offerings, both to the legal endowments that had been
fixed at the original institution of their church, and to the grants
that from time to time were issued by royal command from the
public treasury.. Now, if, in these days of perfect certainty about
the duty of their kings, nevertheless the Jewish people over and
above came forward and did so much-in our days of controversy
and denial about the duty of our kings, and when it is contended
by many that the Scripture giveth forth an uncertain or even an
adverse sound upon the matter, are we the Christian people to
stand by and to do nothing? In the Old Testament period, both
parties joined their efforts and their sacrifices; and all proved
little enough for the maintenance of the temple, and synagogues
of the land. If in the New Testament period, the one party, or
the Government, are beginning to sit loose to their duty, or even
threatening to cast it off altogether-whether is that a reason
for us the other party, sitting loose to our duty also, or binding it
all the more firmly on our conscience and observation than heretofore? Should we imitate their example; or were it not all the
more incumbent on us, that we should flee to the rescue of the
church, when hostility lowered upon us from high places, and




LEGAL AND VOLUNTARY PRINCIPLES.             93
rumor was afloat that old friends were forsaking us, and the main
earthly pillar of the edifice was on the eve of giving way? Is
this of all others, we ask, the reason for adding one desertion or
one act of abandonment to another; and what shall we think of
those, who, when asked to do something either for schools or
churches, plead absolved, on the aphorism of which they tell us
in didactic phrase and with the cold metaphysical face of' a jurist
on the question, that it is the part of the Government to do alland, on the pretext of shifting the duty to its proper quarter,
always contrive to shift the burden of it away from themselves.
Be assured that the true principle, is for each party, as they
have opportunity, to do all they can for the glory of God, and the
good of their fellow-men. Though all others should do their part
to the full, there is still a part left for each to do-as when the
kings of Israel did most for the church, still there was ample room
for the children of Israel to manifest their liberality in behalf of
the same cause. And if we live in times when kings and governments are inclined to do little, this just leaves us all the more
room, and lays upon us a greater weight of obligation, to support
and extend as we may the Christianity of the world. And instead of looking only to the principle, let us look also to the effect,
of such a true right and Christian policy on our parts; and we
shall find it far the likeliest and most effectual method of recalling
to their duty, those who for a time may seem to have abandoned
it. In proof of this, we bid you look to the first ages of Christianity, when the kings of the earth were persecutors; and disciples had to fight the battles of the faith, not only unsupported and
alone, but were resisted even to the blood —their goods spoiled,
and their persons given up to martyrdom. Innumerable were
the calls made in these days on the liberality of Christians, for the
erection of churches, for the entertainment of ministers, and fbr
the expense of those missionary journeys by which they leavened
all the cities-though they did not, and indeed could not, not even
after the zeal and enterprise of three centuries, fill up all the
provinces of the Roman empire, with the lessons of the Gospelwhich, in the retirements and fastnesses of the country, still remained, down to the reign of Constantine, in a state of Paganism.
And how were these calls met? Were they resisted by the disciples on the ground that the maintenance of the Gospel, within
the territory of the monarch under whom they lived, formed no
part of their concern? *Were they for shifting off the obligation
from themselves, and laying it upon others? Least of all, were
they for waiting till the eyes of a blind and hostile government
should be opened, and those rulers who now plundered and persecuted the churches should see it their duty to uphold them?
They did not leave undone the work of expounding the duty of
governors. They reasoned, and they remonstrated, and they made
every attempt to enlighten the great potentates of' the earth on




94                   CONSISTENCY OF THE
the merits and claims of the Gospel of Jesus Christ-as may be
seen in the noble apologies which have come down to our times,
addressed by the venerable fathers of the Christian Church to the
emperors of Rome. But they did not stop here; nor were they
satisfied with simply telling the duty of our civil and earthly superiors. That duty, while neglected by others, they took upon
themselves; and out of their own property, as far as it survived
the confiscations that had been made of it by the hand of power,
did they plant churches, and maintain clergymen, and defray the
expenses of a Christian ministration in many thousand places of
the empire. Instead of waiting, which might have been forever,
till all this was done by the Government, they took it up at their
own hands; and this proved the very instrument or process, by
which the eyes of the Government were opened, and their resistance was at length borne down, when, after the commencement
of the fourth century, the lordly autocrat of his vast dominions.
gave in to the energy of the public sentiment; and, whether from
motives of piety and principle or from the motive of policy we
know not, provided an entrance for the teachers of the Gospel to
every little district of the then civilized world*-and so, bringing
the church into contact with the plenteous harvest of a vineyard
heretofore too mighty for its grasp, cleared a way for the message of the Gospel to all the families of all his population.
Now what was the process then should be the process still.
In the first ages of our era, the church had no aid or protection
whatever from the state; and so the whole territory was without
the blessings of any legal provision, till the Christian people so
multiplied both their places of worship and their worshippers,
that the Government at length was carried, and Christianity became the established religion of the empire. But it is possible,
nay it has become the actual condition of things amongst us, that,
from the increase of population, the original establishment of the
country may become so inadequate to the number of our families,
that nearly half the territory may be without the benefits of an
establishment; and, to obtain these benefits, the Christians of the
present day, may have to do for this half of the territory, what
the Christians of the three first centuries had to do for the whole of
theirs. Even, however friendly the Government of a land were
to such an enterprise, it is the whole tenor of my argument, that
this ought not to supersede the exertions and the liberality of private Christians. But should the Government not be friendly to
this extension of the church, then is it still more incumbent-as
incumbent in fact on the faithful disciples of the Saviour now, to
do the same for the waste and unprovided places of the land, as
* Were it necessary for the purposes of our argument, we should rather say that, in
strict historical precision, only a beginning of this work was made by Constantine; and
that it took a lengthened period of time to fill up the present territorial establishment of
Christendom.




LEGAL AND VOLUNTARY PRINCIPLES.            95
of old the disciples did for the vast and unfurnished domain that
lay before them. When Christianity at its outset, went forth on
the then unbroken heathenism of the Roman empire, the voluntary
system was put into operation first; and, when it carried the Government, the legal or endowed system was put into operation afterwards. And when we proceed, not against an entire mass, but
against numerous and scattered portions of heathenism, in the overcrowded towns and parishes of our own land-the voluntary now
may still have to precede the legal, even as it did then. It is
therefore most wretchedly preposterous, when application is made
for the aid of private Christians in this enterprise of additional
churches, in any of them to say, we shall wait to know what the
Government does before we do anything. This is neither fair
to the Government nor to the church, for the Government does
not lead, but follows the march of public sentiment; and grant
that it is reluctant, or not enlightened on the present question, the
efforts and sacrifices of the people all over the land, constitute
the very means by which to enlighten our rulers-the very instrument by which, with moral compulsion, their reluctance is at length
done away. To fetch an example from our very doors. It is by
the generosity of private Christians, or on the strength of their
voluntary subscriptions alone, that, within these few years, one
hundred and eighty additional churches have been built or are in
process of erection in various places of Scotland. Thus much
for the contributions of the one party; but, so far are they from
superseding or being exclusive of the other party, they, in effect,
form one hundred and eighty arguments for that aid which we
seek from the Government, and by which alone these places of
worship can be made fully available for the families of the laboring classes in their respective neighborhoods. In a little time,
there will be the voice of one hundred and eighty congregations,
the testimony and influence of one hundred and eighty neighborhoods all bent on such a provision firom the state, as might enable
us, not to sell the Gospel as now for those golden seat-rents which
are so shamefully extorted, and can only be paid by the higher
and middling classes-but, if possible, to preach the Gospel to our
workmen, our artificers, to one and all of our toil-worn population,
without money and without price. The case is becoming more
palpable and stronger every day, and must at length prove irresistible. We have only to multiply these erections; and every
new fabric will be a new stepping-stone, which shall bring us so
much nearer to the wished-for consummation.  Instead of you
waiting for the Government, why it is all the other way-the Government are waiting for you. It is clear that if both.parties wait,
nothing will be done. And therefore it is, we call on you the one
party to do your part; and this is the high way to insure the
other party doing theirs. The united efforts of private Christians
for this best and highest interest of the people, will at length




96                  CONSISTENCY OF THE
gather into a moral force which can be withstood no longerwhen, not without.your contributions on the oft-repeated maxim
that Government should do all; but by your contributions, or on
your doing something, it is that Government will do the rest: Or,
in other words, it is through the medium of the country that the
Government will be carried.
We should not have detained you so long with this argument,
had it not admitted of the strictest application to the object of our
meeting this day. There could not be a wiser or more patriotic
act in any Government, than to institute a system of schooling,
that should provide a sound and good and cheap education for all
the families of the land. But great bodies move slowly; and
though the glaring deficiency of schools, more especially in towns,
has been expatiated on for upwards of a quarter of a centurywe know not, if, even yet, any desirable approximation has been
made towards the remedying of so great an evil. We have done
nothing by our reasonings; but we shall have done a great deal,
once that you and others are so far prevailed upon, that you shall
begin to act. Let but a process of school extension be entered on,
and I think it would start with even a fairer prospect of ultimate
success, than did the process of Church Extension at the firsthowever much our prospects have brightened of late, by the general and enthusiastic support which our scheme has met with in
every quarter of the kingdom. Now in several places. a beginning
of this sort has been actually made; nor do I know if a better
parish could have been selected, for typifying or holding forth a
good miniature exhibition of the whole argument, than that one
for the educational interest of whose young I now stand before
you. The College parish contains a population of upwards of
four thousand, the immense majority of whom, indeed we may
almost say all, are of the common people-or of that class in society, whom to enlighten and to elevate and every way to better
both in character and comfort, and more especially by the lessons
of the Gospel, were the very highest achievement which philanthropy can overtake, and the noblest boast of philanthropy did
she succeed in the undertaking. Now a most natural question is,
how much would be necessary fully to provide for the schooling
of such a population. It is greatly beneath the common estimate
on this subject, when we say that at least five hundred, out of four
thousand, should be at all times under the process of their elementary education; and that at least four schools would be required
for conducting this education, in a complete and effective manner.
Were we living in the days of John Knox, we should certainly
have contended for four schools. But living as we do in an age
when private luxury is carried to an unexampled height, while the
most wretched parsimony in public objects, and more especially
in providing for those national institutes which might best subserve the intelligence and virtue of the people, is the order of the




LEGAL AND VOLUNTARY PRINCIPLES.            97
day-we will not venture to specify more than three schools, with
the respective school-houses and district teachers, as the proper
complement for such a parish. Well then, as there has been yet
no legal provision for this necessity, the voluntary principle has
put forth an effort and done something for the cause. And, when
compared with what is doing in other places and other parishes,
it has, in this parish, considering the almost unexcepted poverty
of the great mass of its inhabitants, done nobly and well. But it
is truly instructive to remark, that, though the exertion made here
greatly outruns the average of private and philanthropic exertion
all over Scotland, still it is greatly, very greatly beneath the exigencies of the parish.  With a severe struggle, and in which it
has been found impossible altogether to escape the burden of an
oppressive arrear, they have managed to keep agoing one school,
and to furnish an almost gratuitous education to about a hundred
scholars —or, in other words, as regards the number of schools,
they have not accomplished one third; and, as regards the number of scholars, not one fifth of what would be required to support
an adequate system of instruction for the boyhood of this parish.
Even for but one school, the allowance is both a penurious and a
precarious one; and while there is a general conviction among
those who have engaged in this enterprise of benevolence, that
they will not be able with all their efforts to do more-there is
even a well-founded doubt, whether they will succeed in keeping
the ground which they have gotten, or continue year after year
to do as much. There cannot be a more vivid illustration of the
inadequacy of private means, and of the indispensable necessity
for a public and legal provision-ere a right economy for education in a parish, and still more for education over a whole country
or congeries of many hundreds of parishes, can possibly be perfected.
But though the voluntary principle falls so immeasurably short
of the completion of a right educational economy, it does admiraoly for the commencement of it. Though carried to its utmost
extent, the voluntary system will never overtake what the endowed
system alone is equal for; but let it be carried to this extent, and,
as forming the most effectual of all harbingers, it will be sure to
usher in the endowed system at the last. The philanthropy of
the citizens, is the most effectual instrument for awakening the
patriotism of the government; and could we only see as much
done by every congregation in our large towns for its corresponding parish, it would compose such a weight and body of influence
in behalf of this cause, as would ultimately be felt in high places;
and it should not be long, ere we witnessed the espousal of it by
our rulers, who at last would bring the means and the resources
of the State to bear upon it. It is well that the voluntary principle
should begin the cause; but it will not end the cause. It may
start under the auspices of the voluntary system; but it will issue
13




98                  CONSISTENCY OF THE
in the establishment of the endowed system. And we care not
from what quarter the endowment comes. We rejoice to understand that the managers of one of the great public charities in this
city, have resolved to apply a large portion of their funds to the
planting of schools in various districts within the royalty; and it
is our respectful but earnest suggestion, that in no section of the
territory, will they meet with a field of greater promise, and at
the same time of greater necessity, than in the parish attached to
this church-or a fitter scene on which to prove the wisdom, as
well as benevolence, of the application which they so rightly propose to make, of the wealth that has been intrusted to their charge.
We have one observation more to make on this subject, and we
deem it an important one. The school for which I am pleading
is a scriptural school, in the character and system of the good
olden time-where the Bible and the Catechism are taught; and
the minds of the children are brought into contact with those
holy principles and truths, by which alone they can be made
wise unto salvation.  We trust you perceive a momentous interest involved in the support and multiplication, not merely of
schools, but of such schools. If there be any soundness in our
argument, it is the voluntary system which germinates the endowment; and they are the schools which the one originates, if only
raised in sufficient number and with a sufficient force of public
opinion, that the other will perpetuate and extend. Let these
voluntary schools then be but carried far enough; and they will
not only give birth at the last to a far greater progeny of endowed
schools, but, what is of capital importance, of schools in their own
likeness: And upon your support therefore of such schools as
are taught scripturally and soundly, it depends, whether in the
days of your posterity, the land in which we live is to be blessed
with a right and a religious, in one word, a good healthful Protestant system of national education. To revert once more to our
analogous example, we have raised, or are in the act of raising, a
hundred and eighty new churches, and are making it at the same
time our strenuous endeavor that we shall obtain an endowment
for them; and not this only, but an endowment for as many
more as might supply the whole ecclesiastical destitution of the
land. Now were these Catholic or Unitarian churches, such a
measure might have operated with a deadly blight on the spirit
and principle of future generations; and it serves to demonstrate
the prodigious importance of an extended voluntary support, not
for churches generally, but for the right kind of churches-that
on this the alternative hinges, whether a pure or a vicious and
corrupt theology, shall emanate from the great mass and majority
of the pulpits in our land. Now what is true of the kind of
churches, is as true of the kind of schools. If it be important to
anticipate the Government with a right kind of churches, it is
also important to anticipate them with a right kind of schools.




LEGAL AND VOLUNTARY PRINCIPLES.            99
Let there be a sufficient rallying around these two great objects,
of all the leal-hearted and well-principled in our land; and we
shall make sure both of a sound Protestant theology in our pulpits, and of a sound and entire Bible education in all our parishes.
The national system, hereafter, will take on the form and the
character which individuals now may choose to impress on it. I
stand before you in behalf of one such school, having this guarantee both for its being well constituted and well administeredthat it is conducted under the immediate eye, the governance
and guardianship of one of the most zealous friends to the prosperity, and ablest champions for the purity of the Church of Scotland. Let but this school, and a sufficient number around it in its
own likeness, be upholden for a few years amid the difficulties
which now encompass them; and we have every reason to anticipate, that, with the blessing of heaven, the whole will expand
into a general and well-organized system, for transmitting the
knowledge of the pure word of God throughout the families of our
people, from generation to generation.




CONSIDERATIONS
ON THE
SYSTEM OF PAROCHIAL SCHOOLS IN SCOTLAND,
AND ON THE
ADVANTAGE OF ESTABLISHING THEM
IN LARGE TOWNS.
THERE are three school systems for the education of a country,
each of which is fitted to have its own peculiar influence on the
general habit and improvement of the people among whom it
operates.
There is first the wholly unendowed system. Education, in,
stead of being in any shape patronized or instituted, may be left
merely as an article of native and spontaneous demand, among
the people of a country. Each who has a desire for it, might, in
this case, purchase it, just as he would do any other object of desire.
He would, of course, have to pay the full and natural price for the
article: or, in other words, the fees of education must, under
such a system, be adequate to the entire maintenance of the
teachers.
This way of it has never been found effectual to the object of
originating, in any country, a habit of general education. It does
not call out the people. It in fact abandons them to the chance
of their making a proper and original motion of their own, and this
motion is never generally made. And, had we time for looking
so far back as to first causes, the reason of this might be rendered
abundantly obvious. The truth is, that there is a very wide distinction between the moral or intellectual wants of our nature, on
the one hand, and the merely physical wants of our nature on the
other. In the latter case. the want is always accompanied with a
strong and urgent desire for relief; and, just in proportion to the
greatness of the want, is the intensity of the desire. The want of
food is accompanied with hunger, and the want of liquids with
thirst, and the want of raiment with cold; and these form so many




PAROCHIAL SCHOOLS IN SCOTLAND.             101
powerful appetites of demand, which, among a people, though left
to themselves, will be fully commensurate to the whole extent of
their physical necessities. And hence it is, that whatever call may
exist for a national establishment of teachers, a national establishment of bakers, or butchers, or tailors, or shoemakers, is altogether
superfluous.
But the reverse of all this holds true, of the moral or intellectual
wants of our nature. The want of virtue, so far from sharpening,
has the effect of extinguishing the desire for virtue. The same is
true of the want of knowledge. The more destitute we are of
these articles, the more dead we are as to any inclination for them.
Under the mere operation of demand and supply, there are sufficient guarantees in the constitution of nature, that the people will
themselves make a primary movement after food. But there is
no such guarantee for their ever making a primary movement
after instruction. It is not from the quarter of ignorance, that we
can at all look for the first advance towards knowledge; nor can
we ever expect, that, for this object, a people as yet untaught, will
surrender, either for their own behalf, or that of their children,
any sensible proportion of that money, which went to the purchase
of their physical gratifications.
The night of ignorance is sure to be perpetuated in every land,
where no extraneous attempts are made, on the part of the wealthy
and enlightened, for the object of its dissipation. And if the wholly
unendowed system be incompetent to the effect of planting a habit
of education among a people, in the first instance, it cannot be the
best system for upholding that habit, where it is already established; and far less can it be the best for arresting the declension
of this habit in a country, where, if education be upon the decline,
the desire for education will be sure to decline along with it.
The next system of education, is that of free schools. It is in
every point diametrically the reverse of the former, and may therefore at first view be regarded as the best for shunning all the evils,
and all the inefficiency of the former. It is a wholly endowed,
instead of a wholly unendowed system. It both spares the population the necessity of making the first movement after scholarship
for their children, and it spares them the necessity of surrendering
for this object any portion of their subsistence. For the completion of such a system, it were enough that schools and schoolhouses should be built in every little district of the land, and such
a salary provided for the teachers, as, without the exaction of any
fee, would enable them to render a full supply of scholarship to
the families, at the public expense. In this way, the people would
be fully met with an apparatus, broadly and visibly obtruded upon
their notice; and yet we are far from thinking, that it would either
create a native and universal habit of education in a country,-or
arrest the process of its degradation in learning, —or sustain the
practice of parents sending their children to school, and so stimu



102                  ON THE SYSTEM OF
lating and watching over the progress of their scholarship, as would
lead to the formation of a well-taught and a well-informed peasantry.
What is gotten for no value, is rated at no value. What may
be obtained without cost in money, is often counted unworthy of
any cost in pains. What parents do not pay for the acquirement
of, children will not be so urged to toil for the acquirement of. To
be away from school, or to be idle at school, when not a matter
of pecuniary loss, will far more readily be a matter of connivance.
There is no doubt a loss of other advantages; but these, under a
loose and gratuitous system of education, will be but held in capricious demand, and in slender estimation. The only way of
thoroughly incorporating the education of the young, with the
habit of families, is to make it form part of the family expenditure, and thus to make the interest, and the watchfulness, and
the jealousy of parents, so many guarantees for the diligence of
their children. And, for these reasons, do we hold the establishment of free schools in a country, to be a frail and impolitic expedient, for the object of either upholding a high tone of scholarship among our laboring classes, or of rendering the habit at all
general, or of perpetuating that habit from generation to generation.
And such a system has not a more adverse influence on the
scholars, than it has upon the teachers. Let a man deal in any
article whatever, and there is not a more effective security for the
good quality of what he deals in, than the control and the guardianship of his own customers. The teacher of a free school is
under no such dependence. It is true, that he may be paid according to the proficiency of the learners; but the parent who can
instantly withdraw his children, is a far more jealous inquisitor
into this matter, than the official examinator, on whose personal
interest at least there is no such powerful or effectual a hold.
And we repeat it, therefore, that carelessness on the part of the
teacher, as well as a remiss and partial attendance on the part of
the taught, is the likely fruit of that gratuitious system of education, the aspect and the tendency of which we are now employed
in contemplating.
It reflects infinite credit on the founders of our Scottish reformation, that, by the tact of'a wise and well-discerning skilfulness, they have devised a system, which dexterously shuns and
puts at an equal distance from our peasantry, the evils and inconveniences of the two former. It may, for the sake of distinction,
be called the medium system of education. It is about two centuries and a half ago since it had its origin in Scotland. The first
advance was made, not by the people at large, but by the founders of this system; and in this way, they escaped the inefficiency
of what may be called the unendowed method of education. They
built schools and school-houses, and held them conspicuously forth




PAROCHIAL SCHOOLS IN SCOTLAND.            103
to the view of the population, and they furnished such a salary to
the teacher, as enabled him, not to deal out a free education among
the surrounding families, but to deal it out to them upon certain
regular and moderate allowances. In this way, they escaped the
evils which we have just now ascribed to the gratuitous system
of education. The people were not fully met. But they were
met half-way. It was not a movement of demand upon their side,
in the first instance, which it had been vain to look for. Neither
was it a full and altogether gratuitous invitation on the other side.
But it was the movement of a proposal from the latter, upon certain terms; and this was at length followed up, on the side of the
people, by the movement of a wide, and general, and almost unexcepted compliance.
This result has nobly accredited the wisdom of our parochial
institutions. The common people of England and Ireland, left to
demand education for themselves, never demanded it; nor would
they, if left to the impulse of their own desire, ever have emerged
from the deep, and stationary, and unalleviated ignorance of the
middle ages. A great, and, in part, a successful effort, is making
now, in behalf of both these countries, by a set of active philanthropic societies. By the stir and the strenuousness of these institutions, the people have certainly, in some measure, awakened
from the stillness of their unlettered repose; and many young have
been called out to scholarship, who else would have persisted in
the dormancy of their forefathers. Still we hold, that there is no
security for a system, either of universal or perpetual operation,
until it shall cease to be entirely gratuitous-until the people
themselves be associated in the support of it by their own payments-until they are led to look on scholarship as worthy of its
price, and that price is actually rendered-until learning be so
prized by them as to be purchased by them-and this bond be
established for its regular prosecution among all their families, that
its cost is estimated among the regular outgoings of a family.
This is the way in the country parishes of Scotland. The surrender which they have to make for the education of their young,
is much smaller than it would have been, had there been no school,
or school-house, or salary, provided by the legislature. Still, however, it is well that they have to make some surrender. It is well
that the care of parents over the progress of their children's education, should be stimulated by the price which they have to render for it. It is well, that by their inspection being thus sharpened. there should be a far closer and more effective security for
the diligence of the young, than ever could obtain, were the education of the country turned into one great and universal charity.
We read much of the abuses of chartered and endowed schools
for the poor; and it is well that while our schools are so far endowed as to reduce the country price of learning to at least onehalf of what it would be, under a totally unprovided system; it is




104                  ON THE SYSTEM OF
still well, that a fraction should be left to be paid by the parents,
and that the teacher should be thus far responsible to them, for
the performance of his duty and the faithfulness of his public
services.
The universality of the habit of education in our Lowland parishes, is certainly a very striking fact; nor do we think that the
mere lowness of the price forms the whole explanation of it.
There is more than may appear at first sight, in the very circumstance of a marked and separate edifice, standing visibly out to
the eye of the people, with its familiar and oft-repeated designation. There is also much in the constant residence of a teacher,
moving through the people of his locality, and of recognized office,
and distinction amongst them. And perhaps there is most of all
in the tie which binds the locality itself to the parochial seminary,
that has long stood as the place of repair, for the successive young
belonging to the parish; for it is thus that one family borrows its
practice from another-and the example spreads from house to
house, till it embrace the whole of the assigned neighborhoodand the act of sending their children to the school, passes at length
into one of the tacit, but well understood proprieties of the vicinage-and new families just fall, as if by infection, into the habit
of the old ones-so as, in fact, to give a kind of firm, mechanical
certainty to the operation of a habit, from which it were violence
and singularity to depart-and in virtue of which, education has
acquired a universality in Scotland, which is unknown in the other
countries of the world.
There has many a distinct attempt been made to supplement
the defective education of our cities. But if it have either been
in the way of gratuitous education, or in the way of a vast Lancasterian establishment, for the general behoof of a wide and
scattered community, or in any way which did not bind, by the
tie of a local relationship, the close and contiguous families of a
given district, to a seminary raised within its limits, and to a fixed
and stationary teacher at the head of that seminary-then let it
be remembered, that some of the most essential elements of success have been wanting to the operation. Nor let us be discouraged by the failure of former expedients, which are not at all
analogous to the one that we shall venture to recommend, and by
which it is proposed to circulate throughout the mass of a crowded
population, as powerful and pervading an influence, in behalf of
scholarship, as that which has been diffused over the face of our
Lowland provinces, and diffused so thoroughly, as scarcely to leave
in our country parishes, the exception of a single individual, or a
single family behind it.
But there is still another school system which falls to be considered-not a medium, but what may rather be called a compound system-because made up of the unendowed and the free
systems together, though not put together into the constitution of




PAROCHIAL SCHOOLS IN SCOTLAND.            105
any one single seminary. This compound system is realized in
all those places where so many of the schools are wholly free, and
all the rest of them are wholly unendowed. We have already
stated our objections against such an establishment of free schools
as would meet the whole population. It is a different arrangement from this, where there is such an establishment of free
schools as might provide part of the population with gratuitous
learning, and where the remaining part have to pay that full
price which obtains in schools that are totally unendowed. This
amounts nearly to the actual system which obtains in Glasgow.
Our objections to this way of ordering the matter, are, that as
far as free education prevails, a careless estimate of its value, and
a loose and negligent attendance, are apt to prevail along with it;
and that many parents, who, under the medium system, could
have upheld the habit of purchasing the scholarship of their chiidren, are thereby degraded into an inferior habit; and that there
is not a more public way of exposing our people as the subjects of
charity, than by drawing out their families to a charity school; and
that the difference to the comfort of a family is so great, between
having to pay the full price which an unendowed teacher must
exact, and having to pay no price at all, as to make a place in one
of the charity schools an object to men, who else would be greatly
above cherishing any expectation of charity, or preferring any
demand for it; and that, as the result of all this, the competition
for places is so great, as often to elbow out those neediest and
most destitute, for whom the institution was originally fiamedbesides the incalculable mischief of bringing down men, who, but
for this temptation, would have stood erect and independent, to
the attitude of petitioners; or, in other words, the mischief of
carrying the spirit and the desires of pauperism upward, by several steps, along the scale of society.
We affirm one consequence of charity schools with us, to have
been a diminution in the quantity of education. It is familiar
to us all, that the applications for admittance are greatly more
numerous than the vacancies. In this way there are many parents
who are constantly standing out in the capacity of expectants,
and who, under the operation of a hope which turns out to be
delusive, are keeping off their children from other schools. Their
children are thus suffered to outgrow their opportunities; and
many are the instances in which they have stood for years at that
gate to which they have been allured by false or mistaken signals
of invitation, till the urgent concerns of their trade or their profession at length hurried them away-and that too, to a condition
of life, where it was as impossible for them to retrieve any portion
of their time for the purposes of education, as it was to recall
those years which they had so idly spent in ill-directed endeavors
to obtain it.
In all these circumstances, we hold the medium system, which
14




106                 ON THE SYSTEM OF
obtains in the country parishes of Scotland, to be also, in every
way, the best for its city parishes. Not leaving education without any endowment, to the random operation of demand and supply-not so endowing it, as to hold out a gratuitous education to
all who should require it-not even endowing a restricted number
of schools to this extent, and leaving the rest to the necessity of
exacting an unendowed price from the scholars who repair to them
-but endowing schools so far as will enable the teachers to furnish education to our town families upon country prices-erecting
the schools and the school-houses-and multiplying these erections
till they met the demand, and were thoroughly familiarized to the
habit of our whole population.
It is little known amongst us, how much the people of our city
parishes have fallen behind the full influence and benefit of such
a system. With the exception of schools for Latin, there are almost no vestiges of any such endowment. Instead of any public
and parochial edifice for scholarship, held forth to the view of the
people, and constantly reminding them, as it were, of their duty,
through the avenue of the senses, —the only education for their
children, which is accessible to them, is dealt out from the privacy
of obscure garrets, or at most from the single hired apartment of
a house, in no way signalized by its official destination, and deeply
retired from observation amid the closeness and frequency of the
poorest dwelling-places.  These stations, too, whither children
repair for their education, are constantly shifting; and the teachers, being often unconnected by any ties of residence or local
vicinity with the parents, there is positively, in spite of the sacredness of their mutual trust, as little of the feeling of any moral
relationship between them, as there is between an ordinary shopkeeper and his customers. The very circumstance, too, of drawing his scholars from the widely scattered families of a town, instead of drawing them from the contiguous families of one of its
parishes, slackens, among these parishes, the operation of that
principle, which operates so powerfully among the immediate
neighbors of a small country village; and where, in virtue of each
doing as he sees others do, we behold so sure and so unfailing a
currency towards the established schoolmaster, on the part of all
the population. It forms a mighty addition to all these obstacles,
in the way of education, when such a price must be paid for it,
as might enable the teacher to live on his fees alone. And thus
it is, that the demand for schooling, which is kept up without
abatement in our country parishes, has been most wofully
abridged amongst the laboring classes in our towns. Not a few
feel tempted, by the greatness of its expense, to evade the schooling of their families altogether, insomuch, that with them the
cause of education is altogether extinct; and very many are the
parents who feel tempted to reduce the quantity of schooling, in



PAROCHIAL SCHOOLS IN SCOTLAND.           107
somuch, that with them the cause of education is rapidly and
alarmingly on the decline.
It is a very low estimate of the average expense of good education for reading, alone, to state it at five shillings a quarter, or
twenty shillings a year. This expense is, in many instances,
shunned altogether: and there are hundreds of adults who are
utterly incapable of reading; and the number of these is increasing rapidly. The expense is, in many more instances, not shunned: but the period of it is lamentably shortened, so as fully to
account for the slovenly and imperfect reading of so many of our
artizans, and laborers, and household servants. The case of these
last is, that of ignorance under the disguise of education. Theirs
is a mere semblance or apology for learning. The individual
who, in reading to another, stops, and spells, and blunders at
every short interval, can never read a passage to himself, so as
readily to understand the subject. To read intelligently, he must
read fluently. And, therefore it is, that there may be a partial
scholarship, which, for every purpose of moral or literary improvement, is just as worthless as no scholarship at all. The
shadow of the good old Scottish habit may be still perpetuated
amongst us for one or two generations; and, perhaps, may be
preserved, by the annual importations of this habit from the country, from ever passing into utter dissipation. But, though the
shadow of it should remain, the substance of it will soon be dissipated. Insomuch, that, if vice and ignorance stand together in
nearly perpetual association-if an uneducated people be more
formidable in their discontent, and more loathsome in their profligacy, and more improvident in their economical habits, and more
hardened in all the ways of wickedness and impious profanation,
than a people possessed of the Bible, and capable of using itthen, we cannot look on the progress of that undoubted decay in
scholarship, which is every day becoming more conspicuous in
our towns, without inferring a commensurate progress in those
various elements of mischief, which go to feed and to augment all
our moral and all our political disorders.
To extend a right system of parochial education over the
whole city, is an enterprise greatly too gigantic for any one body
of management. The truth is, that, did we compute the expense
of its full accomplishment, the magnitude of the sum would paralyze any number of philanthropists who could willingly and readily
act together, for the purpose of bringing round such a consummation.  From the vastness of the necessary resources on the
one hand, and the unwieldiness which ever attaches to the movements of any very extended society, on the other, we are quite
sure that nothing very effectual could be done under a combined
plan of operations, and that the agents of such an undertaking,
would either give it up in despair, or retire from it, satisfied that
they had done much, when they had scarcely done anything-..




108                 ON THE SYSTEM OF
pointing, it may be, to some showy. but superficial achievement,
as the trophy of their success,-to the establishment, it is likely,
of one school in each parish, which would only suffice for a very
small fraction of the whole, and leave untouched and unprovided
by any salutary influence whatever, the great mass of the community.
But what one body of management cannot do in the gross,
several distinct and independent bodies of management might be
able to do in the detail. One thing is certain, that any such
smaller body will act with an impetus and a vigor, of which a
vast general society is utterly incapable. This would be the first
effect of a subdivision in the field of agency. Let it only be
broken down into manageable sections, and the influence will be
the same with that which comes upon a man's whole energy and
spirit, when any concern with which he is associated, is so reduced, from the hopelessly and impracticably vast, as to be
brought within the compass of his probable attainment; and when
the limit of his enterprise, instead of lying at a distance from him,
in the remote and fathomless unknown, is brought so near, as to
be distinctly visible, and likely to be overtaken; and when, by
every step in his progress, he feels himself to be approximating to
a given termination. In such a state of things, he is cheered and
stimulated onwards by every new accession to his means, and
every new movement in the execution of his measures; and just
because the conclusion of the whole does not stand at an obscure
and indefinite interval away from him. And such would be the
difference, in point both of present alacrity and ultimate success,
between the operations of one Society for parochial schools, to the
whole of Glasgow, and of distinct Societies for the same object, in
each of the parishes of Glasgow.  Each would have its own
manageable task; and each would be freed from the distractions
of too manifold and cumbersome an operation; and each would
not only have less to do, but have more in proportion to do with:
for, it is of importance to remark, that, by thus dividing the
mighty field, and assigning its own separate locality to each separate agency, the interest is greatly heightened, and the activity is
greatly promoted; and even the feeling of rivalship gives a laudable impulse to each of the distinct undertakings; and the solicitations for aid are carried through each parish and congregation,
far more closely and productively, when the attention and desire
are thus devoted to one small portion of the territory, instead of
being weakened by dispersion over the face of the extended
whole.
It is on these grounds, that the Committee of Education for the
parish of St. John, have conceived the hope, that, by intent perseverance, and the use of all those legitimate means which are
within their reach, they may at length succeed in the establishment of a right parochial apparatus; or, in other words, may




PAROCHiIAL SCHOOLS IN' SCOTLAND.           109
arrive at the result of as many schools and school-houses, with
permanent salaries to each of the teachers, as shall be commensurate to the object of a good elementary education, at reduced
prices, to all the families in the parish.
This will be gradually arrived at, by the erection of successive
fabrics, and the accumulation of as much capital, as shall afford,
by its interest, the salaries of the different teachers.
Each fabric, it is conceived, may have two school-rooms in its
lower story, and, in its upper stories, the two school-houses.
When the schools cease to be filled to an overflow, this will serve
as an indication that the parochial equipment for schooling is
completed.
We should feel it a public injustice to monopolize for our parish,
more in the way of aid' than legitimately belongs to it; and we
hold it necessary, on this account, to explain, how far we mean to
extend our solicitations, and what are the resources which we
leave untouched for other parishes.
All who are connected with the parish, either by residence or
by property, we count ourselves free to apply to, for such contributions as they may be prevailed upon to render, in behalf of
this strictly parochial object; nor do we deem this in any way
capable of being construed into an interference with the claims
and the fair expectations of other parishes.
But, further, it must be evident, that did each parish of Glasgow
confine its attempts to obtain money, within the limits which we
have just now assigned, the most needful of these parishes would
also be the most restricted in their means of raising a right parochial system.  And, on the other hand, the great majority of our
wealthiest individuals, residing either in the best provided districts
of the town, or without the limits of the royalty altogether, would
escape the pressure, or rather what most of them would hold to
be the privilege, of sharing in this dispensation of liberality. There
are many such, whom the poorer of our parishes may look up to,
as a kind of common patrons, and whose wealth may be regarded
as a common fund, out of which it is fair to draw, in the way of
candid statement, and respectful entreaty, as much as can be
gained from their good-will, for this best of objects. And while
we abstain from encroaching, by more than our fair share, upon
this wide and flourishing domain of our community, do we leave
it to other parishes to enter upon it as they please, and to cultivate it in any way they will, and to call forth its produce and its
capabilities to the uttermost.
What we fear not to announce as our equitable share of this
fund, is just as much as we can possibly raise, by means of a congregational subscription, as additional to, and distinct from, our
parochial ones; or, in other words, it is our intention to solicit aid
from those who, without residence or property in the parish. have
nevertheless seats in the church of St. John.




110                   U- THE S'YSTErI OF
Our firm and confident answer to every charge of unfair usurpation, on the means of general Glasgow, for the furtherance of an
object connected with the peculiar good of only one of its parishes,
is, that ours is among the poorest of the city parishes, and ours is
not the wealthiest of the city congregations.
Should there be another parish poorer than ours, and with a
congregation not so wealthy, we do not ask it to restrict its operations for aid, within the limits which we have prescribed for ourselves. After it has made the most of its parish and congregation,
it will have a still untrodden field, among those most affluent of
our citizens, who have no peculiar connection with either, but
who, in extending their patronage to the schooling of an unprovided district of the town, will find an ample scope for one of the
most promising and productive of all charities.
On this field, the Committee for Education in the parish of St.
John, do not propose to enter. Insomuch, that if a wealthy individual, not a parishoner, not a proprietor, and not a sitter in the
church of St. John, should offer ten guineas for the furtherance
of our undertaking, we honestly affirm, that it were in far more
delightful harmony with all our wishes, did he reserve his money,
and augment it to the gift of a hundred guineas, in behalf of another district, still more needy and unprovided than our own.
Nor would we feel such interest and alacrity in this our parochial
undertaking, did we not believe, that the plan was equally competent, and equally effective, for all the other parishes of Glasgow;
and that it thus admitted of being so multiplied and transferred to
the other districts both of our city and suburb population, as to
offer by far the likeliest method of rearing a permanent security
for the good and Christian education of all our families.
It is in the power of any munificent individual to bring this
matter to the test, so as to ascertain, in a few months, whether the
charm which we have ascribed to locality, be of an ideal, or of a
soundly experimental character. We do not suppose him to be
either a sitter in the church of St. John, or at all connected, either
by residence or property, with the parish. Let him dwell without the limits of the royalty, and have no congregational bond of
alliance with any part of the city, excepting, perhaps the very
wealthiest of its districts. Should he, in these circumstances, select the most destitute of its parishes, as his own chosen field, on
which he might lavish all his influence, and all his liberalityshould he, for this purpose, head an enterprise for schools, by his
own princely donation; and interest his personal friends; and
encourage by his example and exertions, any parochial committee
that may be formed; and spirit on the undertaking to the erection
of one fabric, and to a fresh exertion for another, and to the anticipation for a third, he will soon feel, how much more effective
a hold of him, such a plan of operations for ten thousand people
has, than a similar plan for one hundred thousand. He will thus




PAROCHIAL SCHOOLS IN SCOTLAND.             111
try the comparison of strength, between a local and a universal
interest, and find how greatly the former, by the constitution of
our nature, predominates; and how, by concentrating his attentions upon one district, his whole heart and endeavor are far more
rivited to the cause of its moral cultivation, than if he had merged
himself among the generalities of a wider, but more hopeless undertaking. He will, after having planted the cause in this his
adopted, and, on that very account, his favorite and beloved vineyard, continue to water it, just because he had planted it; nor will he
feel it possible to cease from fostering his own parochial establishment, till he had brought it on to its full-grown maturity. All
the members of that body of subscription with which he is associated, will just feel as he does; and the very same local interest,
which does so much to stimulate the activity of the doer, will also
stimulate, beyond all calculation, the liberality of the giver. The
cause will be nobly seconded in the parish itself, which is the field
of this operation; and its contribution for its own schools, will exceed, by many times, any contribution to which it could possibly
be called out, for the more extended, but, to it, greatly less exciting cause of schools in Glasgow. This is not philanthropy
bounding herself round with narrow and unsocial limitations. It
is philanthropy devising the way in which the greatest amount of
good may be rendered to our species; and, for this purpose, availing herself of a principle, which, however neglected and lying in
unobserved concealment heretofore, will, we trust, be mightily
instrumental in calling forth a great resurrection of all that is wise,
and moral, and salutary in our land. Let one set of men foster
the attentions and reiterate the labors of benevolence upon one
assigned and overtakeable district. Let our great towns be localized into separate portions, and men be called out, for thoroughly
pervading each of them, and laboriously doing in detail, what has
long been so vainly and ambitiously attempted en masse. Let
each separate agency link itself with a subject, that there is some
hope of completely finishing, and thus suit the dimensions of the
enterprise to the real mediocrity of human power; then, in this
humbler, but sounder way of it, a universal result will be far more
surely and speedily obtained, than it ever can be by the airy, unproductive magnificence, as impotent as it is imposing, of widely
comprehending plans, and great national undertakings.
We have one remark to offer, for the purpose of acquitting ourselves in full of the imputation of monopoly. There are many
sitters in the church of St. John's, who have also seats elsewhere.
We shall apply to them for aid in our parochial undertaking. But
we beg to assure them, that, instead of their entire offering to the
cause, it would be far more consonant both to our views of justice, and to our desire of extending this benefit beyond the limit
of our own parish, if we were only admitted to a proportional
share of their liberality.




112                   ON THE SYSTEM OF
The extra-parochial sitters in the church of St. John's will forgive the following observation. They are not parishioners; but
they occupy the place of parishioners. They get the Sabbath accommodation, which, but for there, parishioners would have gotter; and we assure them, that, by helping on the cause of weekday instruction in the parish, they will make the kindest and most
suitable atonement for such a deprivation.
To have a sufficient conception of the style in which the cause
that we are now pleading for, deserves to be supported, it should
be considered, how much there is to be done, and how great the
benefit is, that will accrue from the doing of it. Ever since the
first institution of schools in Scotland, towns have grown, and the
provision for education has not grown along with them. The
population greatly outstrips the endowed schools, and the object
now is. to establish as many schools as shall overtake the population. Thus, to recover the distance we have lost-thus, to repair
the negligence of upwards of two centuries —thus, to do, in a few
years, the work which should have been gradually advancing
along the lapse of several generations-may well appear an enterprise so vast, as to border on the romantic; and it is not to be disguised, that it is only on the strength of large sums and large sacrifices, that we can at all look for its entire and speedy accomplishment. And yet we will not despair of this cause, when we think
of its many recommendations; and that, with all its cost, it would
still form the best and the cheapest defence of our nation, against
the misrule of the fiercer and more untoward passions of our nature;
and that the true secret for managing a people, is not so much to
curb, as to enlighten them; and that a moral is a far mightier opera.
tion than a physical force, in controlling the elements of political
disorder; and that to give a certainty to the habit of education in
towns, is to do for them  that which has visibly raised the whole
peasantry of Scotland, both in intelligence and virtue, above the
level of any other population.
There is one encouraging circumstance in this charity. It is
not, like many others, interminable. An assignable sum of money
will suffice for it, and suffice for it conclusively. Every mite of
contribution, brings it nearer to its fulfilment. When schools and
school-houses are built, and salaries are provided, and a sum is
raised for the calculable object of repairing our edifices, or of so
extending them, as to meet the growing exigencies of a growing
population, the undertaking is done, and the parish, permanently
translated into the condition of a country parish, as it regards
schools, is upheld in a high tone of scholarship, throughout all its
succeeding generations.
Under such a system as has now been proposed, the efforts of
respectable and well-taught men, may, in the capacity of teachers,
be brought to bear on the very humblest classes of society.
Linked with the parish, by the ties both of residence and of office,




PAROCHIAL SCHOOLS IN SCOTLAND.            113
they might bring a mighty contribution of good to its moral
agency. They would occupy what at present is an unfilled gap
between the higher and the lower orders; fitted for intercourse
with the former, and familiarized to the latter, both by local and
official relationship. Let them have an honest zeal on the side of
Christianity; and the effect of their frequent and extensive minglings with the people, would be beyond the reach of our present
calculation. Those apparently outcast and outlandish features,
which have had such time to grow, and to gather, and to settle
into obstinacy, on the aspect of a neglected race, would soften
and give way under the influences of this blander and better arrangement.  It would do more than reclaim a parish; —it would
go far to domesticate it. Nor do we know how a readier method
could be devised for consolidating the parochial system of our
great cities, or for supplementing, till better and more liberal days,
those woful deficiencies which obtain in our ecclesiastical establishment.
There are many gentlemen of our city, familiar with the spectacle of a public examination at our grammar-school; and who
have frequently enjoyed the gratifying assemblage of parents, and
children, and spectators, all occupied with their respective interests, in this busy scene of emulation and display; and who have
witnessed, with benevolent pleasure, the honest pride of fathers,
and the keen rivalship which obtains among the most eminent of
the young, and the expression of holiday-delight which sits on the
countenances of them all; and who must be sensible, that, during
the mixture of public with domestic feeling, in this little republic,
where no other supremacy is owned, but that of proficiency and
talent, the differences of rank, and the asperities of the great world,
are for a season forgotten.  How far this may contribute to soften
and humanize the system of human life out of doors, it were difficult to say. But certainly, there is nothing that we should desire
more to see, than a parent, among the very humblest of our workmen, sharing, at periodic intervals, in this very exhibition-coming, in his Sabbath attire, to witness the proficiency of his children,
on the day, and in the hall of their annual examination,-meeting
there, with all that is respectable and virtuous in the parish, assembled to do homage to the cherished cause of education among
its families-mingling with parents of the higher orders, even as
their children mingle, and sharing along with them in the same
delightful interests, and in the same pure and pacific triumphssoothed and elevated, even by this transient intercourse with the
people of another rank, and another place in the scale of societyand at length retiring from the spectacle, with a heart more linked
to the general system of the country; and that, because this
country has attached him, by those very ties which bind him to
his own offspring, and to the sacred cause of their moral and religious cultivation.
15




114   ON THE SYSTEM OF PAROCHIAL SCHOOLS IN SCOTLAND.
There cannot be a fitter occasion than the present, for vindicating the wealthier, and for soothing and reconciling the poorer
classes of society. The latter very generally think of the former,
that they bear a haughty indifference to all their concerns.  In
this they are mistaken. The rich are not only willing, but many
of them are earnestly and enthusiastically so, to forward the interests of the poor, if they but knew how to do it; and we trust,
that, in a cause so undeniable as the present, they will nobly redeem, by the generosity of their contributions, all the discredit
which has been so plentifully cast upon them. On the other hand,
the rich often think of the poor, that kindness corrupts them into a
habit of art and ingratitude. But in this they, too, are mistaken.
Such a kindness as we are now pleading for, carries not one single element of corruption along with it. It helps the poor, without degrading them. The charity which humbles a man, never
makes him grateful. But this is not such a charity. The erection of schools, where education is so cheap, that the poor will
count it no hardship to pay, and where education is so good, that
the rich will find it of no hurt to their children to send, does not
bear upon it any of the signals of charity. The benefit of such
an institution, is felt for ages after its origin is forgotten; and it
will be the feeling of the people, not that they are brought nearer
by it to a condition of pauperism-but simply, that, by being
translated into the same facilities, in respect of education, with our
country parishes, they have been admitted to the share which belongs to them, in the common privileges of our nation.




ON THE
TECHNICAL NOMENCLATURE OF THEOLOGY;
BEING THE
SUBSTANCE OF AN ARGUMENT
CONTRIBUTED TO
"THE CHRISTIAN INSTRUCTOR"
IN 1813.
THOUGH faith be the main and radical principle of our religion,
yet there are many of those Christians in whose speculations it
bears a most prominent part, who incidentally betray a very glaring deficiency in the feeling and practice of faith. WVhat we
have in our eye. is that mingled sentiment of fear and aversion,
with which they listen, even to the opinions that are evangelical,
and substantially their own, when they come to them couched in
a phraseology different from what their ears have been accustomed to. They must have something more than the bare and
essential attributes of orthodoxy. Even orthodoxy is not welcome, unless she presents herself in that dress in which she is
familiar to them; and if there be the slightest innovation in the
form of that vehicle which brings her to their doors, she is refised
admittance, or at the best treated as a very suspicious visitor.
Now, in all this, we think we can perceive a want of those two
very things, which they often insist upon, and with great justice,
as the leading attributes of a true and decided Christian;-there
is a want of faith, and a want of spirituality. We do not see
how any variation in the external sign should painfully affect that
mind, which has taken a firm hold of the thing signified. We do
not see how the mechanical circumstances of phrase and expression should discompose that spirit, which maintains a direct intercourse with the Son of God, by confidence in Him as a real and
living personage. We do not see how a reflecting Christian, with
the realities of faithP in immediate contemplation before him, can
shrink in suspicion or disgust from these realities, when presented




116        TECHNICAL NOMENCLATURE OF THEOLOGY.
to him in language equally expressive and significant, but different from that which the usage of favorite authors has rendered
familiar to him. It fills us with the painful suspicion, that there is
little of the vitality of right sentiment in his mind, when he refuses
it, though offered to him through the medium of language, as clear,
as appropriate, and if he would only exercise his attention, as intelligible as that to which he has been habituated. We begin to
fear, that all the charm of orthodoxy to him, is a voice falling
upon his ear like a pleasant song; that the inner man has no share
in it; that the Saviour, who, if present to the heart, can support
it against the substantial terrors of death and of judgment, is
surely not present, when this heart, instead of being filled with
the spirit of power and of a sound mind, resigns itself to the most
fearful and squeamish anxieties about words and phrases, and
other unessentials, which form no real or necessary part of the
kingdom of God.
This timidity operates upon writers, as well as upon readers;
and it has had an undoubted effect in keeping back the style of
theological authors. This is one reason why the theological style
is so stationary. There can be no doubt as to the fact, that, with
very few exceptions, the phraseology of our divines, and in particular of those termed evangelical, is below the elegant and cultivated phraseology of writers upon other subjects. The effect
of this is undeniable. Men of tasteful and cultivated literature,
are repelled from theology at the very outset, by the unseemly
garb in which she is presented to them. Now, if there be nothing
in the subject itself which necessarily leads to any uncouth or
slovenly exhibition of it, why should such an exhibition of it be
persisted in? If there be room for the display of eloquence in
urgent and pathetic exhortation, in masterly discussion, in elevating greatness of conception; does not theology embrace all
these? and will not the language that is clearly and appropriately
expressive of them, possess many of the constituents and varieties
of good writing? If theology, then, can command such an advantage, on what principle should it be kept back from her? Why
must she be debarred from the use of an instrument, by which
she can bring a whole class of men to a hearing, and compel their
respectful attention?   Is not the principle of all things to all
men abandoned, when the partialities of men of taste are not adverted to? Is it not right that the fishers of men should accommodate their bait to the prize that they are aiming at? Is it not
right that every man should be addressed in his own language?
It was for this very purpose, that, in the first age of the church,
God interposed with a miracle, and that the first teachers of the
Gospel were endowed with the gift of tongues. It is true, that the
style of theologians is not absolutely unintelligible to the men I
am alluding to. In reference to the tasteful find literary classes
of society, the theological style can scarcely be called a different




TECHNICAL NOMENCLATURE OF THEOLOGY.           117
tongue. It may, however, be called a different dialect; and if that
dialect were translated into their own, it would, at least, be more
clearly understood, and more patiently attended to. Is not the
principle upon which a miraculous endowment was granted to the
first Christians, of speaking to every man in his own tongue the
wonderful works of God, the very same with the principle upon
which the lessons of theology should be translated into all languages? Is it not just following out this principle, to translate the
lessons of theology into the various modifications of the same
language? Would it not be preposterous, to bring in the dialect
of Yorkshire upon the parish churches of Fife or of Caithness?
Then it is equally so to address men habituated to the language
of general literature, in a style tainted with all the obsolete peculiarities of a former age, and disfigured by all the uncouthness of
a professional dialect.
It will be seen therefore, that we are far, and very far from
contending for a general abandonment of the present style. The
principle of all things to all men, will provide for its continuance,
so long as there is a public in existence, to relish, and be improved
by it. We are convinced, that for many years to come, the
great majority of theological books will and ought to be written
in it. And as our Saviour said, "the poor ye have always with
you;" so His Gospel will ever retain this distinctive attribute, that,
" to the poor, it is preached." The average style of theology will
accommodate itself to the general demand; and we shall be as
loud as any of our readers, in protesting against the injustice of
starving the majority, for the sake of the fastidious or the cultivated few. It does not follow, because we wish one translation
more to be made into the dialect of general literature; that all
the previous translations of theology, into the dialects of plain
sense, of' homely reflection, of forcible and impressive declamation, (even though it should be vulgar, and untasteful, and fitted
only to impress people in the lower circles of society,) should
therefore be destroyed. We do not want to debar the majority
of the species from the province of religious instruction.  All
that we contend for, is an act of justice to the minority; that their
peculiar taste should come in for its share of attention; that books
should be written for them also; that proselytes to the good cause
should be attempted from every quarter of society; that no department of human life should be left untried; that if a single
human soul can be reclaimed by the translation which we are now
demanding, the translation ought to be made; and that the fearfulness which prevents an author from  giving it, or disposes a
reader to receive it with resentment or dislike, is a sentiment
which bears unfavorably upon the interests of the Christian
religion.
But where lies the precise efficacy of such a translation? Will
it accomplish a victory over the natual enmity of the mind to the




118        TECHNICAL NOMENCLATURE OF THEOLOGY.
things of the Spirit of God? Or, will the enticing words of man's
wisdom be able to effect that, which we are taught to believe can
only be accomplished by the demonstration of the Spirit and of
power?
We believe, that repugnance to the peculiar doctrines of Christianity lies a great deal deeper than disgust at the common phraseology in which they are rendered; and we therefore do not think,
that the translation of them into the tasteful and cultivated phraseology of literary men, will operate as a specific for carrying these
men out of darkness into the marvellous light of the Gospel. We
must distinguish here, betwixt the agent and the instrument. The
translation of the Bible into a new language is only an instrument.
The Spirit of God may, and actually does, refuse His agency to
this instrument in a variety of individual cases; but this is no reason for keeping the instrument back. It does not hinder us from
counting every translation into a new language to be a service to
the cause. It does not, of itself, carry a saving influence into the
minds of all who read it; but it is an established instrument by
which the Spirit worketh; and as, in point of fact, it is the mean
of saving some, it is most desirable that such a translation should
be made. Now, what is true of a new language, is true of a new
dialect. We do not detract from the agency of the Spirit by a
translation into either of them; and the merits of the translation
proposed by us, stand precisely on the same ground with the
merits of the Bible Society, and can be vindicated on the same
principles with the beneficent operations of that noble institution.
Let theology, therefore, accomplish the translation of its reasonings and its exhortations into the dialect of taste. She may not
reclaim to the truth all who make use of this dialect, but she does
a great deal if, by means of this translation, she reclaims any of
them; and we contend, that the worth of a single human soul demands the experiment to be made.
The case may be farther illustrated in this way: We do not
say, that going to church is an infallible specific for conversion;
but we say, that it adds to the chance of it; and if the rich people
of the parish are kept back from church by the badness of the
road. or the scantiness of the accommodation, then it were desirable that these should be amended, and that more souls should be
brought within the reach of an established instrument for turning
them to the truth. We do believe, that the alienation of these
people from vital Christianity, lies a great deal deeper than their
dislike at a miry road or a clay floor. It is not the removal of
these that can remove the alienation,-but they lie in the way
of an established instrument; they prevent the application of
the word and of hearing. Bring them fairly within the reach of
this application, and that word of God, which is quick and powerful, and sharper than a two-edged sword, may reach the disease,
deep as it is, and may eradicate it.




TECHNICAL NOMENCLATURE OF THEOLOGY.               119
The main obstacle to the reception of Christian truth, does not
lie in the repugnance we feel to the phraseology in which she is
conveyed to us. It is seated far deeper, and lies in an attribute
of our fallen nature which is diffused universally among all the
individuals of the species, the tasteful as well as the untasteful:
It lies in the enmity of the carnal mind against God; and to subdue that enmity, a mightier element must be brought to bear upon
the human soul than all the powers of eloquence or poetry. The
mere removal of the present phraseology cannot do it; neither
can repairing the road to church, or filling it with decorations,
convert the soul of a single parishioner. Neither expedient would
effect what is the exclusive office of the Spirit of God; but, by
putting both expedients into practice, you secure a larger attendance upon the word,-you give it the benefit of a hearing, —and
you bring into operation the instruments by which the Spirit
worketh; Rom. x. 17. By pleading, then, for the translation of
theology into a style as cultivated, and as much accommodated to
men of general literature, as that which is employed on other
subjects, we only extend the operation of the instruments. The
agency of the Spirit of God, and the great steps of the process by
which a human soul is called out of darkness into the marvellolls
light of the Gospel, are left on precisely the same scriptural footing
as before; and we must do the profound and eloquent author of
the work before us the justice to say, that no Christian writer
whom we have yet met with, appears to stand more decidedly on
the ground of Christianity in its most peculiar and evangelical
form.*
But it is high time to introduce him to the notice of our readers.
We confine our attention to his fourth Essay, entitled, "On the
Conversion of Men of Taste to Evangelical Religion." But the
term "evangelical" requires explanation, and we give it in the
author's own words.
", Christianity, taken in this view, contains a humiliating estimate of the
moral condition of man, as a being radically corrupt: the doctrine of redemption from that condition by the merit and sufferings of Christ: the doctrine of
a divine influence being necessary to transform the character of the mind, in
order to prepare it for a higher station in the universe: and a grand moral peculiarity, by which it insists on humility, penitence, and a separation from the
spirit and habits of the world. I do not see any necessity for a more formal
and amplified description of that mode of understanding Christianity, which
has assumed the distinctive epithet Evangelical, and which is not, to say the
least, more discriminately designated among the scoffing part of the wits, critics,
and theologians of the day, by the terms Fanatical, Calvinistical, and Methodistical."
A discussion may be so far condensed as to admit of no farther
condensation; and it is this which constitutes the difficulty of reviewing the Essay before us. It is too rich in profound, and judi* The work reviewed was Foster's Essays.




120        TECHNICAL NOMENCLATURE OF THEOLOGY.
cious, and original reflection, for us to attempt a complete outline
of it. Under this impression, we pass over a great number of
Mr. Foster's remarks, as to the vulgarity or barbarism of the prevailing theological style, and the causes which may be assigned
for it.  One of these causes is obvious to all.  While other subjects in science and literature are exclusively taken up by the
accomplished, and dignified by all their powers of conception and
phraseology, it forms the distinction of Christianity, that it is most
expressly sent to the class which philosophers have despised. The
effect is undeniable, whether you conceive the writers to belong
to that class, or to write for it. There will, in either case, be an
accommodation to their taste; and the prevailing style of theological books will sink down to a humble and illiterate standard.
There is another cause scarcely noticed by the author, which has
the effect of perpetuating this style, even in spite of the accessions
which evangelical religion may receive from the polished classes
of society. When a man of high literary accomplishment is called
out of darkness, he becomes the subject of an influence too strong
to be counteracted by the antipathies of taste; and, in the mighty
energy which gives birth to his conversion, all the lesser disgusts
of his mind are overborne.  It is the truth, and it alone, which
rivets him; and the forms of the existing style in which it is conveyed to him, so far from repelling, may only be endeared to him,
by being associated in his mind with what he esteems so valuable.
We have reason to believe, that many capable of rendering the
truth into a richer and finer dialect, abstain from the enterprise,
because they find the truth itself to be enough for them, and count
themselves occupied with better things, than the care of embellishing the vehicle in which it is carried. Many are thus lost to that
cause, which our author, for the sake of those who stand without,
is so wisely contending for. Even though they do not give their
positive suffirages to the existing style, they may acquiesce in it;
and, in spite of the proselytes which we hope vital Christianity is
gaining every year from the ranks of philosophy and elegant literature, the phraseology into which she is rendered may not be the
better of them.
We observe, with sincere pleasure, that the author gives his
most unqualified reprobation, to those who turn in dislike from the
truth, from the mere circumstances of meanness and contempt
with which she is associated.  These circumstances would not
make any impression on a mind already devoted to the religion
of Jesus Christ.," No passion that has become predominant, is ever cooled by anything which
can be associated with its object, while that object continues unaltered. The
passion is willing even to verify its power, and the merit of that which interests it, by sometimes letting the unpleasing associations surround and toucl the
object for an instant, and then chasing them away, and it welcomes with augmented attaclllnment that object, coming forth from them unstained; as happy




TECHNICAL NOMENCLATURE OF THEOLOGY.                     121
spirits, at the last day, will receive with joy their bodies recovered from the
dust, in a state of purity that will leave everything belonging to the dust behind. A zealous Christian exults to feel, in contempt of how many counteracting circumstances, he can still love his religion; and that this counteraction,
by exciting his understanding to make a more defined estimate of its excellence,
has but made him love it the more. It has now preoccupied even those avenues
of taste and imagination, by which alone the ungracious effect of associations
could have been admitted. The thing itself is close to his mind, and therefore
the causes which would have misrepresented it, by coming between, have lost
their power. As he hears the sentiments of sincere Christianity from the weak
and illiterate, he says to himself, All this is indeed little, but I am happy to
feel that the subject itself is great, and that this humble display of it cannot
make it appear to me different from what I absolutely know it to be, any more
than a clouded atmosphere can diminish my impression of the grandeur of the
heavens, after I have so often beheld the pure azure and the host of stars.  I
am glad that it has, in this man, all the consolatory, and all the purifying efficacy, which I wish that my more elevated views of it may not fail to have in
me. This is the chief end for which a divine communication can have been
granted to the world. If this religion had been of a nature to seek to acquire
lustre to itself from the mental dignity of its disciples, rather than to make them
pure and happy amidst their littleness, it would have been sent to none of us;
at least not to me: for though I would be grateful for an order of ideas somewhat superior to those of my uncultivated fellow Christians, I am conscious that
the noblest forms of thought in which I apprehend, or could represent the subject, do but contract its amplitude, do but depress its sublimity. Those superior spirits, who are said to rejoice over the first proof of the efficacy of divine
truth, have rejoiced over its introduction, even in so humble a form, into the
mind of this man, and probably see, in fact, but little difference in point of speculative greatness, between his manner of viewing and illustrating it and mine. If
Jesus Christ could be on earth, as before, he would receive this disciple, and benignantly approve, for its operation on the heart, that faith in his doctrines which
men of taste might be tempted to despise for its want of intellectual refinement.
And since all his true disciples are destined to attain greatness at length, the
time is coming when each pious, though now contracted mind, will do justice to
this high subject. Meanwhile, such as this subject will appear to the intelligence of immortals, and such as it will be expressed in their eloquence, such it
really is now; and I should deplore the perversity of my mind, if I felt more
disposed to like the character of the religion from that style of its exhibition
in which it appears humiliated, than from that in which I am assured it will be
sublime. If, while we are all advancing to meet the revelations of eternity, I
have a more vivid and comprehensive idea, than these less privileged Christians,
of the glory of our religion, as displayed in the New Testament, and if I can
much more delightfully participate the sentiments which devout genius has
uttered in the contemplation of it, I am therefore called upon to excel them as
much in devotedness to this religion, as I have a more luminous view of its excellence. Let the spirit of the evangelical system once gain the ascendency,
and it may thus defy the impressions tending to associate disagreeable ideas
with its principles." Page 260.
"I am aware, that no species of irreligion can be much more detestable, than
to sacrifice to the idol of taste anything which essentially belongs to Christianity. If any part of evangelical religion, separately from all injurious associations, were of a nature to displease a finished taste, the duty would evidently
be, to repress its claims and murmurs.  We should dread the presumption
which would require of the Deity, that his spiritual economy should be both in
fact, and in a manner obvious to our view, subjected or correspondent in all
parts to those laws of order and beauty, which we have learnt, partly from the
relations of the material world, and partly from the arbitrary institutions and
16




122         TECHNICAL NOMENCLATURE OF THEOLOGY.
habits of society. But, at the same time, it is a most unwise policy for religion
that the sacrifice of taste, which ought, if required, to be submissively made to
any part of either its essence or its form, as really displayed from heaven,
should be exacted to anything unnecessarily and ungracefully superinduced by
men."  Page 306.
We cannot propose to follow our author, through all his observations upon the requisite changes that must be made in the
theological style before it can be accommodated to men of taste
and general literature. We fulfil our object, if we awaken the
curiosity of our readers; nor shall we regret leaving them with
an unquenched appetite, if it shall have the effect of carrying them
direct to this masterly composition. We feel it our duty, however, to advert to one circumstance, which, if not attended to,
mav lead to the sacrifice of substantial sentiments. He allows,
that theology, like every other science, must have its technicals;
but, while he is for sparing these, he thinks that much may be done
by substituting one set of words for another. Thus, for walk and
conversation, substitute  conduct, actions, and  deportment; for
flesh substitute sometimes body and sometimes natural inclination;
and, in addition to these instances, we present our readers with
the following extract:
", Though there are few words in strict truth synonymous, yet there are very
many which are so in effect, even by the allowance and sanction of the most
rigid laws to which the best writers have conformed their composition. Perhaps this is a defect in human thinking: perhaps every conception ought to be
so exquisitely discriminative and precise, that no two words, which have the
most refined shade of difference in their meaning. should be equally and indifferently eligible to express that conception: But what writer or speaker will
ever exemplify, or even aspire to such perfection? If a divine felt that he had
this extreme discrimination of thought, and that he meant something clearly
different by the words-carnal, godly, edifying, and so of many others, from
what he would express by the words sensual, pious, instructive, he would certainly do right to adhere to the more peculiar words: but if he does not, he
may perhaps improve the vehicle without hurting the material of his religious
communications, by adopting the general and classical mode of expression."
Page 298.
Now, we assert, that even in some of these very changes, we
can see a reason why, at the outset of the proposed reformation,
the material of the religious communication may be hurt by adopting the general and classical mode of expression. The meaning
of any word is collected from the general sense in which it is understood by the authors who make use of it. Now, we apprehend
that the word godly, as it occurs in the works of evangelical authors, means a great deal more than the word pious, as it occurs
in the lucubrations of our tasteful and academical moralists.  It is
true, that if you were to bring each party to their definitions, there
may be no perceivable difference in the account which each gave
of the signification of the two words. But it is not the formally
announced meaning that we are concerned with. It is what the




TECHNICAL NOMENCLATURE OF THEOLOGY.         123
author himself calls the meaning in effect; and we contend, that
this meaning is only to be sought from the general tone and sentiment of those who make use of the word in question. We assert,
then, that, in point of fact, the word godly, in the mind of an evangelical author, denotes a sentiment, far more deeply seated in its
principle, and far wider in its operation, than the word pious in
the great bulk of classical and literary authors: that the one carries along with it the idea of a far more entire devotedness to God
than the other; that the one brings you up to the high requisition
of the New Testament, which calls upon you to do all things to
God's glory; while the other is satisfied with less thorough and
less painful renunciations, and may consist with many acts of accommodation to the world, which a Christian, in the full extent
and significancy of the term, would shrink from. We therefore
assert, that the effective meaning of the one word is different from
the effective meaning of the other; that the translation would not
be a fair one; that it would give us a meaning which came short
of the original in energy and extent; and that, though vou improve the vehicle of the religious communication, by patching
upon it the livery of a classical author, you hazard the material
of the communication itself, by bringing it down to the standard
of his slender and inefficient conceptions.
We are quite aware, that with some this may not appear an
apposite example. But it is for this very reason that we select it;
because the cause why it does not appear apposite to them, is a
strong confirmation of the truth which we are aiming to illustrate.
Let it be recollected, that it is only at the outset of the proposed
change, that we conceive danger to exist; and accordingly, however inapposite the above example may appear to some, we think
that it will appear apposite enough to those whose reading has
been confined to the Bible, and the older theologians. We are
almost quite sure, that to their minds piety is a more meagre and
unsubstantial word than godliness, and that in the substitution
therefore of the one for the other, the sentiment appears enfeebled,
and duty seems to sink downward fiom the high standard of its
old requisitions. Before there is felt to be a perfect equivalency
betwixt the two terms, the word piety must be used for some time
by authors whose sentiments are as evangelical, and as deeply infused with the vitality of Christian sentiment, as the excellent compositions of the puritanical age. Now we know, that for some
time, there have been such authors, and accordingly there are already some readers who feel the equivalency, and may therefore
conceive the above example to be ill selected. We have no doubt,
that in the progress of time, the great majority of readers will
come to feel the perfect equivalency of the two terms; that when
such writers as Foster, and Hall, and Gregory, and Hannah More
multiply amongst us, the word piety will be raised above that
humble pitch of sentiment to which it has been sunk by our slen



124       TECHNICAL NOMENCLATURE OF THEOLOGY.
der divines, and unchristian moralists; that as it gets into better
hands, all the associations of feebleness and inadequacy, which it
derived from the tone of its old patrons, will be chased away from
it; and after a temporary inconvenience, the religious communication will not only come out in an improved vehicle, but the material will pass to us in all its force, and in all its entireness.
While we are upon the influence of new words, it may not be
foreign to our subject, but rather give additional illustration to it,
if we apply the above remark to an amended translation of Dr.
Campbell's. It is true, that YEmavoLa and iT,8oEUsoat, are words of
different signification, and should be rendered by different words
in the English translation. We fear, however, that the meaning
in efect of Dr. Campbell's " reformation" is not equivalent to the,sapo'o, of the New Testament. It is true, that if for the meaning of the word reformation, you were to connect it with its derivatives, it may be made to express that full change, which we so
often read of in the New Testament; and to be folrmed again conveys as strong an idea of regeneration, as to be " born again," and
to be "transformed by the renewing of the mind." But no man
knows better than Dr. Campbell did, that in the choice of words
we must be regulated by the actual, and not by the etymological
sense. Now were the actual sense of the word reformation to be
taken from the average use of those who employ it, it would convey, I am afraid, an idea far short of " repentance unto salvation."  We conceive that the term is currently employed to denote a change of external habit, without any reference to the operation of the inner principle which gave rise to it; and that the
man who prunes his conduct of its notorious and visible deficiencies from propriety, is termed a reformed man. To make use of
a phrase which we fear may be provincial, and; therefore not
understood by all our readers, the reformed man is equivalent to
the man who has turned over a new leaf; and as this may be
done, and has been done without the operation of a true Christian
principle, the term reformation does not in effect come up to that
total change of soul, and spirit, and body, which is implied in the
I,6Iaola of the Evangelists. In a word, reformation, so far from
being usramota, is only a fruit worthy of it. It is a stream flowing
out of that well of water, which springeth up into everlasting life.
Other streams may bear a deceitful semblance to it, and may
wear its name; and we regret that a word should have been
here employed which, in its effective meaning, stops short at
the outward conduct, and carries us not up to that "renewal in
the spirit of our minds," by which we " die unto sin, and live unto
righteousness."
But to return to the author before us. If two churches lay at
an equal distance from our dwelling-house, the one furnished with
a good road, and the other with a bad one, the inducement to
attend, in as far as this circumstance had weight, would lie on the




TECHNICAL NOMENCLATURE OF TIHEOLOGY.              1]25
side of the former. But if in point of fact, a lax and feeble Chris.
tianity was taught in the former, while in the latter, Christianity
was taught in a pure and evangelical form; the repair of the last
road would, on that very account, become an object more dear
than ever to benevolence and true piety. In the same manner, if
general literature be rendered attractive by the embellishments of
taste, and of good expression, while the evangelical doctrines of
the Gospel are set forward in that slovenly and vulgar style, which
is calculated to repel attention at the very outset, it becomes of
importance to inquire. what is the kind of lessons which general
literature affords, and in how far they are congenial with the lessons of our Saviour.  If we find that there is a total want of congeniality, the reformation proposed by the enlightened author before us, becomes on that very account, an object of higher necessity and importance.  Now we think, that Mr. Foster has completely established this want of congeniality, and that in contrasting the spirit both of ancient and modern literature, with the spirit
of the New Testament, he has proved the influence of the one to
be in direct hostility to the influence of the other. On this very
account, it becomes our bounden duty to give the one every attraction which the other is in possession of, provided that the material
of the communication shall not be hurt or impaired by it. Let us,
if possible, equalize the inducements, and give that which is salu —
tary an air as inviting, as that which we think our author proves
incontestably to be most poisonous and destructive. Hear him
upon the tendency of Homer's poetry, the most powerful in the
world for seducing a young and ardent imagination, and for imparting an unchristian tone of sentiment to its devoted admirers.
"I' ] therefore ask again, how it would be possible for a man, whose mind was
first completely assimilated to the spirit of Jesus Christ, to read such a work
without a most vivid antipathy to what he perceived to be the moral spirit of
the poet?  And if it were not too strange a supposition, that the most characteristic parts of the Ilia(l had been read in the presence and hearing of our
Lord, and by a person animated by a fervent sympathy with the work, do you
not instantly imagine him expressing the most emphatic indignation?  Would
not the reader have been made to know, that in the spirit of that book, he
could never become a disciple and a friend of the Messiah? But then, if he
believed this declaration, and were serious enough to care about being the disciple and friend of the Messiah, would he not have deemed himself extremely
unfortunate to have been seduced, through the pleasures of taste and imagination, into habits of feeling, which rendered it impossible, till they could be destroyed, for him to receive the only t6ue religion, and the only Redeemer of the
world? To show how impossible, I wish I may be pardoned for making another
strange, and, indeed, a most monstrous supposition, namely, that Achilles, Diomede, Ajax, and Ulysses had been real persons, living in the time of our Lord,
and had become his disciples, and yet, (excelting the mere exchange of the
notions of mythology for Christian opinions,) had retained entire the state of
mind with which their poet has exhibited them. It is instantly perceived that
Satan, Beelzebub, and Moloch might as consistently have been retained in
heaven. But here the question comes to a point; if these great examples of
glorious character, pretending to coalesce with the transcendent sovereign of




126         TECHNICAL NOMENCLATURE OF THEOLOGY.
virtue, would have been probably the most enormous incongruity existing, cr
that ever had existed, in the whole universe, what harmony can there be between a man who has acquired a considerable degree of congeniality with the
spirit of these heroes, and that paramount teacher, and pattern of excellence?
And who will assure me, that the enthusiast for heroic poetry does not acquire
a degree of this congeniality? But unless I can be so assured, I persist in asserting the noxiousness of such poetry.
1" Yet the work of Homer is notwithstanding the book which Christian poets
have translated, which Christian divines have edited and commented on with
pride, at which Christian ladies have been delighted to see their sons kindle
into rapture, and which forms an essential part of the course of a liberal education, over all those countries on which the Gospel shines. And who can tell
how much that passion for war, which from the universality of its prevalence,
might seem inseparable from the nature of man, may, in the civilized world,
have been reinforced by the enthusiastic admiration, with which young men
have read Homer and similar poets, whose genius has transformed what is, and
ought always to appear purely horrid, into an aspect of grandeur." Page 346.
We cannot follow him through the masterly exposition of the
modern writers, nor can we offer more than a passing tribute to
those fine discriminating powers which Mr. Foster has exhibited
in his observations on the Christianity of Samuel Johnson.  We
concur with him in his general condemnation of the British Classics; for both in their speculations upon the basis of duty, upon
the prospects of man, upon the place which he occupies, and upon
the relation which he stands in to his God, and in the consolations
which they address to suffering and dying humanity, we recognize the features of a school at entire antipodes with the school of
Christ. But we cannot do better on this part of the subject, than
offer extracts from the author himself.
"One thing extremely obvious to remark is, that the good man, the man of
virtue, who is necessarily presented to view ten thousand times in the volumes
of these writers, is not a Christian.  His character could have been formed,
though the Christian revelation had never been opened on the earth; or though
all the copies of the New Testament had perished ages since; and it might have
appeared admirable, but not peculiar. There are no foreign unaccountable
marks upon it, that could in such a preclusion of the Christian truth, have excited wonder; what could be the relations, or the object of such a strange, but
systematical singularity, and in what school or company it had acquired its principles and its feelings? Let it only be said, that this man of virtue had conversed whole years with the instructors of Plato and Cicero, and all would be
explained. Nothing would lead to ask,'But with whom then has he conversed
since, to lose so completely the appropriate character of his schools, under the
broad impression of some other mightier influence?'
"' The good man of our polite literature, never talks with affectionate devotion
of Christ, as the great High Priest of hj.profession, as the exalted Friend,
whose injunctions are the laws of his virtues, whose work and sacrifice are the
basis of his hope, whose doctrines guide and awe his reasonings, and whose example is the pattern which he is earnestly aspiring to resemble. The last intellectual and moral designation in the world, by which it would occur to you
to describe him, would be those by which the apostles so much exulted to be
recognized, a disciple, and a servant of Jesus Christ; nor would he (I am supposing this character to become a real person) be at all gratified by being so
described. You do not hear him avowing that he deems the habitual remembrance of Christ essential to the nature of that excellence which he is cultivat



TECHNICAL NOMENCLATURE OF THEOLOGY.                    127
ing. He rather seems, with the utmost coolness of choice, adopting virtue as
according with the dignity of a rational agent, than to be in the last degree impelled to it by any relations with the Saviour of the world.
" On the supposition of a person realizing this character, having fallen into
the company of St. Paul, you can easily imagine the total want of congeniality.
Though both avowedly devoted to truth, to virtue, and perhaps to religion, the
difference in the cast of their sentiments would have been as great, as that between the physical constitution and habitudes of a native of the country at the
equator, and those of one from the arctic regions. Would not the apostle's feeling of the continual intervention of ideas concerning one object, in all subjects,
places, and times, have appeared to this man of virtue and wisdom, inconceivably mystical? In what manner would he have listened to the emphatical expressions respecting the love of Christ constraining us; living not to ourselves,
but to him that died for us and rose again; counting all things but loss for the
knowledge of Christ; being ardent to win Christ, and be found in him; and
trusting that Christ should be magnified in our body, whether by life or by
death? Perhaps St. Paul's energy, and the appearance of its being accompanied by the firmest intellect, might have awed him into silence. But amidst
that silence, he must, in order to defend his self-complacency, have decided,
that the apostle's mind had fallen, notwithstanding its strength, under the dominion of an irritable association; for he would have been conscious, that no
such ideas had ever kindled his affictions, and that no such affections had ever
animated his actions; and yet he was indubitably a good man, and could, in
another style, be as eloquent for goodness as St. Paul himself. He would therefore have concluded, either that it was not necessary to be a Christian, or that
this order of feelings was not necessary to that character. But if the apostle's
sagacity haqd detected the cause of this reserve, and the nature of his associate's
reflections,bhe would most certainly have declared to him with great solemnity,
that both these things were necessary, or that he had been deceived by inspiration, and he would have parted from this self-complacent man with admonition
and compassion. Now, would St. Paul have been wrong? But if he would
have been right, what becomes of those authors, whose works, whether from
neglect or design, tend to satisfy their readers of the perfection of a form of character, which he would have pronounced fatally defective?
"' Again, moral writings are instructions on the subject of happiness.  Now,
the doctrine of this subject is declared in the evangelical testimony: it had been
strange, indeed, if it had not, when the happiness of man was the precise object of the communication. And what, according to this communication, are
the essential requisites to that condition of mind, without which no man ought
to be called happy; without which ignorance or insensibility alone can be content, and folly alone can be cheerful? A simple readerof the Christian Scriptures
will reply, that they are a change of heart, called conversion,-the assurance
of the pardon of sin through Jesus Christ,-a habit of devotion, approaching so
near to intercourse with the Supreme Object of devotion, that revelation has
called it communion with God,-a process of improvement called sanctification,
-a confidence in the divine Providence, that all things shall work together for
good,-and a conscious preparation for another life, including a firm hope of
eternal felicity. And what else can he reply?  What else can you reply?
Did the lamp of heaven ever shine more clearly since Omnipotence lighted it,
than these ideas display themselves through the New Testament? Is this, then,
absolutely the true, and the only true account of happiness? It is not that
which our accomplished writers in general have chosen to sanction. Your recollection will tell you, that they have most certainly presumed to avow, or to
insinuate, a doctrine of happiness, which implies much of the Christian doctrine
to be a needless intruder on our speculations, or an imposition on our belief;
and I am astonished, that this serious fact should so little have alarmed the
Christian students of elegant literature.  The wide difference between the dic



128          TECHNICAL NOMENCLATURE OF THEOLOGY.
tates of the two authorities is too evident to be overlooked; for the writers in
question have very rarely, amidst an immense assemblage of sentiments concerning happiness, wade any reference to what the New Testament so obviously
declares to be its constituent and vital principles. How many times you might
read the sun or the moon to repose, before you would find an assertion or a recognition, for instance, of a change of the mind being requisite to happiness, in
any terms commensurate with the significance which this article seems to bear,
in all the various forms in which it is expressed and repeated in the New Testament. Some of these writers appear hardly to have admitted, or to have recollected even the proposition, that happiness must essentially consist in something so fixed in the mind itself, as to be substantially independent of external
circumstances; for their most animated representations of it, are merely descriptions of fortunate combinations of these circumstances, and of the feelings immediately caused by them, which will expire the moment that these combinations are broken up. The greater numberhave, however, fully admitted the proposition, and have given their illustration of the doctrine of happiness accordingly.
And what appears in these illustrations as the highest form of happiness? It is
probably that of a man feeling an elevated complacency in his own excellence, a
proud consciousness of rectitude; possessing extended views, cleared from the
mists of ignorance, prejudice, and superstition; unfolding the generosity of his
nature in the exercise of beneficence, without feeling, however, any grateful incitement from remembrance of the transcendent generosity of the Son of man;
maintaining, in respect of the events and bustle of the surrounding scene, a dignified indifference, which can let the world go its own way, and can enjoy its
tranquillity the while; and living in a cool resignation to fate, without any strong
expressions of a specific hope, or even solicitude, with regard to the termination
of life, and to all futurity. Now, whatever degree of resemblance some of these
distinctions may bear to the Christian theory of happiness, it is evident, that,
on the whole, the two modes are so different, that the same man cannot realize
them both.  The result is obvious; the natural effect of incompetent and fallacious schemes, prepossessing the mind by every grace of genius, will be an
aversion to the Christian views of happiness, which will appear at the least
very strange, and probably very irrational."  Pp. 382-388.
There is one point in which we are happy not to concur with
the estimable author of the performance before us. He speaks as
if the author, whose unchristian tendencies he has so successfully
exposed, had such decided possession of the public taste, that it is
impossible to dislodge them.;" Under whlat restrictions," says he in his concluding paragraph, "ought the
study of polite literature to be conducted? I cannot but have foreseen, that
this question must return at the end of these observations, and I can only answer, as I have answered before, Polite literature will necessarily continue to
be the grand school of intellectual and moral cultivation. The evils, therefore,
which it may contain, will as certainly affect, in some degree, the minds of the
successive students, as the hurtful influence of the climate, or of the seasons,
will affect their bodies. To be thus affected, is a part of the destiny under
which they are born in a civilized country. It is indispensable to acquire the
advantage; it is inevitable to incur the evil. The means of counteraction will
amount, it is to be feared, to no more than palliatives.  Nor can these be proposed in any specific method. All that I can do, is to urge on the reader of
taste, the very serious duty of continually calling to his mind-and if he is a
parent or preceptor, of cogently representing to his pupils-the real character
of the religion of the New Testament, and the reasons which command an inviolable adherence to it."




TECHNICAL NOMENCLATURE OF THEOLOGY.         129
In another place he says " he really does not see what a serious
observer of the character of mankind can offer." When a man
contemplates a mischief in all its inveteracy and extent, he is not
to sink into hopeless despondency, because he finds he cannot
sweep it away by the power of his own individual arm. What
no single individual can effect, may be done by the operation of
time, and the strength of numbers. We know of no single writer
who has contributed more to the good cause than Mr. Foster
himself. He has alarmed many a Christian for the safety of his
principles. He has thrown a new element into our estimation of
the classics. The element is a disquieting one, and it will unsettle that complacency with which we were wont to read and admire them. He has himself given some very fine and powerful
specimens of the reformed dialect that he contends for; and, in
the Essays before us, we meet with passages which can bear comparison with the happiest paragraphs of Johnson. He cordially
allows, that in the subject itself there is a grandeur, which it were
vain to look for in any of the ordinary themes of eloquence or
poetry. Let writers arise, then, to do it justice. Let them be all
things to all men, that they may gain some; and if a single proselyte can be thereby drawn from the ranks of literature, let all
the embellishments of genius and fancy be thrown around the
subject. One man has already done much. Others are rising
around; and, with the advantage of a higher subject, they will in
time rival the unchristian moralists of the day, and overmatch
them. We look upon taste as too frail and fluctuating an element
in the human character, to found any despair upon. It is not in
this quarter where the stubbornness of the resistance lies. It is in
the natural enmity of the human heart to divine things; and we
rejoice to think, that this is a principle which is destined to receive
its death-blow from a higher hand. The experience of a few
years may well convince us, that there is nothing irreversible in
human affairs; and that even minds and opinions are subject to as
great and sudden revolutions as the fortunes or politics of the
species. Let us not be appalled, then, by the existence of error,
however deeply rooted, or widely spread among mankind. Let
us not acquiesce in it as some hopeless calamity, which no resistance can overpower, and which can only be qualified by half
measures and paltry mitigations. Let us lift an intrepid voice for
the entire removal of all that offendeth.
17




ON THE EFFICACY OF MISSIONS,
AS CONDUCTED BY
THE MORAVIANS;
BEING THE
SUBSTANCE OF AN ARGUMENT
CONTRIBUTED TO
"THE ECLECTIC REVIEW"
IN 1815.
THE natural enmity of the human heart to the things of God, is
a principle, which though it find no place in the systems of our
intellectual philosophers, has as wide an operation as any which
they have put down in their list of categories. How is it then
that Moravians, who, of all classes of Christians, have evinced the
most earnest and persevering devotedness to these things, have
of late become, with men of taste, the objects of tender admiration? That they should be loved and admired by the decided
Christian, is not to be wondered at: but that they should be idols of
a fashionable admiration; that they should be sought after and
visited by secular men; that travellers of all kinds should give
way to the ecstasy of sentiment, as they pass through their villages, and take a survey of their establishments and their doings;
that the very sound of Moravian music, and the very sight of a
Moravian burial-place,.should so fill the hearts of these men with
images of delight and peacefulness, as to inspire them with something like the kindlings of piety;-all this is surely something new
and strange, and might dispose the unthinking to suspect the truth
of these unquestionable positions, that " the carnal mind is enmity
against God," and that "the natural man receiveth not the things
of the Spirit of God, for they are foolishness unto him, neither can
he know them, because they are spiritually discerned."
But we do not imagine it difficult to give the explanation. It is
surely conceivable that the actuating principle of a Moravian en



ON THE MORAVIANS VIEWED AS MISSIONARIES.       131
terprise, may carry no sympathy whatever along with it, while
many things may be done in the prosecution of this enterprise,
most congenial to the taste, and the wishes, and the natural feelings of worldly men. They may not be able to enter into the
ardent anxiety of the Moravians for the salvation of human souls;
and when the principle is stripped of every accompaniment, and
laid in naked and solitary exhibition before them, they may laugh
at its folly, or be disgusted by its fanaticism. This, however, is
the very principle on which are founded all their missionary undertakings; and it is not till after a lengthened course of operations, that it gathers those accompaniments around it, which have
drawn upon the United Brethren the homage of men who shrink
in repugnance and disgust from the principle itself. With the
heart's desire that men should be saved, they cannot sympathize;
but when these men, the objects of his earnest solicitude, live at a
distance, the missionary, to carry his desire into effect, must get
near them, and traversing a lengthened line on the surface of the
globe, he will supply his additions or his corrections to the science
of geography. When they speak in an unknown tongue, the missionary must be understood by them; and giving his patient labor
to the acquirement of a new language, he furnishes another document to the student of philology. When they are signalized by
habits or observances of their own, the missionary records them
for the information and benefit of his successors; and our knowledge of human nature, with all its various and wonderful peculiarities, is extended. When they live in a country, the scenery
and productions of which have been yet unrecorded by the pen
of travellers, the missionary, not unmindful of the sanction given
by our Saviour himself to an admiration of the appearances of
nature, will describe them, and give a wider range to the science
of natural history. If they are in the infancy of civilization, the
mighty power of Christian truth will soften and reclaim them.
And surely, it is not difficult to conceive, how these and similar
achievements may draw forth an acknowledgment from many,
who attach no value to the principles of the Gospel, and take no
interest in its progress; how the philosopher will give his testimony to the merits of these men who have made greater progress
in the work of humanizing savages, than could have been done by
the ordinary methods in the course of centuries; and how the interesting spectacle of Esquimaux villages and Indian schools,
may, without the aid of any Gospel principle whatever, bring out
strains of tenderest admiration from tuneful poets and weeping
sentimentalists.
All this is very conceivable, and it is what Moravians, at this
moment, actually experience. They have been much longer in the
field of missionary enterprise, than the most active and conspicuous of their fellow laborers belonging to other societies. They
have had time for the production of more gratifying results; and




132     ON THE MORAVIANS VIEWED AS MISSIONARIES.
the finished spectacle of their orderly and peaceful establishments,
strikes at once upon the eye of many an admirer, who knows not
how to relish or to appreciate the principle which gives life and
perpetuity to the whole exhibition.
These observations may serve to account for the mistaken principle upon which many admirers of the United Brethren give them
the preference over all other missionaries. We are ready to concur in the preference, but not in the principle upon which they
found it. They conceive that the Moravians make no attempt
towards christianizing the heathen, till they have gone through
the long preparatory work of training them up in the arts of life,
and in the various moralities and decencies of social intercourse.
This is a very natural supposition; but nothing can be more untrue. It is doing just what every superficial man is apt to do in
other departments of observation-mistaking the effect for the
cause. They go to a missionary establishment of United Brethren
among the heathen. They pay a visit to one of their villages,
whether in Greenland, in S. Africa, or on the coast of Labrador.
It is evident that the cleanly houses, cultivated gardens, and neat
specimens of manufacture, will strike the eye much sooner-than
the unseen principle of this wonderful revolution in the habits of
savages will unfold itself to the discernment of the mind. And
thus it is, that in their description of all this, they reverse the actual process. They tell us that these most rational of all missionaries, begin their attempts on the heathen by the work of civilizing them; that they teach them to weave, to till, and to store up
winter provisions, and to observe justice in their dealings with one
another; and then, and not till then, do they, somehow or other,
implant upon this preliminary dressing, the mysteries and peculiarities of the Christian Faith. Thus it is that these men of mere
spectacle begin to philosophize on the subject, and set up the case
of the Moravians as a reproach and an example to all other missionaries.
Now we venture to say that the Moravians, at the outset of
their conference with savages, keep at as great a distance from
any instruction about the arts of weaving, and sewing, and tilling
land, as the Apostle Paul did, when he went about among Greeks
and barbarians, charged with the message of salvation to all who
would listen and believe. He preached nothing but "Jesus Christ
and him crucified," and neither do they; and the faith which attends the word of their testimony, how foolish and fanatical soever it
may appear in the eyes of worldly men, proves it to be the power of
God and the wisdom of God unto salvation. It is another evidence
of the foolishness of God being wiser than men, and the weakness
of God being stronger than men. However wonderful it may be,
yet such is the fact, that a savage, when spoken to on the subject
of his soul, of sin, and of the Saviour, has his attention more easily
compelled, and his resistance more effectually subdued, than when




ON THE MORAVIANS VIEWED AS MISSIONARIES.              133
he is addressed upon any other subject whether of moral or economical instruction. And this is precisely the way in which Moravians have gone to work. They preached the peculiar tenets
of the New Testament at the very outset. They gained converts through that Faith which cometh by hearing. These converts multiplied, and, in many instances, they have settled around
them. It is true that they have had unexampled success in the
business of civilizing their disciples; but it has arisen from their
having stood longer on the vantage ground of the previous
knowledge of Christianity with which they had furnished them,
than any other missionaries; and the peace, and order, and industry, which are represented by rash and superficial observers, as
the antecedents of the business, are, in fact, so many consequents
flowing out of the mighty influence which attends the word of
their testimony.
It is well that the Moravians have risen into popular admiration. This will surely give weight to their own testimony about
their own matters. And when one of their members publishes
an account of the manner in which the United Brethren preach
the Gospel, and carry on their missions among the heathen, information from such a quarter will surely be looked upon as of
higher authority than the rapid description of a traveller. Now
such a treatise has been published by Spangenberg; and it does
not appear that any preparatory civilization is now attempted by
their missionaries, who have been engaged in the business for
many years, and have been eminent above all others, both for their
experience and their success. We shall subjoin a few extracts as
being completely decisive upon this point.
"The method of the brethren to bring the heathen to Christ was, in the beginning of their attempts, particularly in Greenland, nearly as follows:" They proved to the heathen that there is a God, and spoke to them of His
attributes and perfections. In the next place, they spoke upon the creation;how God had made man after His own image, which, however, was soon lost
by the fall. They then made the heathen acquainted with the laws which God
gave by His servant Moses. Hence they proved to them that they were sinners, and had deserved temporal and eternal punishment. And from this they
drew the consequence, that there must be one who reconciled them to God, &c.
" This method of teaching they continued for a long time, but without any
success, for the heathen became tired of such discourses. If it be asked, how
happened it that the brethren fell upon the said method, I must confess that I
am apprehensive I was myself the cause of it. The first brethren who were
destined for Greenland, went to Copenhagen by way of Halle, where I at that
time lived. They tarried a few days with me, and conversed with me relative
to their intentions. Upon this, I gave them a book to read, (for I knew no better at that time,) in which a certain divine treated, among the rest, of the method
to convince and to bring the heathen to Christ. The good man had probably
never seen a heathen in all his life, much less converted any; but yet he imagined he could give directions how to set about it. The brethren followed
them, but without success.
1" Meanwhile, it pleased the Lord our Saviour to give the congregation at
Herrnhut more insight into the word of atonement through the offering of Jesus.




134       ON TIlE MORAVIANS VIEWED AS MISSIONARIES.
Nor were the heathen wanting in declaring to those in Greenland, that they
must preach Jesus Christ, if they meant to produce any blessing among the
heathen. Upon this, the brethren began to translate some parts of the Gospel,
especially what relates to the sufferings and death of Jesus, and read that to the
heathen. This gave an opportunity to speak with them farther on that head.
Then God opened their hearts that they attended to the word, and it proved to
them also the power of God. They became desirous of hearing more about it,
and the fire which had been kindled in them by the Holy Ghost, spread farther
and farther. And thus many were converted to God: since which time the
brethren were frequently asked by the heathen, why they did not preach sooner
to them of Jesus; that they had been quite tired of hearing the discourses about
God, and the two first parents, &c.
"' About thirty years ago, when I lived in North America, I sometimes got
the brethren that were used occasionally in the service of our Lord to come together, in order that I might converse with them about their labors. Johannes,
an Indian of the Mahikander nation, who had formerly been a very wicked
man, but was now thoroughly converted, and was our fellow-laborer in the congregation gathered from among the heathens at that time dwelling in Chekome
kah, happened to be just then on a visit with us, and also came to our little
meeting. He was a man that had excellent gifts, was a bold confessor of what
he knew to be true, and understood the German language so as to express himself with sufficient clearness. As we were speaking with one another about
the heathen, he said, among other things, — Brethren, I have been a heathen
and am grown old among them; I know, therefore, very well how it is with the
heathen. A preacher came once to us, desiring to instruct us, and began by
proving to us that there was a God. On which we said to him, " Well, and
dost thou think we are ignorant of that? now go again whence thou camest."
Another preacher came another time, and would instruct us, saying, Ye
must not steal, nor drink too much, nor lie, &c.-We answered him, 1" Fool,
that thou art! dost thou think that we do not know that? go and learn it first
thyself, and teach the people thou belongest to not to do these things. For who
are greater drunkards, or thieves, or liars, than thine own people?" Thus we
sent him away also. Some time after this Christian Henry, one of the brethren,
came to me into my hut, and sat down by me. The contents of his discourse
to me were nearly these:-I come to thee in the name of the Lord of heaven and
earth. He acquaints thee that he would gladly save thee, and rescue thee from
the miserable state in which thou liest. To this end he became a man, bath
given his life for mankind, and shed his blood for them, &c. Upon this he lay
down upon a board in my hut and fell a-sleep, being fatigued with his journey.
I thought within myself,-what manner of man is this? there he lies and sleeps
so sweetly; I might kill himn immediately, and throw him out into the forest,
who would care for it? but he is unconcerned. However, I could not get rid of
his words: they continually recurred to me; and though I went to sleep, yet I
dlrearned of the blood which Christ had shed for us. I thought-this is very
strange, and went to interpret to the other Indians the words which Christian
Henry spake farther to us. Thus, through the grace of God, the awakening
among us took place. I tell you, therefore, brethren, preach to the heathen
Christ and his blood, and his death, if ye would wish to produce a blessing
among them. Such was the exhortation of Johannes, the Mahikander, to us.
"But the brethren were already, before that time, convinced that Jesus
Christ must be the marrow and substance of the preaching of the Gospel
among the heathen, even as He is in general called, with justice, the marrow
and substance of the whole Bible. The ground of this position is contained in
Sect. 9, and following, where we treated of the Apostles' labors among the Gentiles. Nor shall we do amiss if we follow the method of the Apostles, who, in
their office, were under the peculiar leadings of the Holy Spirit, as far as it is
applicable to us. Hence what Paul writes to the Corinthians —' I determined




ON THE MORAVIANS VIEWED AS MISSIONARIES.         135
not to know anything among you save Jesus Christ and him crucified,' —is a
firmly established rule for us in preaching to the heathen." (Spangenberg's
Account of the Manner in which the United Brethren carry on their Missions
among the Heathen. Sections 44-46.)
Before we give any more extracts from Spangenberg, we cannot help remarking on the efficacy of the simple word upon
minds totally unfurnished by any previous discipline whatever.
This is something more than matter of faith; it is matter of experience: it is the result of many an actual experiment upon human nature. And how comes it, therefore, that philosophers of
the day are so often found to flinch from their favorite evidence
on every question connected with the truth and the progress of
Christianity? The efficacy of the Bible alone, upon simple and
unfurnished minds, is a fact; and the finest examples of it are to
be found in almost every page of the annals of Moravianism.
The worthy men of this denomination have long labored in the
field of missionary exertion, and Greenland was one scene of their
earliest enterprises. In their progress thither, they were furnished
with a cloistered speculation on the likeliest method of obtaining
access to the mind of a savage for the truths of Christianity.
These men had gone out of Germany without any other instruments for their work than the Word of God in their hands, and a
believing prayer in their hearts. But the author of this speculation had thought, and thought profoundly on the subject; and the
humble brethren bowed for once to the wisdom of this world,
when his synthetic process for the conversion of savages was put
into their hands, and they took it along with them. Thus furnished, they entered upon the field of exertion; and never was
human nature subjected to experiment under circumstances more
favorable. Never did it come in a more simple and elementary
state under the treatment of a foreign application. There was no
disturbing cause to affect the result of this interesting trial; no
bias of education to embarrass our conclusions; no mixture of
any previous ingredient to warp and to darken the phenomena, or
to throw a disguise over that clear and decisive principle which
was on the eve of emerging from them. The rationalizing process of the divine was first put into operation and it failed. Year
after year did they take their departure from the simplicity of his
first principles, and try to conduct the Greenlanders with them
along the pathway which he had constructed for leading them to
Christ. The Greenlanders refused to move a single step, and
with as great obstinacy as the world of matter refuses to conform
her processess to the fanciful theories of men. The brethren, disheartened at the result of an operation so fatiguing and so fruitless, resolved to vary the experiment, and throwing aside all their
preparatory instructions, they brought the word of the testimony
directly to bear upon them. The effect was instantaneous. God,
who knoweth what is in man, knoweth also the kind of application




136     ON THE MORAVIANS VIEWED AS MISSIONARIES.
that should be made to man. He glorified the word of His grace,
and gave it efficacy. That word which He Himself commanded
to be preached to all nations, to the barbarians as well as the
Greeks, is surely the mighty instrument for the pulling down of
strong holds; and the Moravians have found it so. The Green.
land experiment has furnished them with a principle which they
carry along with them in all their enterprises. It has seldom
failed them in any quarter of the globe; and they can now appeal
to thousands and thousands of their converts, as so many distinct
testimonies of the efficacy of the Bible.
We like to urge the case of the Moravians, for we think that
much may be made of it in the way of reclaiming that unhallowed
contempt which some of the ablest, and most accomplished men
of this country have expressed for a righteous cause. The truth
is, that these Moravians have of late become the objects of a sentimental admiration, and that too to men whom the power of Divine grace has not yet delivered from their natural enmity to the
truth as it is in Jesus. Their numerous establishments; and the
many interesting pictures of peace, and order, and industry, which
they have reared among the wilds of heathenism, have at length
compelled the testimony of travellers. It is delightful to be told
of the neat attire and cultivated gardens of savages; and we can
easily conceive how a sprig of honeysuckle, at the cottage door
of a Hottentot, may extort some admiring and poetical prettiness
from a charmed spectator, who would shrink offended from the peculiarities of the Gospel. Now they are right as to the fact. It
is all very true about the garden and the honeysuckle; but they
are most egregiously wrong as to the principle: And when they
talk of these Moravians as the most rational of missionaries, because they furnish their converts with the arts and the comforts of
life, before they ever think of pressing upon them the mysteries
of their faith, they make a most glaring departure from the truth,
and that too in the face of information and testimony afforded by
the very men whom they profess to admire. It is not true that
Moravians are distinguished from other missionaries by training
their disciples to justice, and morality, and labor, in the first
instance; and by refraining to exhort to faith and self-abasement.
It is not true nor does it consist with the practice of the Moravians, that, in regard to savages, some advance towards civilization
is necessary, preparatory to any attempt to christianize them.
This attempt is made at the very outset; and should they meet
with a fellow-creature in the lowest state of uncultivation, it is
enough for them that he is a man; nor do they wait the issue of
any preparation whatever previously to laying before him the will
of God for the salvation of mankind. The degree of cultivation,
it would appear, is a thing merely accidental. It has too slender
an influence upon the result to be admitted into their calculations;
nor does it affect the operation of those great principles which are




ON THE MORAVIANS VIEWED AS MISSIONARIES.              137
concerned in the transition of a human soul out of darkness into
the marvellous light of the Gospel. Why lavish all your admiration upon the sensible effect, while ye shrink in disgust from the
explanation of the principle? Why, ye votaries of science, whose
glory it is to connect phenomena with their causes, why do you
act so superficially in this instance, and leave with the fanatics
whom you despise, all the credit of a manly and unshrinking philosophy? They can tell you all about it, for they were present
at every step of the process; and the most striking development
of the natural enmity ever witnessed, is to be seen in that mixture
of contempt and incredulity, and wonder. with which you listen
to them. One might be amused at observing so much of the pride
of philosophy combined with so glaring a dereliction of all its
principles; but a feeling more serious is awakened when we think
of that which is spoken of in the prophecies of Habakkuk: " I
work a work in your days, a work which ye shall in no wise believe, though a man declare it unto you."-" Behold, ye despisers,
and wonder, and perish!"
Although it is at the hazard of extending this article to a disproportionate length, yet we feel strongly tempted to present another extract from Spangenberg.  It tends to prove that the work
of civilization is altogether subsequent to the work of conversion;
and the attempts of the United Brethren in this way, are among
men whom they had previously reclaimed from heathenism, by
that peculiar method of evangelizing which has been already
insisted on. We shall make no other change in the extract than
to throw into Italics those parts of it which bear most decisively
upon the argument in question.
"' It is likewise a concern of the brethren, that have the care of the heathen,
to bring those that are converted to our Saviour into good order outwardly. We
have found in most places where brethren dwell among the heathen, that the
latter go on without much care or thinking. Were they with suitable consideration to regulate their matters duly, to take care and manage what Providence gives to them, they would not so often be driven to the utmost distress.
But instead of that, they are idle when they should labor, and when they have
anything to eat they will squander it in an extravagant manner; and afterward they are miserably distressed for want of food, and tormented by the cares
of this life.," But when they are baptized, the brethren advise them to a regular labor, e.
g. to plant in due season, to hunt, to fish, an(l to do everything needful: they
also learn of the brethren how to keep and preserve what they may get for the
winter. And being incapable of making a proper calculation, (for they have
no almanacs,) and to regulate themselves according to the seasons, the brethren
also assist them in this respect. I will illustrate this by an instance or two.
Dried herrings are of great use to the Greenlanders in winter for their subsistence; but when they grow wet they are spoiled. To obviate this the brethren
not only encourage the Greenlanders to be diligent in catching herrings at the
proper season, but also to dry them well, and assist them in preserving them
dry. If the brethren are among the Indians, they endeavor to get them to
clear their fields at the right time, to surround them with hedges, plant them
with Indian wheat, and to cut it down in a proper manner; thus a difference is
18




1 38      ON THE MORAVINNS VIEWED AS MISSIONARIES.
very perceptible between their people and other Indians, for if those Indians
who have neglected planting suffer hunger, the others have always so much as
to be able to spare a part of it to them.
" Various things occasionally occur which must be brought into order among
the heathen that are converted to Christ. If (e. g.) a provider dies in Greenland, (thus they call the head of the family,) the widow and her orphans are
worse off than any one can imagine. Or if a husband loses his wife, and she
has left a small child that still wants the mother's breast, he is as badly off, for
it is very difficult to get a Greenland woman to suckle any child but her own.
Hence it is that those Greenlanders that are yet heathen, and live among
heathen, find themselves obliged at times to bury such a motherless infant
alive. Now if the case occurs that the wife of a husband dies, leaving a sucking child behind, the brethren do not rest till they find a person that will take
care of the little orphan, and give it suck with her own child. If the husband
dies they divide the orphans, and take care to have them properly educated,
and likewise that the widow may be supplied with the necessaries of life. In
sickness, likewise, which happens among the heathen, the brethren are obliged
frequently to take care of their people.
" There are indeed some people among the heathen that know good reme..
dies for various disorders, and for this reason they are made use of by others.
Among the Indians in North America, there are (e. g.) people who successfully cure the bite of serpents, and to whom the neighboring Europeans have
recourse in such cases. Also among the negroes in the West Indies are skilful
and experienced persons, to whom others apply in their diseases. But these
heathenish doctors are jugglers, and generally affect to show they cure the sick
by magic. Therefore believers from among the heathen, when sick, consult
their teachers, and often apply with success such remedies as they have for
their own use.," Moreover, divers misfortunes that occur in the congregations among the
heathen, reduce the brethren to the necessity of taking care of them also, in
respect to their outward concerns. There was (e. g.) a congregation of Indians at Chekameka in the district of NewYork, which had formerly, in a fit of
intoxication, and while they were still heathen, sold the right to their land for
a trifle, and when, afterward, they became converted, occasion was taken from
this to drive them out of their country. Most of these people took refuge with
the brethren at Bethlehem in Pennsylvania, and were, with the consent of the
governor of Pennsylvania, received and treated in a brotherly and hospitable
manner.  A piece of land was purchased for them on the Mahoni, which
answered the purpose of hunting as well as for the cultivation of their corn,
and they were assisted by the brethren in building, and in the management of
their outward matters.
", The same thing happened with other Indians, who were obliged to quit
the land they had sold at Wechquatnach.," The Indian congregation at Meniolagomekah experienced the same fate,
and the brethren could not forbear lending them a helping hand in such circumstances, and caring for their support.
1" In the year 1755, the brethren who lived with the Indian congregation at
the Mahoni, were surprised at the beginning of the night, by those Indians who
had taken up the hatchet against the English (that is, according to their language, had begun the war). They killed eleven of the brethren, dispersed the
whole congregation, and laid the whole place in ashes. But the brethren sought
again for the scattered sheep, took them to Bethlehem, where they provided
for them, and took the same care of their souls as they had done before."
(Spangenberg, ~ 69-71.)
We have one remark more to offer on this part of the subject.
Had the missionary system of the United Brethren attracted, fifty




ON THE MORAVIANS VIEWED AS MISSIONARIES.        139
years ago, the attention of the same men of general literature,
who are now so eloquent in its praises, it is evident that it could
not have achieved their homage, nor excited their sympathy. At
that early period of their labors, they had not the same commanding spectacle to offer as the result of their missionary labors.
Sufficient time had not elapsed for the full effect and development
of their principles; but they were busy at work with the principles themselves. They were preaching, and praying, and putting
into action, the weapons of their spiritual ministry; and had the
fastidious admirer of neat and interesting villages, taken a look at
thein during the earlier years of their missionary enterprise, he
would have nauseated the whole precedure as the effect of mean
revolting fanaticism. Now let it not be forgotten that what the
Moravians were then, some of the later class of missionaries are
at this moment. They have positively not had time for the production of the same striking and numerous results; but they are
very busy and very promising in that line of operation which
leads to them. To be an admirer of the result is a very different thing from being an admirer of the operation.  To be the one,
all that is necessary is a taste for what is wonderful, or what is
pleasing; and what can be more wonderful, and, at the same time,
more pleasing, than a group of Hottentot families reclaimed from
the barbarism of their race, and living under obedient control to
the charities an4 decencies of the Gospel?  But that a person
may become an admirer of the operation, he must approve the
faith; he must be influenced by a love of the Lord Jesus Christ;
he must have a belief in the efficacy of prayer; he must have a
relish for that which a majority, we fear, of professing Christians would stamp with the brand of enthusiasm; in a word, hi;s
natural enmity to the things of God must be beginning to give
way, and he be an admirer of the truth in all its unction and in
all its simplicity.  Let not, therefore, the later missionaries be
mortified at the way in which they have been contrasted with the
Moravians. They are just passing through the very ordeal through
which these worthy men passed before them. It is a trial of their
faith, and of their patience; and if they keep the same steadfastness, to the simplicity that is in Christ; if they maintain the same
enduring dependence upon God; if they resist the infection of a
worldly spirit, with the same purity of heart which has ever
marlred the United Brethren, and preserve themselves through all
the varieties of disappointment and success as free from the temptations of vain glory, or bitterness, or emulation; then may they
look forward to the day when they shall compel the silence of
gainsayers by exhibitions equally wonderful and promising.
The United Brethren failed in their first attempt to settle on
the coast of Labrador, in 1752; nor did they renew their attempt
till an offer was made by Jens Haven, in 1764, to go out as a missionary to that country. He had been for some years a mission



140      ON THE MORAVIANS VIEWED AS MISSIONARIES.
ary in Greenland; and from the strong affinity between the two
languages, he was able to make himself understood by the Esquimaux. This secured him a degree of acceptance among that
barbarous people, which was never before experienced by any
European; a circumstance highly agreeable to Sir Hugh Palliser,
at that time Governor of Newfoundland, and which obtained for
the missionary, the countenance of the Board of Trade and Plantations.
It was found necessary, however, to defer the missionary work
for some years, till Mikak, an Esquimaux woman, was brought to
London, and attracted the same kind of notice among people of
rank and influence in the metropolis, that was afterwards excited
by the appearance of the well-known Otaheitean in this country.
She here met with Jens Haven, and earnestly solicited his protection for her poor countrymen, many of whom had been slaughtered in a late affray with the English. She was of great use in
advancing the business of the mission; and a grant was at length
obtained from the Privy Council, by which the Brethren's Society
for the furtherance of the Gospel, obtained permission from the
King and his Ministers, to make settlements on the coast of Labrador, and to preach the Gospel to the Esquimaux.
Under cover of this permission, Haven, accompanied with
others, sailed for the coast of Labrador, purchased land from the
Esquimaux, and in 1771, was busied in the erection of various
conveniences for a settlement at Nain, where they were suffered
to reside without disturbance from the natives who visited them.
In 1776, they formed another settlement at Okkak, an island, about
150 miles to the northward; and one year after a third settlement at Hopedale, to the south of Okkak, completed the present
list of the Moravian establishments in that country.
In reading their own account of these and similar enterprises,
we cannot avoid being struck with the activity and perseverance
of the missionaries; and the mere philosopher of second causes,
would look upon these, aided as they frequently are by the most
fortunate and unlooked-for conjuncture of circumstances, as sufficient to explain the whole secret of their unexampled success.
But the Moravians are men of prayer. They wrestle with God,
and never let go the engine, of which it has been said, that it
moves Him who moves the universe. Were we to confine ourselves to a mere record of the visible events, we doubt not that
many would receive it as a complete history of their missionary
undertakings. But let us do no such injustice to their own narratives, and to the uniform spirit of piety and dependence which
pervades them. Previously to the grant by the Privy Council,
Jens Haven tells us, that the mission in Labrador was the constant subject of his prayers and meditations, and that with prayer
and supplication he committed himself, and the cause he was to
serve, unto the Lord. In the progress of the business we read




ON THE MORAVIANS VIEWED AS MISSIONARIES.              141
much of his self-examinations and confessions, and of his crying
out unto the Lord for help, and for faith to commit himself and
his cause to Divine protection.  This is a fair specimen of a Moravian missionary; and these are the deep and holy exercises
with which the world cannot sympathize, and which the men of
the world cannot banish altogether from the history of human
affairs. They form the turning point of the machinery, without
which nothing would be accomplished; and they who smile at
the occult influence which lies in a believer's prayer, should be
informed, that to this principle alone do the Moravian preachers
attribute the whole of that sensible effect on which they lavish
all their admiration.
Such has been the success of the Moravians in these three settlements, that, in 1788, the whole number of the baptized, from the
commencement, amounted to one hundred and four, of which sixtythree were then alive; and the actual number of baptized, and
of candidates for baptism, in 1812, was two hundred and ninetytwo. They have translated the Gospels into the Esquimaux language, and are proceeding with the other books of the New Testarnent. They have taught many of the natives to read and to
write. These poor barbarians can now carry on an epistolary
correspondence with the Moravians in this country, and in point
of scholarship, and of civil accomplishment, are farther advanced
than the great mass of the peasantry in England.
The following extracts from their periodical accounts, will give
a more correct exhibition of the spirit and proceedings of the missionaries, than can be done by any description.
", Your kind letter conveys strong proof of your participation in the work of
God among the Esquimaux here, and of your joy at all the good which the Lord
has done for us. You also mention that you join in our prayers that new life
from God would visit our young people. We hope and trust with you that the
Lord will, in his own time, so powerfully awaken them by his grace that they
can no longer resist. With respect to the adults, we have again abundant
cause for thankfulness in reporting what the Lord has done for them in the year
past. The greater part are advancing to a more perfect knowledge of themselves and the power of His grace, and afford thereby a proof to others of the
necessity of conversion. The schools have been attended, during the past winter, not without blessing, to which the books printed in the Esquimaux language,
and sent to us by you, have contributed much. Since the departure of the
ship last year, three persons have been admitted to the Holy Communion, one
adult and three children baptized, and six admitted as candidates for baptism.
Of the Esquimaux belonging to our congregation here, twenty-five are communicants, one of whom is excluded; fourteen baptized adults, of whom two are
excluded; twenty-nine baptized children, and twenty candidates for baptism;
in all eighty-eight persons. We cannot precisely state the number of Esquimaux who dwell on our land, as some of them purpose removing to Okkak, and
one family from the heathen has come to us. The whole number may be about
one hundred and fifty. As the highly respected British and Foreign Bible Society has again intimated their willingness to print part of the Holy Scriptures
in the Esquimaux language, we accept their offer with much gratitude, and
shall send, by the return of the ship, the Gospels according to St. Matthew, St.




142       ON THE MORAVIANS VIEWED AS MISSIONARIES.
Mark, and St. Luke, which our late brother Burghardt was still able to revise,
requesting you, at the-same time, to salute the society most cordially on our
behalf, and to assure them of our great esteem and veneration. They have our
best wishes and prayers, that their exertions may be crowned by the Lord with
abundant success, in the salvation of many thousand human creatures in all
parts of the globe.
"The outward wants of our Esquimaux have been but scantily supplied
during the last winter, as the seal fishing in nets did not succeed, only sixty-six
being taken, and they were able to get but little when they went out on kajaks,
or on the thin ice. It was very providential that the supply of provisions sent
for the Esquimaux by the ship last year, enabled us to relieve their most pressing necessities. The want was severely felt in spring, owing to the long continuance of the cold, with much snow, which prevented the seals from coming
hither till late in the season. The Esquimaux had, consequently, to be supported for a considerable time out of the store, which occasioned us no small
uneasiness, on account of the debts which they unavoidably contracted. Nor
were these circumstances, as may be supposed, without a degree of influence
upon the state of their minds, though we cannot say that they were productive
of abiding detriment. They felt grateful, that by the Lord's mercy they were
preserved from perishing through famine." Per. Acc. United Brethren, No.
lxiv. p. 254
The above is from Nain; the following is from Hopedale.
", Your kind expressions concerning us and our labors filled our hearts with
gratitude. We can assure you, dear Brethren, that the daily mercies of our
Saviour still attend us, both in our external and internal concerns. Poor and
defective as we feel ourselves to be, he has not taken his grace and spirit from
us, but forgiven us all sin, daily and richly supported and helped us in our
labors, comforted us in all distress, preserved us in peace and brotherly love, and
excited in us all an ardent desire to live unto and serve Him with all our hearts.," Several of us have been ailing, but he approved himself our kind physician, and nothing essential has been neglected in the performance of our daily
duties through illness. Constant communion with Him is the source of all spiritual life and strength, and we pray him to lead us more and more into that
blessed track.
"With thanks to Him we are able to say, that the walk of most of our Esquimaux has been such as to give us heartfelt joy. Our Saviour has led them
as the good shepherd in the way of life everlasting, and by his Spirit taught
them to know that without him they can do nothing good. They set a value
upon the word of God, and desire in all respects to live more in conformity to
it. The love of our Saviour towards them excites their wonder, and they
sometimes complain with tears, that they do not love him, and give joy unto
him as they ought for his great mercy vouchsafed unto them. The word of
his cross, sufferings, and death, melts their hearts, and causes them truly to repent of, and abhor sin, which nailed him to the cross, and to mourn and cry for
pardon. Instances of this blessed effect of the doctrine of a crucified Saviour
we have seen in our public meetings, in our private converse with them, and in
the schools. The latter have been kept up with all possible punctuality and
diligence.,"We can declare with truth, that Jesus Christ, our Saviour, has been the
heart's desire of us all, towards whom we wish to press forward, that we may
live to Him and enjoy more of His sweet communion. Notwithstanding all
weakness and deficiency still observable in our small congregation, we have
great reason to rejoice over most of them, especially over the communicants.
The celebration of the Lord's Supper is to them a most important and blessed
transaction. We have re-admitted to it those, whom you may remember last




ON THE MORAVIANS VIEWED AS MISSIONARIES.              143
year to have fallen into foolish and superstitious practices during a time of
sickness and frequent deaths, but who truly repented of their error.
I" We pray for more spiritual life among our youth, in whom we have discovered too many traces of levity.
"' Two adults and two children have been baptized, two girls, baptized as
children, were received into the congregation, three were made partakers of the
Lord's Supper, three became candidates for it, and one a candidate for baptism.
One child died during the year past. At the conclusion of the year our congregation consists of eighty-eight Esquimaux brethren and sisters, of whom
thirty-one are communicants. One hundred and twenty-two persons lived on
our land. We have had no addition from among the heathen, none having resided in our neighborhood.
" To the worthy British and Foreign Bible Society we beg you to present
our most cordial thanks, for the Gospel of St. John in the Esquimaux language,
printed and bound up in the best manner. Our hearts are filled with gratitude
towards them for this most valuable donation, and we pray the Lord richly to
reward them for it, and to cause all their labors of love to succeed, for His
glory and the welfare of mankind. Our people take this little book with them
to the islands when they go out to seek provisions, and in their tents, or snowhouses, spend their evenings in reading it with great edification and blessing.
They often beg us to thank the Society in their name when we write to England.
1" We feel very sensibly the loss of private letters, and of the diaries and
accounts of our congregations and missions by, the stoppage of communication
between England and the Continent. O that the Lord would hold His hand
over our settlements in Germany, since it appears as if they were threatened
by a new war.
" As you approve of the building of a store-house for our Esquimaux, we
shall now take steps to complete that work."-Per. Ac. lxiv. p. 260.
i* Let it be observed, that Okkak, the most northerly of the
three settlements, lies in a latitude little short of 58~ N. and 2j~
to the south of Cape Chudleigh; that on doubling this Cape, the
coast trends S. S. W. as far as to 5810 of N. lat.; that it then
takes a sweep to the northward, and thus forms a bay named, in
the accounts of these missionaries, Ungava bay. The line of the
voyage extends then from Okkak, along the coast of Labrador, to
the Cape Chudleigh Islands, from whence it takes a south and
westerly direction to the bottom of Ungava Bay. They were
induced to undertake it by a statement of the Esquimaux visitors,
who occasionally repaired to the establishments already formed,
and reported that the main body of this nation lived near and beyond Cape Chudleigh. In addition to these accounts they received the most earnest applications to form a new settlement to
the northward, applications to which they felt themselves the more
inclined to listen, as the country around their present establishments was very thinly inhabited, and it appeared that the
aim of the mission, to convert the Esquimaux to Christianity,
would be much better obtained, if access could be had to the main
body of the Indians, from which the roving inhabitants appeared
to be mere stragglers.
Having obtained the consent of their superiors in Europe, a company was formed for the voyage, under the superintendence of
* The work reviewed in my paper was the "Journal of a Voyage from Okkak."




144       ON THE MORAVIANS VIEWED AS MISSIONARIES.
Brother Kohlmeister, who was eminently qualified for the charge,
by a residence of seventeen years in Labrador, during which time
he had acquired an accurate knowledge of the Esquimaux language, and was deservedly respected and beloved both by Christians and heathens. Brother Kmock accompanied him in the voyage, and their crew consisted of four Esquimaux families belonging to Hopedale. Having commended themselves in prayer to
the grace and protecting care of God, their Saviour, and to the
kind remembrance of their dear fellow missionaries, they set sail
from Okkak, in a large decked boat, on the 24th ef June, 1811.
In their progress they met with many interruptions from large
fields of ice, which often presented a threatening appearance.
They kept in general close to the shore, and had to work their
way through numerous straits, formed by the small islands which
lie scattered along the coast in great numbers, sometimes sleeping
on board, and at others, pitching their tent on shore. They often
met with very wild and singular exhibitions of scenery; and the
Moravians, ever observant of all that is interesting in the appearances of nature, do not fail to gratify the reader by their description of them. The following is a specimen of the notice they take
of these things, and the way in which they record them.', June 25th.-We rose soon after two o'clock, and rowed out of the Ikkerasak with a fair wind. The sea was perfectly calm and smooth. Brother
Kmock rowed in the small boat along the foot of the mountains of Kammayok,
sometimes going on shore while the large boat was making but little way,
keeping out at some distance to avoid the rocks. The outline of this chain of
mountains exhibits the most fanciful figures. At various points the rocks descend abruptly into the sea, presenting horrid precipices. The strand is covered
with a black sand. At the height of about fifty feet from the sea, the rocks
have veins of red, yellow, and green stone, running horrizontally and parallel,
and sometimes in an undulated form. Above these they present the appearance of a magnificent colonnade, or rather of buttresses, supporting a gothic
building varying in height and thickness, and here and there intersected by wide
and deep chasms and glens running far inland between the mountains. Loose
stones above have in some places the appearance of statues, and the superior
region exhibits various kinds of grotesque shapes. It is by far the most singular and picturesque chain of mountains on this coast. To the highest part of it
we gave the name of St. Paul's, as it is not unlike that cathedral when viewed
at a distance, with its dome and two towers."-p. 14.
On the day following they met with some of the believing Esquimaux, who were on their summer excursion, at which time
they have many opportunities of mingling with the unconverted of
their own nation. It refreshes our hearts to hear, that the wilds
of a savage country exhibit a scene so soothing as that which
these worthy men realized upon this occasion.
" The number of the congregation, including our boat's company, amounted
to about fifty. Brother Kohlmeister first addressed them by greeting them from
their brethren at Okkak, and expressing our joy at finding them well in health,
and our hopes that they were all walking worthy of their christian profession,




ON THE MORAVIANS VIEWED AS MISSIONARIES.             145
as a good example to'their heathen neighbors. Then the Litany was read, and
a spirit of true devotion pervaded the whole assembly.
" Our very hearts rejoiced in this place, which had but lately been a den of
murderers, dedicated, as it were, by the angekoks, or sorcerers, to the service
of the devil, to hear the cheerful voices of converted heathen most melodiously
sounding forth the praises of God, and giving gkory to the name of Jesus, their
Redeemer. Peace and cheerful countenances dwelt in the tents of the believing Esquimaux."-p. 16.
What else is it than the spreading of this moral cultivation
over the vast and dreary extent of that pagan wilderness, which
is everywhere around us, that can lead to the accomplishment of
the following prophecies?  "Israel shall blossom  and bud and
fill the face of the world with fruit."  " The wilderness and solitary place shall be glad for them, and the desert shall rejoice and
blossom  as the rose."  "In the wilderness shall waters break
out, and streams in the desert, and the parched ground shall become a pool, and the thirsty land springs of water. In the habitation of dragons where each lay, shall be grass with reeds and
rushes."
They were detained from the 3d to the 15th of July, in Nullatartok bay, by the quantity of drift ice which set in upon the coast.
This gave them time for exploring the neighborhood; and these
observant men neglect nothing in their power that can be turned
to useful information for future travellers. They make minutes
of the bays, points, and islands, with which they are made acquainted by the natives. They record the face of the country,
and the appearance of its mineralogical productions. They take
great interest in relating the manners and peculiar practices of
the people. They make collections of plants, and are amused
with the examination of them. In a word, they notice all and record all, which can give interest to the narrative of an accomplished traveller; and the only additions which they graft upon
all this, are a constant recognition of God, and an eye steadily
fixed on his glory. Can it be this which has so long repelled the
attention of worldly men from their labors and enterprises? which
made their good be evil spoken of'? and which, till within these
few years, restrained them from offering to the public a mass of
solid information that has now perished from the memory, and
cannot be recalled?
The following is a specimen of the manner in which they mingle the business of piety, with the business of ordinary travellers.
", Perceiving that our abode in this place might be of some duration, we for
the first time pitched our tents on shore. Our morning and evening devotion
was attended by the whole party, and on Sundays we read the Litany and
conducted the service in the usual way, which proved to us and our Esquimaux,
of great comfort and encouragement in all difficulties.  We were detained
here by the ice from the 3d to the 15th, and our faith and patience were frequently put to the trial. Meanwhile we found much pleasure in walking up
the acclivities of the hills and into the fine green and flowery valleys around us.'
-p. 22.
19




146       ON THE MORAVIANS VIEWED AS MISSIONARIES.
"6th.-In the evening we met in Jonathan's tent. Brbther Kohlmeister addressed the company, and reminded them that to-day the holy communion
would be celebrated in our congregations, which we could not do in this place
under present circumstances. Then, kneeling down, he offered up a fervent
prayer, entreating the Lord not to forget us in this wilderness, but to give us tu
feel His all-reviving presence, and to feed our hungry and thirsty souls out of
the fulness of his grace. A comfortable sense of His love and peace, filled all
our hearts on this occasion.''
On the 16th, they advanced to Nachvak, and the scene of
magnificence which opened upon them here, is well described by
our travellers.,, 16th.-The view we had of the magnificent mountains of Nachvalk, especially about sunrise, afforded us and our Esquimaux great gratification. Their
south-east extremity much resembles Saddle island, near Okkak, being high,
steep, and of singular shape. These mountains in general are not unlike those
of Kanmayok for picturesque outline.  In one place tremendous precipices
form a vast amphitheatre, surmounted by a ledge of green sod, which seemed
to be the resort of an immense number of sea-gulls and other fowls never interrupted by the intrusion of man. They flew with loud screams backwards
and forwards over our heads, as if to warn off such unwelcome visitors. In
another place a narrow chasm opens into the mountain widening into a lagoon,
the surrounding rocks resembling the ruins of a large gothic building, with the
green ocean for its pavement, and the sky for its dome. The weather being fine,
and the sun cheering us with his bright rays, after a cold and sleepless night,
we seemed to acquire new vigor by the contemplation of the grand features of
nature around us. We now perceived some Esquimaux with a woman's boat
in a small bay, preparing to steer for Nachvak. They fired their pieces, and
called to us to join them, as they had discovered a stranded whale. Going on
shore to survey the remains of this huge animal, we found it by no means a
pleasant sight. It lay upon the rocks, occupying a space thirty feet in diameter, but was much shattered, and in a decaying state. Our people, howevercut off a quantity of blubber from its lips. The greater part of the blubber of,
this fish was lost, as the Esquimaux had no means of conveying it to Okkak."
—. 26.
The following description of the manner in which the Esquimaux catch salmon-trout, is, we believe, a novelty.
" The Esquimaux about Okkak and Saeglek, catch them in winter under the
ice by spearing. For this purpose they make two holes in the ice about eight
inches in diameter, and six feet asunder in a direction from north to south. The
northern hole they screen from the sun by a bank of snow about four feet in
height, raised in a semi-circle round its southern edge, and form another similar
bank on the north side of the southern hole, sloped in such a manner as to reflect the rays of the sun into it. The Esquimaux then lies down with his face
close to the northern aperture, beneath which the water is strongly illuminated
by the sunbeams entering at the southern. In his left hand he holds a red
string, witfh which he plays in the water, to allure the fish, and in his right a
spear, ready to strike them as they approach. In this manner they soon take
as many as they want."-p. 28.
At Nachvak they had frequent opportunities of converse with
the natives, and we know of no question more interesting than
that which proposes the consideration of the best method of ad



ON THE MORAVIANS VIEWED AS MISSIONARIES.              147
dressing Christianity to the minds of men totally unfurnished
with any preparatory conceptions upon the subject. On other
subjects of inquiry, the rashness of the theorizing spirit is exploded,
and all speculation is made to vanish before the evidence of experiment. To the- evidence on this question the Moravians are
making daily additions: And the whole history of their proceedings bears testimony to the fact, that the Gospel is never preached
in power but when it is preached in simplicity; that the refinements of men do but enfeeble the impression of it; and that the
word of truth, as it carn  pure from  the mouth of Christ, and of
His apostles, may be a dressed to savages at the very lowest
degree in the scale of civilization. When taken in connection
with this principle, we look upon the first meeting of a Christian
missionary with savages, as a circumstance possessing a higher
interest than any other thing that can be recorded of the intercourse of man with man; and the interest is considerably heightened, when, instead of the accomplished missionary, it is the Christianized heathen, who has himself lately experienced the love of
the truth, and is become subject to its power, that addresses the
words of salvation to the unawakened among his own countrymen. The following is a specimen.
"' They (the natives) received the discourses and exhortations of the missionary with reverential attention, but those of their own countrymen with still
greater eagerness, and we hope not without benefit. Jonas once addressed
them thus: —' We were but lately as ignorant as you are now: we were long
unable to understand the comfortable words of the Gospel: we had neither
ears to hear, nor hearts to receive them, till Jesus by His power opened our
hearts and ears. Now we know what Jesus has done for us, and how great the
happiness of those souls is, who come unto Him, who love Him as their
Saviour, and know that they shall not be lost when this life is past. Without
this we live in constant fear of death. You will enjoy the same happiness if
you turn to and believe in Jesus. We are not surprised that you do not yet
understand us. We were once like you, but now thank Jesus our Redeemer,
with tears of joy, that He has revealed Himself unto us.' Thus, with cheerful
countenances and great energy, did these Christian Esquimaux praise and
glorify the name of Christ our Saviour, and declare what He had done for their
souls, exhorting the heathen likewise to believe.
" The above address seemed to make a deep impression on the minds of all
present. One of their leaders or captains exclaimed with great eagerness in
presence of them all,-' I am determined to be converted to Jesus.' His name
is Onalik.  He afterwards called upon Brother Kohlmeister, and inquired
whether it was the same to which of the three settlements he removed, as it
was his firm determination to become a true believer. Brother Koh]neister
answered, that it was indifferent where he lived, if he were onlv converted,
and became a child of God, and an heir of life eternal. Another named Fullugaksoak made the same declaration, and added that he would no longer live
among the heathen.," Though the very fickle disposition of the heathen Esquimaux might cause
some doubts to arise in our minds as to their putting these good -:esolutions into
practice, yet we hope that the seed of the word of God, sown in this place,
may not have altogether fallen upon barren ground."-p. 30.




148       ON THE MORAVIANS VIEWED AS MISSIONARIES.
In their progress northward to Cape Chudleigh, they fall in
with other parties of the natives; and on the 22d of July we
have the following description of an Esquimaux feast, at which
the missionary himself addressed the heathen.
"22d.-The contrary wind forbidding our departure, Brother Kohlmeister;
accompanied by Jonathan Jonas, and Kukekina, walked across the country to
the N. W. bay, to return their visit. When they saw them coming at; a distance, they fired their pieces to direct them to the tents, and came joyfully to
meet the missionary and his party. Nothing could exceed the cordiality with
which they received them. A kettle was immediaely put on the fire to cook salmon-trout, and all were invited to partake, whichWas the more readily accepted,
as the length of the walk had created an appetite, the keenness of which overcame all squeamishness. To do these good people justice, their kettle was
rather cleaner than usual, the dogs having licked it well., and the fish was fresh
and well dressed. To honor the missionary, a box was placed for him to sit
upon, and the fish were served up to each upon a flat stone instead of a plate.
After dinner, Brother Kohlmeister, in acknowledgment for their civility, gave
to each of the women two needles, and a small portion of tobacco to each man,
with which they were highly delighted.
" All of them being seated, a very lively and unreserved conversation took
place, concerning the only way of salvation through Jesus Christ, and the necessity of conversion. With John and his mother Mary, Brother Kohlmeister
spoke very seriously, and represented to them the danger of their state as apostates from the faith, but they seem blinded by Satan, and determined to persist in their heathenish life. The Esquimaux now offered to convey the party
across the bay in their skin-boat, which was accepted. Almost all of them accompanied the boat, and met with a very friendly reception from our boat's
company. In the evening, after some hymns had been sung by our people,
Jonas addressed them and the heathen Esquimaux, in a short nervous discourse
on the blessedness of being reconciled unto God.'" Kummaktorvik bay runs N. E. -and S. W., and is defended by some islands
from the sea. It is about four or five miles long, and surroeunded by high
mountains, with some pleasant plains at their foot covered with verdure. Its
distance from Nachvak is about twelve miles. This chain of mountains, as
will be hereafter mentioned, may be seen from Kangertlualulisoak, in Ungava
bay, which is a collateral proof that the neck of land terminated to the N. by
Cape Chudleigh, is of no great width. Both the Nain and Okkak Esquimaux
frequently penetrate far enough inland to find the rivers taking a westerly direction, consequently towards the Ungava country. They even now and then
have reached the woods skirtingethe estuaries of George and South rivers."1). 35.
On the 2d of August, they passed a strait among the islands
of Cape Chudleigh, when the coast takes a S. S. W. direction.
At this place the tides rise to an uncommon height. The coast
_s low, with gently sloping hills, and the country looks pleasant,
with many berry-bearing plants and bushes. It is from this point
of the voyage, that they seem to enter upon new ground, for at a
very great distance to the N. W. they descried a large island
named Akpatok, which, according to the statement of the Esquimaux, incloses the whole gulf or bay towards the sea, consists
of high land, and is connected to the western continent at low
water by an isthmus. Now it is the North coast of this island




ON THE MORAVIANS VIEWE'D AS MISSIONARIES.               149
which appears to be the line laid down in maps and charts as the
coast of America to the south of Hudson's Straits.  So that a
large inland  bay, separating the district of Ungava, from  the
island of Akpatok, and which, from  the map accompanying this
account, is made to extend from W. longitude 650 45' to 70~, and
from  N. latitude 600 15' to about 58~, appears to be an expanse
of water wholly unnoticed by former navigators. At the bottom
of this bay lies the Ungava country, and our party, in their progress towards it, had intercourse with the natives on the coast.
Our missionary took an early occasion to make known his object
in visiting them.
", Brother Kohlmeister visited the people in their tents. They were about
fifty in number, men women, and children. He informed them that nothing
could induce the missionaries to come into this country but love to the poor
heathen, and an ardent desire to make them acquainted with their Creator and
Redeemer, that through Him they might attain to happiness in time and
eternity. Some seemed to listen with attention, but the greater part understood nothing of what was said. This of course did not surprise us, as most.
of them were quite ignorant heathen, who had never before seen a European.
They, however, raised a shout of joy, when we inlformed them that we would
come and visit them in their own country. Many were not satisfied with viewing us on every side with marks of great astonishment, but came close up to us
and pawed us all over. At taking leave we presented them with a few trifles,
which excited among them the greatest pleasure and thankfulness."-p. 47.
A few days afterwards we have the following specimen of the
tides in this bay.
", 7th. —On rising, to our great surprise, we found ourselves left by the tide
in a shallow pool of water surrounded by rocky hills, nor could we at all discover the situation of our skin-boat, till after the water had begun to rise, and
raised us above the banks of our watery dungeon, when with great astonishnent, not having been able to find it on the surface of the sea, and accidentally
directing our eyes upwards, we saw it perched upon the top of a considerable
eminence, and apparently on shore. We then landed, and ascending a rising
ground, beheld with some terror, the wonderful changes occasioned by the
tides. Our course was visible to the extent of two or three English miles, but
the sea had left it, and we were obliged to remain in this dismal place till about
noon before the water hadl risen sufficiently to carry us out. We now began
to entertain fears lest we might not always be able to find proper harbors so
as to avoid being left high and dry at low water, for having anchored in nine
fathoms last night, we were left in one and a half this morning.  Uttakiyok
and Kukekina were with us on shore. The eminence on which we stood was
overgrown with vaccinia and other plants, and we saw among them marks of
its being visited by hares. Near the summit was a spot covered by red sand
which stained one's fingers, and among it were fragments of a substance resembling cast iron. We seemed here to stand ou a peninsula connected by an
isthmus with another island, or with the continent, but probably at high water
it may be a separate island."-p. 51.
In a few days they reached Kangertlualuksoak Bay, to which
they gave the name of George river, after having formally taken
possession of the country in the name of George III., whom they
designate the Great 5MIonarch of all those territories, in their ex



150       ON THE MORAVIANS VIEWED AS MISSIONARIES.
planation to the natives of a tablet solemnly raised in commemoration of this voyage. We do not see the necessity of this transaction, and confess that our feelings of justice somewhat revolted
at it.  How George III. should be the rightful monarch of a territory whose inhabitants never saw a European before, is something more than we can understand. We trust that the marauding policy of other times, is now gone by; and that the transaction in question is nothing more than an idle ceremony. At all
events we do think that our worthy missionaries have, in this instance, made an unwitting departure from the character which
belongs to them; and we implore them, as they value the approbation of all right-minded Christians, to keep by the simplicity of
their one object, and never to venture one single footstep on the
dubious ground of this world's politics. The following simple adventure is infinitely more in accordance with our minds.
", After dining on part of the venison, we returned to the great boat. On
the passage we thought we perceived, at a considerable distance, a black bear,
and Uttakiyok, elated with his recent success, hoped to gain new laurels. He
entered his kayak, and proceded as cautiously as possible along the shore
towards the spot, landed, climbed the hill so as not to be observed, but when he
had just got within gun-shot, perceived that his bear was a black stone. This
adventure furnished the company with merriment for the remainder of the
voyage to the boat."-p. 57.
They determined upon the mouth of George river as a suitable
place for a settlement.,, 12th.-Having finished reconnoitring the neighborhood, and gathered all
the information concerning it which our means would admit, and likewise fixed
upon the green slope or terrace above described as the most suitable place for
a settlement, on account of the abundance of wood in its neighborhood, we
made preparations to proceed. Uttakiyok, who had spent more than one winter
in the Ungava country, assured us that there was here an ample supply of provisions both in summer and winter, which Jonathan also credited from his
own observation. The former likewise expressed himself convinced that if we
would form a settlement here, many Esquimaux would come to us from all
parts. We ourselves were satisfied that Europeans might find the means of
existence in this place, as it was accessible for ships, and had wood and water
in plenty. As for Esquimaux, there appeared no want of those things upon
which they live, the sea abounding with white fish, seals, sea-fowl, &c., and
the land with reindeer, hares, bears, and other animals. The people from Killinek declared their intention of removing hither, if we would come and dwell
among them, and are even now in the habit of visiting this place every summer. Our own company even expressed a wish to spend the winter here."p. 57.
The season was now far advanced, and the danger of being
overtaken by winter before they completed their return to Okkak,
began to press upon them. But they had not yet got to the bottom of the bay which they had fixed upon as the final object of
their voyage. The courage of their party was beginning to fail,
and the missionaries themselves were in no small degree of per.




ON THE MORAVIANS VIEWED AS MISSIONARIES.              151
plexity. In this situation of difficulty, ordinary travellers would
sit down to the work of calculation, and so did they; they would
weigh reasons and probabilities, and so did they; they would
gather information from the natives, and exercise their judgment
upon it, and advise earnestly with one another, and so too did
these humble missionaries. But there was still one other expedient
which they resorted to, and in the instance before us, it helped
them out of their difficulties. This expedient was prayer. They
laid the matter before God, and He answered them. This, we
imagine, is what ordinary travellers seldom think of doing; what
the men of an infidel world would call fanaticism; but if there be
any truth in the word of God, it is the likeliest method of obtaining counsel and direction under all our embarrassments.  "If any
of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him. But let
him ask in faith, nothing wavering." Their account of this matter is too interesting to be omitted.
" 19th.-In the morning we met in our tent, where we were safe from the
intrusion of the Esquimaux, to confer together upon this most important subject. We weighed all the circumstances'connected with it maturely and impartially as in the presence of God, and not being able to come to any decision,
where reasons for and against the question seemed to hold such an even balance,
we determined to commit our case to Him who hath promised that " if two of
His people shall agree on earth as touching anything that they shall ask, it
shall be done for them;" (Matt. xviii. 19;) and kneeling down, entreated Him to
hear our prayers and supplications, in this our distressed and embarrassing situation, and to make known to us His will concerning our future proceedings,
whether we should persevere in fulfilling the whole aim of our voyage, or, prevented by circumstances, give up a part and return home from this place.
"' The peace of God which filled our hearts on this memorable occasion, and
the strong conviction wrought in us, both that we should persevere in His name
to fulfil the whole of our commission, relying without fear on his help and preservation, no words can describe; but those who believe in the fulfilment of the
gracious promises of Jesus, given to his poor followers and disciples, will understand us when we declare that we were assured that it was the will of God
our Saviour that we should not now return and leave our work unfinished, but
proceed to the end of our proposed voyage. Each of us communicated to his
brother the conviction of his heart, all fears and doubts vanished, and we were
filled anew with courage and willingness to act in obedience to it in the strength
of the Lord. 0, that all men knew the comfort and happiness of a mind devoted unto, and firmly trusting in God in all things." —p. 64.
On the 25th of August, they reached the termination of their
voyage, and sailed up the river Koksoak, which discharges its
waters into the bottom of Ungava bay. The estuary of Koksoak
or South river, lies in N. latitude 58~ 36'. It is as broad as the
Thames at Gravesend, and bears a great resemblance to that river
in its windings for twenty-four miles upwards. It is distant by
sea from Okkak between 600 and 700 miles, and Cape Chudleigh
is about half way. They were soon descried by the natives, who
shouted them a rapturous welcome. Upon hoisting their colors.
they were incessantly hailed by the inhabitants. There was a




152       ON THE MORAVIANS VIEWED AS MISSIONARIES.
general cry of Europeans! Europeans! from the men in the kayaks, who, by all manner of gesticulations, expressed their pleasure,
brandishing their oars, and shouting continually as they rowed
alongside the boat. The women on shore answered with loud acclamnations.
They were not long in acquainting the natives with the cause
of their voyage, and it is delightful to observe the advantage they
possessed in the zeal of their coadjutors among the converted Esquimaux, whom  they brought along with them.  Jonathan and
Jonas conversed with them about the concerns of their immortal
souls, declaring to them the love of God our Saviour towards
them; and Sybilla, Jonathan's wife, was met with seated among
a company of women, and exhorting them with great simplicity
and fervor, to hear and believe the Gospel. On this subject we
shall present only one extract more from the work before us.
" 30th.-Our people, and with them the strange Esquimaux, met for public
worship. Brother Kohlmeister once more explained to them our intention in
coming thus far to visit them. He addressed them to the following effect:-' That already, many years ago, many excellent people, in the country beyond
the great ocean, had thought of thelp with much love, and felt desirous that
the inhabitants of the Ungava country also might hear the comfortable word of
God, and be instructed in it, for they had heard that the Esquimaux here were
heathen, who through ignorance served the Torngak, or evil spirit, and were
led by him into the commission of all manner of sin; that they might hereafter
be lost, and go to the place of eternal darkness and misery. Out of love therefore,' continued the missionary,'they have sent us to you, and out of love we
have come to you to tell you how you may be saved, and become happy,
peaceful children of God, being delivered from the fear of death which is now
upon you all, and have the prospect of everlasting peace and joy hereafter,
even by receiving the Gospel, and turning to Jesus who is the only Creator and
Saviour of all men. He died for your sins, for our sins, and for the sins of all
mankind, as our surety, suffering the punishment we deserved, that you, by receiving Him, and believing on Him, might be saved, and not go to the place
of eternal darkness and pain, but to the place of bliss and eternal rest. You
cannot yet understand these comfortable words of the Gospel; but if it is your
sincere wish to know the truth of them, Jesus will open your ears and hearts,
to hear and understand them. These my companions were as ignorant as you,
but they now thank God that they know Jesus as their Saviour, and are assured that through His death they shall inherit everlasting life.'
"' During this address all were silent and very attentive. Some exclaimed,' O! we desire to hear more about it.' Old Netsiak from Eivektok said' I am
indeed old, but if you come to live here, I will certainly remove hither also,
and live with you and be converted.'
"When we put the question to them. whether they were willing that we
should come and dwell with them and instruct them, they all answered, with a
loud and cheerful voice,' Kaititse tok! IKaititse tok! O! do come soon and
live with us, we will all gladly be converted, and live with you.' Jonathan
and Jonas also bore ample testimony to the truth of what we had spoken, and
their words seemed to make a deep impression on all their countrymen. Uttakiyok was above others eager to express his wish that we might soon make a settlement in the Ungava country. Five of the fourteen families who mean to
reside here next winter are from Eivektok." —p. 75.
On the first of September, they took their leave of South river,




ON THE MORAVIANS VIEWED AS MISSIONARIES.        153
not without every expression of regret and attachment from the
natives, who, with a generous benevolence not to be surpassed in
the refined countries of Europe, called after them,' Come soon
again, we shall always be wishing for you.' Their homeward
voyage was more quick and prosperous: and on the 4th of October, they reached Okkak, after having performed a distance of
from 1200 to 1300 miles.
The Moravian style, throughout the whole of their narrations,
is lucid and perspicuous; replete with the phraseology of Scripture. It has a certain air of' sweetness and gentleness about it,
which harmonizes with all our other associations which regard
this interesting people. With all their piety they mingle a very
lively interest in the topics of ordinary travellers; and as the single aim of all their descriptions is to be faithful, they often succeed in a clear and impressive definition of the object which they
wish to impress upon the imagination of the reader. This applies
in particular to their sketches of' scenery described in language
unclouded by ostentation, and singularly appropriate to the subject of which they are treating. There is not the most distant
attempt at fine writing. But if the public attention were more
strongly directed to the productions of the United Brethren, and if
the effect which lies in the simplicity of their faithful and accurate
descriptions were to become the subject of more frequent observation, we should not think it strange that their manner should become fashionable, and that something like a classical homage
should at length be rendered to the purity of the Moravian style.
*However this be, it is high time that the curiosity of the public
were more powerfully directed to the solid realities with which
these wonderful men have been so long conversant. It is now a
century since they have had intercour'se with men in the infancy
of civilization. During that time, they have been laboring in all
the different quarters of the world, and have succeeded in reclaiming many a wild region to Christianity. One of their principles
in carrying on the business of missions, is, not to interfere with
other men's labors; and thus it is that one so often meets with
them among the outskirts of the species, making glad some solitary place, and raising a sweet vineyard in some remote and unfrequented wilderness. It may give some idea of the extent of
their operations, to state that, by the last accounts,* there are
27,400 human beings converts to the Christian faith, and under
MIoravian discipline, who but for them would at this moment have
been still living in all the darkness of Paganism! Surely when
the Christian public are made to know that these men are at this
moment struggling with embarrassments, they will turn the stream
of their benevolence to an object so worthy of it, nor suffer missionaries of such tried prioficiency and success, to abandon a single
establishment for want of fiunds to support it.
~ In 1815.
20




154     ON THE MORAVIANS VIEWED AS MISSIONARIES.
But apart from the missionary cause altogether, is not the solid
information they are accumulating every year, respecting unknown
countries, and the people who live in them, of a kind highly interesting to the taste and the pursuits of merely secular men? Now
much of this information has been kept back for want of encouragement. The public did not take that interest in their proceedings, which could warrant the expectation of a sale for a printed
narrative of many facts and occurrences, which have now vanished from all earthly remembrance. It is true, we have Crantz's
History of Greenland; and we appeal to this book as an evidence
of what we have lost by so many of their missionary journals being suffered to lie in manuscript, among the few of their own
brotherhood who had access to them. We guess that much may
yet be gathered out of their archives, and much from the recollection of the older missionaries. Had it not been for the inquiries
of that respected individual, Mr. Wilberforce, we should have
lost many of these very interesting particulars, which are now
preserved in the published letters on the Nicobar Islands, and
these written by the only surviving missionary, after an interval
of twenty-five years from the period of the actual observations.
Surely it is not for the credit of public intelligence among us, that
such men and such doings should have been so long unnoticed;
and it must excite regret not unmingled with shame, to think that
a complete set of their periodical accounts is not to be found, because there was no demand for their earlier numbers, and they
had no encouragement to multiply or preserve them.




ON THE
STYLE AND SUBJECTS OF THE PULPIT:
BEING THE
SUBSTANCE OF AN ARGUMENT
CONTRIBUTED TO
"THE CHRISTIAN INSTRUCTOR"
IN 1811.
THE public taste has of late years undergone a considerable
change in works of imagination. The fictitious characters have
become more natural; the story is a nearer imitation of real life;
and the moral far more applicable than ever to the existing state
of manners, and the actual business of society. Whatever may
be the cause, the fact is undeniable. We are less disposed to
sympathize with those high-flown sensibilities, which, however
beautiful in fiction, are seldom exemplified in the every-day scenes
of human experience. The popular taste is more a business taste
than before. It runs less upon finery, and more upon plain and
familiar usefulness. The men and women of our most popular
novels bear a closer resemblance to those characters which we
meet every week at our markets, and converse with at our teaparties; and the poetry of a late fashionable school, derived its
chief currency from the growing taste of the public for the truth
and simplicity of nature.
In the volume before us,* we perceive something like the application of the same principle to a composition of piety. The
chief aim of the writer is truth and perspicuity; and in the prosecution of this aim, he gives up everything that is calculated only
to signalize and display himself. There is no superfluous expression, no ambitious oratory; he is always sure to take the line of
shortest distance to the point he is going to. He expends all his
strength on the idea; after which he has no other care, than to
express it with clearness and effect in the fewest possible words.
* The work reviewed in this paper was Dr. Charters' Sermons.




156      ON THE STYLE AND SUBJECTS OF THE PULPIT.
He never aspires after mere gracefulness of composition; and, in
his exclusive attention to what is useful, appears quite indifferent
to the flow of his periods, and the musical construction of his sentences. We cannot look for anything like harmony in this aphoristic style of writing, where correctness takes at all times the
precedency of ornament, and the elegant is sacrificed without remorse, whenever it would pervert or enfeeble the rigorous accuracy of the meaning.
It is not merely in point of expression, but in the choice of his
subject, and the manner of treating it, that this author strikes out
a path for himself, and stands distinguished firom all popular and
prevailing example.  His great aim is to bring forward Christianity to the walks of ordinary business, and to send home its moral
principles to the understanding and experience of ordinary men.
Some would say, that he brings down Christianity to ordinary
business; as if Christianity were degraded by such an application, and as if human life, in all its minuteness and variety, were
not the proper theatre for the display and exercise of Christian
principles. The author before us seems to have caught the true
practical spirit of the New Testament, and to have aimed at the
revival of that substantial style, which, however often exemplified
in the discourses of our Saviour, has been suffered to run too much
into idle speculation and controversy on the one hand, and into
cold uninteresting generality on the other. He carries out religion from the house of prayer into the shop, the market, and the
family. This imparts a secular tone to his performances, which
is certainly not very usual in a composition of piety; but the true
and the useful seem to be the favorite, if not the only, objects of
this respectable writer. In the prosecution of these objects, there
is, at times, a minuteness of application, which some will deem low
and familiar; a plainness of expression, which some will term
vulgar and slovenly; and even a simplicity, which, to some tastes,
may appear to border upon childishness, and be somewhat allied
to that overwrought simplicity which runs through the phrase and
sentiment of Mr. Wordsworth, and which for a time disgusted the
public even with his more meritorious poetry.
But there is still another point of resemblance betwixt these
two writers, in their very different departments of literary exertion. In neither of them is the simplicity which we are now talking of, —the simplicity of weak and incapable minds. Both make
a voluntary descent from the natural level of their powers and attainments.  In the volume of Dr. Charters we meet with frequent
displays of an understanding of the higher order; where there is
often great depth of observation, and great vigor and brilliancy
of eloquence, the occasional glimpses of a mind enriched with various literature, and which can appeal to the profoundest principles
of political science, when they give effect or illustration to the lessons of the Christian morality. In a word, his is not the simpli



ON THE STYLE AND SUBJECTS OF THE PULPIT.                157
city of impotence   It is a simplicity assumed upon taste, and upon
principle; and founded upon the maxim, that ornament is at all
times to be sacrificed to truth, and perspicuity of observation.
This is an object he never loses sight of, though it should land
him at times in the trite, the inelegant, or the untasteful. He adheres to it with all the vigor of a true practical philosopher; and,
in his exclusive preference for what is useful, suffers no example
to restrain him from bringing forward truth however homely, and
experience however minute, and however familiar.
Dr. Charters has taken occasion, in the first sermon in the volume before us, to announce his peculiar ideas upon this subject.
" To be plain, and memorable, and earnest," says he, 1" are the chief requisites in the style of a practical treatise.
"' Labor is well bestowed in making the principles of religion plain; and they
only who have tried to instruct the ignorant, know how much labor it requires,
and how often the man of taste must deny himself; blunting the edge of his
wit, dropping the graces of composition, breaking his large round period
in pieces, making vulgar similes, and using words which shock the critic.
When the labor of explanation is accomplished, the merit of the laborer does
not appear, and credit is seldom given him for his condescension and selfdenial.
"' Works of taste are composed to please; but the object of religious instruction is more serious and severe; it is to undeceive, to reclaim, to conduct in a
steep and thorny path. Taste and imagination revolt, leaving reason and the
heart to ponder.' The orator (says D'Alembert) sacrifices harmony, when
he would strike by things: justness, when he would attract by expression.'
This may be a good rule for the academy; but the sacred orator will never
make the last of these sacrifices, and the first he will not account a sacrifice.
"4 Earnestness supersedes the use of ornaments, and declines tbhem. In entering a cottage to give counsel and comfort, your fine clothes and fine language
would disconcert rather than ingratiate. A familiar, serious, earnest manner is
enough. Richard Baxter often introduces in his writings such objections, and
doubts, and temptations, and fears, as had been proposed to him in private, and
answers them as he did to the proposer. This gives to his style a character of
truth and life. The language of conference about incumbent duties and trials,
though proscribed by the critics as colloquial, is well adapted to religious
instruction. It is opposed to an erroneous fastidious conceit about the dignity
of pulpit composition. It is doing for the Gospel what Socrates did for philosophy, bringing it from the clouds to the earth; from the region of fancy to the
abode of conscience; from hidden mysteries to the affairs of men; transforming it from a theatre of eloquence into a rule of life."
But a sermon, written on the above principle, does not appear
to us to be exclusively addressed to the poor and the ignorant. It
must be observed, that there is a very wide distinction betwixt a
truth in practical morality, and a truth that is exclusively addressed
to the understanding. In the latter case, the object, in announcing the truth, is gained, if it be understood. In the former case,
that the object be fulfilled, the truth must not merely be understood, but acted upon. We could forgive the contempt of a pro*found mathematician, when he turns aside from some humble performance of the school-boy elements of his science; but that can
by no means justify the indifference of the most exalted genius




158     ON THE STYLE AND SUBJECTS OF THE PULPIT.
upon earth, when he turns aside from a performance that gives
him a clear and simple exposition of his duty, merely because there
is nothing in it to stimulate and exercise the powers of his understanding. Our sole object in reading a sermon, is not to rectify
or inform our judgment: it is also to fill our minds with an habitual sense of duty, by the frequent recurrence of its attention to
principles, which, in themselves, are clear and undeniable, but
which, if not always present to the mind, leave it a prey to the inroads of vice, and licentiousness, and folly. When one man tells
another his duty, it is not to protect his understanding from the
sophistry of a false argument,-it is to protect his conduct from
the still more bewildering sophistry of passion and interest. It is
not to teach him what he did not know, and did not understand.
The principle may be acquiesced in the moment that it is proposed;
and has, in all likelihood, been acquiesced in a thousand times before. Still this does not supersede the usefulness of telling it over
again. A moral principle, to exert any efficacy upon the conduct,
must be present to the mind at the moment of deliberation. It is
not enough, that in some former exercise of our understanding,
this principle was attended to, and considered, and acquiesced in,
and added to the list of our intellectual acquirements. It must be
something more than understood. It must be attended to. It
must be at all times in readiness for actual service, and ever prone
to offer itself as a powerful and controlling element in the contest,
which so often arises betwixt the opposite principles of our constitution. When we read a sermon, we sit down to it as an exercise of piety. We may meet with nothing which we did not
know, and be told of nothing which we did not understand. It
may add nothing to our speculation, but it will fulfil its chief aim,
if it adds to our practical wisdom; if it gives our mind a steadier
and more habitual direction to the principles of good conduct; if
it adds to the promptitude with which we can summon up the suggestions of duty, to restrain and regulate our footsteps in the path
of life, and arrest the rapidity of those erring and irregular movements, into which the turbulence of this world's passions is so
ready to transport us.
We can conceive a philosopher to have made the study of human nature the business of his life, and to have even enlightened
the world by his profound and accurate speculations on the different principles of our constitution. It is well known, that this does
not prevent these principles, as they exist in his own mind, from
being actually in a high state of disorder, and that the speculative
wisdom which can trace the law of their operation, is totally different from that practical wisdom which can control their violence,
and maintain them in an entire subordination to his sense of propriety. It is perfectly conceivable that, accomplished as his mind
is in the science of its own character and phenomena, it may lose
the direction of itself in the collisions of actual business, and ex



ON THE STYLE AND SUBJECTS OF THE PULPIT.        159
hibit the humiliating spectacle of weakness, and wickedness, and
folly. Suppose him to be engaged in the management of some
important affair, which is in danger of miscarrying from the misguided violence of his temper. Is there anything misplaced or
superfluous, we would ask, in a friend taking him aside and entreating him to be calm? It is vain to say, that he has attended
profoundly to the nature and effects of anger, and that he knows
this part of our constitution better than any of his advisers. In
spite of this circumstance, it would be looked upon as quite natural, quite in place, for an esteemed or confidential acquaintance to
enter at large into the necessity of maintaining the discipline of
his temper, and the mischief that would proceed from indulging it,
even though in the whole course of his explanation, he was not to
appeal to a single principle which had not been better explained,
and more eloquently expatiated upon by our profound and philosophical moralist. It is not that he does not know his duty, but
that, in the rapidity of his feelings, he is apt to forget, and needs
to be reminded of it. It is, that his sense of duty is apt to be
overpowered by the violence of his passions, and that to prepare
him for the contest, we must strengthen his sense of duty, both
by recalling his attention to it, and by applying that kind of authority which an earnest and sincere friendship usually carries
along with it.
The sermon, which lays before us a simple exposition of our
duty, stands precisely in the situation of such a friend. It is not
that we are ignorant of our duty, but we find, that a frequent recalment of our mind to its simple and undeniable maxims, has the
actual effect of imparting a greater steadiness to our conduct, and
forms a useful part of moral and religious discipline. There is a
difference between mistaking our duty and losing sight of it. The
object of a sermon is to heal not the former, but the latter infirmity of our constitution,-not so much to enlighten us in the knowledge of our duty, as to enable us to keep it more constantly in
view, that it may be ever present to the mind, and exert an habitual authority over the unruly passions and principles of our nature. We find, in point of fact, that the frequent direction of our
mind to the duties and principles of conduct, is an improving exercise; and that a volume of sermons is a very effectual instrument for giving it this direction. It may neither regale the imagination, nor add a single truth to the list of our intellectual attainments; but it accomplishes its chief purpose, if we rise from it
with a heart more penetrated with a sense of its religious obligations, and disposed to yield a readier submission to the authority
of conscience and of scripture.
Upon these considerations, a plain volume of sermons is a useful
manual, not merely for the peasant, but for the philosopher. We
do not say, that it will help him in the business of philosophy, any
more than that it will help an artificer in the processes of work



160      ON THE STYLE AND SUBJECTS OF THE PULPIT.
manship. But it will help him in an object which should be as
dear to him as to any brother of his species; it will keep alive the
vigilance of his moral principles; nor can we conceive a more interesting picture, than a man of science, rich in all the liberal endowments of a university, giving a holy hour to the culture of his
heart, and to the truest of all wisdom, the wisdom of piety.
But it would not be altogether accurate, to characterize the
volume before us as a plain volume of sermons. There is a great
deal of very plain observation to be met with; for what is or
what ought to be, more familiar to the understandings of all than
the practical lessons of morality? It seems to be the maxim of
Dr. Charters, to tell all the truth, and nothing but the truth; and
in steady obedience to this maxim, he neither shrinks from what
is trite and familiar, nor does he ever abandon the useful, in pursuit of the profound, the ingenious, or the elaborate. But in telling all the truth, there is an occasional call for a higher kind of
effort, and it is an effort to which this respectable author proves
himself fully equal. The great principles of duty are obvious and
accessible to all; but it sometimes happens, that the judicious application of these principles requires all the effort and ingenuity
of a mind, that is much cultivated in the experience of human affairs. Dr. Charters, in a former publication, observes: " Children
of the poor often unite to inter a parent decently: it is a becoming and commendable testimony of respect; but it is still more
commendable to minister to them in age and sickness; a few bottles of wine are of great use in the decay of life, and are better
bestowed as a cordial, than as a mark of honor."  We have heard
this called low, but we confess that we see nothing in it, but the
same homeliness and vigor of practical wisdom, which made
Franklin so illustrious, and that we like the man, who, in his exclusive preference for the useful, will tell the truth as it stands, and
lav aside ornament and superfluity, as fit only for the amusement
of children. This same author can discuss the poor rates, upon
the most liberal principles of political economy. He can shape
his argument to the spirit and philosophy of the times; and, in
the great object of illustrating the morality of the New Testament,
he exhibits all the compass and cultivation of a mind, that is awake
both to the events of public history, and to the very latest discoveries which have been made in the progress of philosophical speculation.
But it is high time that Dr. Charters should speak for himself.
The volume before us consists of four sermons. It is a new edition, and different from a former work consisting of two volumes,
and which has been in possession of the public a good many
years. We confine our extracts to the volume before us, as exhibiting a very fair specimen of the characteristic manner of the
author. His first sermon is upon alms-giving; and in the substantiai maxims which he advances upon the direction of our char



ON THE STYLE AND SUBJECTS OF THE PULPIT.               161
ity, affords us a most refreshing contrast to that sentimental and
high-wrought extravagance which sparkles in the poetry and eloquence of our fine writers. The author never forgets, that it lies
within the province of virtue not merely to feel, but to do,-not
merely to conceive a purpose, but to carry that purpose into execution,-not merely to be overpowered by the impression of a
sentiment, but to practise what it loves, and to imitate what it admires.
" Compassion, improperly cultivated," says he, " springs into a fruitless sensibility. If a brother or sister be naked, and destitute of daily food, and if you
say unto them, depart in peace, be ye warmed and filled, notwithstanding ye
give them not those things which are needful for the body; what doth it profit?
To enter the abodes of the wretched; to examine wants, and debts, and diseases; to endure loathsome sights and smells within the sphere of infection; to
give time, and thought, and hands, and money: this is the substance, not the
shadow of virtue. The pleasures of sensibility may be less, but so is the danger of self-deceit which attends it. Death-beds, in the page of an eloquent
writer, delight the imagination; but they who are most delighted, are not the
first to visit a dying neighbor, and sit up all night, and wipe off the cold sweat,
and moisten the parched lip, and give easy postures, and bear with peevishness,
and suggest a pious thought, and console the parting spirit. They often encompass the altar of virtue, but not to sacrifice.
"' Extreme sensibility is a diseased state of the mind. It unfits us to relieve
the miserable, and tempts us to turn away. The sight ofpain is shunned, and
the thought of it suppressed; the ear is stopped against the cry of indigence;
the house of mourning is passed by; even near friends are abandoned, when
sick, to the nurse and physician, and when dead to those who mourn for a hire;
and all this under pretence of fine feeling and sentimental delicacy.  The
apples of Sodom are mistaken for the fruit of Paradise.
", Compassion may fall on wrong objects, and yet be justified and applauded.
One living in borrowed affluence becomes bankrupt. His sudden fall strikes
the imagination; pity is felt, and generous exertions are made in his behalf.
There is indeed a call for pity; but upon whom? Upon servants, who have
received no wages; upon traders and artificers, whose economy he has deranged;,
upon the widow, whom he has caused to weep over destitute children."
There is something in all the performances of Dr. Charters, that
forcibly reminds us of the moral essays of Lord Bacon. If the
reader is not repelled at the outset by the abruptness of his sentences, and the occasional homeliness of his phraseology, he will
find in the sermons before us a rich vein of originality and just observation. His taste is perhaps too exclusively formed upon the
older writers; and in his well-founded admiration of what may be
called the sturdiness of good sense, and judicious reflections, he
seems to look upon the mere embellishment of language as finical
and superfluous, and calculated only to amuse a puny and degenerate age. We regret this the more, that it creates a prejudice
against him at the outset. Not but that we have all faith to repose in
the maxim of magna est veritas, etprevalebit; but we lament that
even a temporary barrier should have been raised betwixt the
public mind, and that excellent sense which is so well calculated
to purify and enlighten it. Dr. Charters is entitled to a distin21




1,62     ON THE STYLE AND SUBJECTS OF THE PULPIT.
guished reception in the best company, but he has neglected the
means of obtaining for himself a ready introduction. There is
nothing in his air or first appearance that is at all calculated to
announce his pretensions. It will take a time before these pretensions are thoroughly appreciated, though we have no doubt that
the time is coming; and even after it arrives, he will be somewhat like certain philosophers of our acquaintance, who, without
the air or the habiliments of gentlemen, have at length extorted
an acknowledgment of their importance, and are, upon the reputation of their more substantial accomplishments, admitted into
the society of elegant and well-dressed fashionables.
But this is all a question of taste, and it must never be forgotten,
that of every species of composition, the popularity of a sermon
should be the least dependent upon its fluctuations.  The aim  of
poetry is to please. The aim of a sermon is to instruct; and its
chief excellence consists in the soundness of these instructions, and
in the clear and familiar manner with which it sends them home
to the conscience and experience of its readers. We can conceive that the exploded phraseology of the older writers may
again become fashionable, and that the public, in a fit of disgust
at the flippancy of a superficial age, may recur for a time to that
homeliness of language, with which it associates the manliness of
a Bacon, a Barrow, a Butler, and an Atterbury. We think little
of the strength of that man's philosophy, who would suffer the
uncouth exterior of the above compositions to repel him from the
sense and judicious observation which abound in them. And we
fear that little can be said for the strength of that man's piety,
who would turn in disgust from such a volume as that before us,
merely because it failed to regale his fancy by the brilliancy of
its images, or to lull his ear by the smoothness and harmony of its
clauses. So long as principle and philosophy exist, the impressiveness of truth must prevail over the graces and embellishments
of fine language. The latter is perpetually varying, but the former is immutable as the laws of our constitution, and lasting as
the existence of the species.
We give the following specimen as an example of the practical
and familiar manner of Dr. Charters.
"' Every passion justifies itself, and arguments are opposed to alms-giving.
"I may do what I will with mine own, and no one has a right to dictate. But
you can examine yourself, and think of the account which must hereafter be
given of what is your own.
"I have children to providefor. Inquire, if there be bounds in providing for
a family; if alms be a kind of riches which lay a good foundation for the time
to come; and whether your children are like to profit most by the savings of
avarice, or by the odor of a good name, and the blessing entailed by Providence on the posterity of the merciful.
" I have a rank to keep, and the money expended does good to laborers, though
not precisely in theform of alms. The rich man in the parable, who was clothed
with purple and fine linen, and fared sumptuously every day, could plead, that




ON THE STYLE AND SUBJECTS OF THE PULPIT.             163
the furnishing his fine cloth and sumptuous fare did good to laborers; for it does
not appear that he was an oppressor, or unjust.
" The poor get enoughfrom those who are better able to give. You will find
upon inquiry, that the poor still have wants, some of which you may be able
to supply. The alms-giving of others will not justify your neglect. Every
man must prove his own work, that he may have rejoicing in himself alone. If
you give no alms of such things as you have, none of these things are clean to
you.
"' When I grow rich I will be charitable. If you are charitable in such ways
as are now in your power, there is hope; but riches do not cure a worldly
mind. The sin of covetousness, and the spirit of alms, are found in a low estate. Affections may fix on a cottage, or a little field: the heart may cling to
a small sum; for a mess of pottage, the birthright that is despised will be sold.
There may be a willing mind in the widow, whose possession is two mites; in
the laborer, who spares part of his wages for those who cannot labor; in one
who reaches a cup of cold water to the thirsty. She has done what she could,
was the praise of Mary of Bethany.' You have one maid,' said William Law
to a devout lady,' she is under your care, teach her the Catechism, hear her
read, exhort her to pray, take her with you to church, persuade her to love
the divine service as you love it, edify her with your conversation, fill her with
your own notions of piety, and spare no pains to make her as holy and devout
as yourself.' "
Now, all this is true; it is important, and must be appreciated
by every heart that is anxious to be reminded of its duties. Some
would call it insipid, though we cannot conceive how this should
be the feeling of those who are rightly impressed with the magnitude of the subject, and who sit down to a sermon, with the fair
and honest anxiety of giving new vigilance and direction to their
moral and religious principles. In the language of Paul, it is right
that we should become all things to all men, that we may gain
some; and if a single proselyte can be gained to the cause of
righteousness, by the embellishments of elegant literature, let every attraction be given to the subject, which taste and elegance
can throw  around it.  But let it be remembered, that these attractions have no influence over the vast majority of the species,
and that the only impression of which they are susceptible, is that
wholesome and direct impression which a clear and simple exposition of duty makes upon the conscience. Let it further be remembered, that even among the cultivated orders of society, the
appetite for mere gracefulness of expression is sure, in time, to
give way to the more substantial accomplishments of good sense
and judicious observation  and that, in every rightly constituted
mind, the importance of what is true, must carry it over the allurement of what is pretty, and elegant, and fashionable.
The following extract, on the precautions which are necessary
in the prosecution of a good work, affords a specimen of the manner in which Dr. Charters applies the lessons of a sound and experimental wisdom to the elucidation of his subject.," Do not omit, or slur over, professional labors, for a labor of love. You
may be censured for not listening to a tale of woe: and let the censurer, who




164       ON THE STYLE AND SUBJECTS OF THE PULPIT.
has time, investigate the truth and falsehood of woful tales, and begging letters, and the use or abuse of subscription papers; but if your time be occupied
with incumbent duties and real beneficence, you are above the region of sentimental clouds and vapors.
" Be discreet in soliciting for your favorite charity. Others may have objects
equally useful, to which their alms are devoted. They may not be in circumstances to give, and yet too facile to resist importunity; they may come to
mark and avoid you as impertinent and obtrusive. It is the safe and desirable
course, at least for a quiet man, to interest himself in some charity which he
can accomplish, without troubling other people.
1" Consult your own temper; if it be extremely modest, you are not qualified
to scramble for the power of patronage, or solicit for friends, or pry into secret
wants, or to be officious. Inquire what good work may fall in with your constitutional temper, and not force the course of the river. Father Paul, when
pressed on the subject of the reformation, said, God had not given him the
spirit of Luther. They who have bold unembarrassed confidence in their own
powers, are fittest for public usefulness.
" Take care, that meekness be not lost in the ardent pursuit of charity. One
is apt to overrate the good object upon which he has set his heart, and to resent
the opposition it may meet with from the ill-natured and selfish, or from those
who have not the same conviction of its importance an(d utility. Keep your
temper. From opposition and final disappointment, you may reap patience,
and meekness, and humility; and these, as well as alms, are treasures in
heaven.
"Guard against everything like unfairness; against concealing or disguising
facts, and taking sensibility by surprise; against forwarding a good work by
any indirection. It is of more importance, that integrity and uprightness be
maintained, than that good works be multiplied."
There is a most unfortunate distinction kept up in the country
betwixt moral and evangelical preaching. It has the effect of instituting an opposition where no opposition should be supposed to
exist; and a preference for the one is, in this way, made to carry
along with it an hostility, or an indifference to the other. The
mischief of this is incalculable. It has the effect of banishing
Christianity altogether from the system of human life; and the familiar business of society, which takes up such a vast majority of
our time and attention, is kept in a state of entire separation from
those religious principles, which are so well calculated to guide
and to enlighten it. The effect is undeniable. If the main busi
ness of religion is performed not in the world, but away from it;
if the labor of the week days is not supposed to bear as intimate a
connection with religion as the exercises of the Sabbath; if the
conduct of man in society does not come as immediately under the
cognizance and direction of religious principles as the devout preparations of solitude; then by far the greater part of human life
is lost to religion; and that noble principle which should exert an
undivided sway over every hour and minute of our existence, is
restricted in its operation to those paltry fragments of time which
we can hardly extort from the urgency of our secular occupations.
There is a party of Christians who have the name of zeal, and
who have even its sincerity, and yet, in point of fact, have done
much to detract from the importance of religion, by keeping it at




ON THE STYLE AND SUBJECTS OF THE PULPIT.                 165
a distance from the familiar and every-day scenes of human society. They have offered it precisely the same kind of injury
which the dignity of a monarch sustains by the dismemberment
of his territories. They have narrowed that domain over which
the authority of religious principle ought to have extended. Instead of vesting in religion a right of dominion over the whole
man, they have restricted it to a mere fraction of his time, and his
employment, and his principles. With the appearance of maintaining the elevation of religion, they have, in fact, degraded it
from its high and undivided empire. They have confined its operations to a little corner in the life of man, instead of allowing it a
wide and unexcepted authority over the whole system  of human
affairs.
On the other hand, there is a party of Christians who expatiate,
in high terms, upon the morality of the Gospel, while they disown
the power, and humility, and unction, of its peculiar doctrines.
But to disown, or even to admit with a cold and unfeeling negligence, a single doctrine of the New Testament, is to forget its authority as a revelation fiom  heaven.  It is an approach to Deism.
It is to take away from morality all that power and influence
which it derives from religion. It is to expel from it the sanction
of God; for where do we learn that the morality of the Gospel
has the sanction of heaven, but from the Gospel itself? and how
can we respect its lessons, if we withhold the cheerful and unqualified submission of our understandings from the authority of any
of its doctrines?
Now, it is the happy combination of evangelical piety, with the
familiar, wholesome, and experimental morality of human life,
which, to our taste, constitutes the peculiar charm and excellence
of the sermons before us.* Dr. Charters, in spite of the secular
complexion that his continued reference to the business of life imparts to his performance, sustains through the whole of it the true
unction of the apostolical spirit. The morality of the sermons before us never degenerates into a mere system of prudence, or into
virtue reposing upon its own charms, or its own obligations: It
is virtue resting upon revealed truth, and animated by the life and
inspiration of the Gospel. The author of these sermons looks upon
human life, not merely with the eye of a wise and philosophical
* We certainly could have wished, that the peculiar doctrines of the Gospel had been
more explicitly noticed; that we had not merely been able to recognize their influence
throughout the practical discussions of the volume, but that they had been more openly
announced, and more emphatically stated. In our author's pages, indeed, we observe
such a spirit pervading them, as nothing could have infused but a strong and decided impression of Christian truth. But, to give a prominency to that truth, to bring it particularly, and broadly, and frequently into view, is attended with great advantages, independently of its immediate effect on the instructions in which it is exhibited. And though
we entirely disapprove of that ostentatious way in which some bring forward the characteristic truths of Christianity, we are persuaded that the other extreme of keeping them
very much out of sight, is not justifiable on any good ground.




166       ON THE STYLE AND SUBJECTS OF THE PULPIT.
moralist; he looks upon it with the eye of a Christian, and transfuses the sanctity of the evangelical spirit into the most minute
and familiar occurrences. As we move along, we feel ourselves
not merely in the hand of an instructor, whose sense and experimental wisdom will guide us with safety and propriety through
the world. We feel as if we were in the hands of a father or
evangelist, whose venerable piety gives an air of sacredness to the
subject, who consecrates the ground on which we are treading,
and makes it holy. This, combined with the simplicity of his
language, and his frequent allusions to scripture, has the effect of
imparting a very decided feature of Quakerism to the whole of his
compositions. In saying this, we do not conceive that we annex
ridicule or discredit to the performance. All that we intend is
aptly to characterize; and, in an age like the present, when piety
is so prone to run into fanatical extravagance, and morality is
ready to disown all that is peculiar or authoritative in the Christian
revelation, we think it no small praise to be assimilated to a set of
men, who, with all the apostolical simplicity of the first Christians,
have, notwithstanding several erroneous tenets in their religious
system, exemplified, in so striking a degree, by their mild and respectable virtues, the power and the practice of the Gospel.
The following extract from his second sermon, on the duty of
making a testament, may serve to illustrate the above observation.," A solemn deed, which transfers our momentary interest in the things of
time, reminds us that they are not our chief good. Perhaps there are few moments of your life when you are more loosened from the world, than the moment of subscribing a testament.  The soul, amidst strong attachments to
the world, needs such loosening. The young acorn inclosed in a husk, and
adhering to the stem, resists the scorching of the sun and the shaking of the
wind, but it is gradually ripened by the sun and loosened by the wind, till it be
ready to drop into the earth, that it may rise again an oak of the future forest.
Things inanimate and passive, in their progress, are only figures of the destiny
of man; it is man's prerogative to co-operate in his progress, and predispose
himself for his future high destination. A deed of conveyance disengages and
elevates the heart. I have determined whose all these things shall be; but
what is my portion?  My heart and flesh shall faint and fail, but God is the
strength of my heart and my portion forever.," The last transaction of life would be but little interesting, were our prospect bounded by the darkness, and solitude, and forgetfulness of the grave; far
from anticipating the evil day, we would consign to oblivion the past and the
future. It is immortality brought to light by the Gospel, which gives an importance, an interest, and a dignity, to the concluding scenes of life. These are
not only observed and remembered by men who survive, and who are soon to
follow; they are also recorded in the book out of which the dead will be judged.
We act as on a theatre, where God and angels are spectators, and a crown of
life is the prize. We feel a powerful and permanent motive, throughout life
and at death, to be faithful in the few things now committed to our charge, to
live unto the Lord and to die unto the Lord."
We regret that our limits do not allow us to indulge in any
further extracts from this interesting performance. At the close




ON THE STYLE AND SUBJECTS OF THE PULPIT.              167
of the volume, we have an Appendix, in which the author gives
us a short exposition of different texts of Scripture, in pursuance
of an idea of Lord Bacon's.
"We find," says his Lordship, " among theological writings, too many books
of controversy, a vast mass of what we call positive theology, and numerous
prolix comments upon the several books of Scripture; but the thing we want
and propose is, a short, sound, and judicious collection of notes and observations
upon particular texts of Scripture, without running into commonplace, pursuing controversies, or reducing these notes to artificial method, but leaving them
quite loose and native."




ON THE
DIFFERENCE
BETWEEN
SPOKEN AND WRITTEN LANGUAGE;
BEING THE
SUBSTANCE OF AN ARGUMENT
CONTRIBUTED TO
"THE ECLECTIC REVIEW"
IN 1816.
THERE are many of the constituents of spoken eloquence that
cannot be imbodied into a volume, or offered to the notice of the
public eye through the medium of authorship. There are the
tone of earnestness which may be heard, and the manner of sincerity which may be witnessed, and the eye of intelligent sensibility which may be seen, and the vehemence of an impassioned
delivery which may be made to stimulate and to warn the spectators, and all that significancy of gesture and of action, which
carries in it a real conveyance both of meaning into the understanding, and of affection into the hearts, of those who are listening to some exhibition of oratory,-every one of which may tell
most eloquently and most powerfully upon an audience, and yet
neither of which can be introduced by any artifice of human skill
within the limits of a written composition. We can insert nothing
into a book, but bare words; and though it be true that even
words without any accompaniment whatever, may express all the
fire, and all the earnestness, and all the glow and intensity of feeling, and all the tone of intelligence to which we have just now
adverted; yet it is also true that there are many who possess all
these attributes of the judgment and of the fancy, and who do not
possess the faculty of putting forth the expression of them by the
vehicle of a written communication. There are many who carry
in their minds all the conceptions of genius, but who seem to want




DIFFERENCE BETWEEN SPOKEN AND WRITTEN' LANGUAGE. 169
the one faculty of rendering them faithfully and impressively in
written language-who can speak all their conceptions with adequate effect, and that too not merely because they have all the
natural signs of communication at their command, but because
such is the habit of their minds, that in the present extemporaneous
workings of thought and of imagination, they experience a flow,
and a facility, and an appropriateness of utterance, the distinct
words of which, could they have been substantiated at the time in
the indelibility of written characters, would have offered a lively
impress of the talent which gave them birth; but which, in the
cool and deliberate efforts of composition, they find, from a single
defect either of practice or of original constitution, they are not
able to create anew or to recall.
Written language is an expedient framed to meet the infirmities
of our present state; and in a more perfect condition of being, it
is conceivable that there may be no use and no demand for it. It
is the immortality of our nature which makes it necessary for the
purpose of stamping upon durable records the wisdom of one generation and transmitting it to another; and it is through a defect
in the faculties of memory and imitation, that we are not able to
send to a distance the products of a powerful and original mind,
by the living conveyance of oral testimony. Just conceive these
distempers of the species to be done away, and the faculty of'
writing would no longer be necessary to establish either a distant
or a posthumous reputation. And this may lead us to perceive
upon how slender a distinction it is that such a reputation is earned
by some, and is utterly placed without the reach and the attainment
of others; and how for the few names that have come down to
posterity, as marking out the most able, or the most profound, or
the most eloquent of our race, there may be thousands who possessed every one of these attributes as richly and as substantially
as they, but who, now personally withdrawn from us, have no
place whatever either in the praise or in the remembrance of the
world.
There is one circumstance additional to all we have enumerated,
which serves to widen the distinction between the effects of his
spoken and of his written eloquence, when a preacher of sermons
becomes an author of sermons. There is generally a strong disposition on the part of a people, to cherish a cordiality and a kindliness of good-will towards their minister. Conceive then a minister not merely to have done nothing to forfeit the attachment of
his hearers, but everything to enthrone himself in their hearts,
and so to have cultivated the duties of the pastoral relation, as to
have become an object of devoted and enthusiastic regard to all
his congregation. Here is a peculiar source of impression with
which the public at large cannot possibly sympathize. They cannot be made to feel like his own people the personal worth of him
who is addressing them, nor to kindle at the warmth of his known
22




170             DIFFERENCE BETWEEN SPOKEN
and affectionate anxiety for their best interests, nor to be grateful
for his unwearied kindness to themselves and their families, nor to
read with indulgence what they are sure has flowed from the inspiration of fervent piety, nor to associate with the composition all
that weight of authority which lies in the character of him who
gave it birth, nor to hear the voice and perceive the expression
of an unquestionable friendship throughout all its pages. In these
circumstances a congregation is not to wonder, if the suffrage of
the public voice shall not altogether harmonize with the acclamations of their loud and sincere popularity; or if they who are in
full possession of all those accompaniments which give an aid and
an energy to every sentence of the volume that has been presented to them, shall both feel its merits and sound its eulogies far
beyond the pitch of its distant and general estimation.
This circumstance may serve to explain the cause of the multiplicity of those volumes of sermons which are annually presented
to the world. But it will do more than explain, it will also justify
this multiplicity. However little the community at large may be
attracted by the nakedness of the written composition, it comes to
the people who heard it with the force of all those associations
which gave their peculiar effect to the spoken addresses of their
minister. They read the volume differently from others; for they
read it with the recollection upon them of the tone, and the manner, and the earnestness, and the impassionate vehemency of its
author. They read it with the whole impression of his personal
influence and character upon their minds; and this renders the
volume a more useful and a more affecting memorial to them, than
it ever can be to the public at large. And this is a reason that,
apart from general advantage altogether, volumes of sermons
should be frequently published for the good of the congregation
in whose hearing they were delivered. It is true that the tameness of many sermons, and the exceeding frequency of their appearance before the eyes of the world, have served to vulgarize
and to degrade them in the common estimation; but the benefit
they confer on those to whom their author is endeared by the ties
of long and affectionate intercourse, much more than compensates
for that humble rank on the field of general literature, to which
this class of compositions has now fallen.
These remarks by no means apply in their full extent to the
volume that is now before us.* It possesses undoubted claims on
the general attention of the public; but the deductions to which
we have now adverted, must in a greater or less degree be made
from every book of sermons. And accordingly we cannot but remark of the present volume, that however high and however well
founded its claims may be, it does not in our judgment present to
the world at large an adequate impress of that power of conception, that richness of fancy, that versatility of illustration, that de* The work reviewed in this paper was Dr. Jones' Sermons.




AND WRITTEN LANGUAGE.                 171
cisive boldness of announcement, that warmth of pastoral tenderness, and even that capability of impressive and significant language, which we know the author to possess, and by the weekly
display of which he so often transports and overpowers the sensibilities of his own congregation. We trust that the work before
us will stand high in general estimation; but we think that on the
strength of the above remarks we may say with certainty of the
sermons, that they will not occupy the same rank in general authorship, which they do in the esteem of those who sit under the
ministrations of Dr. Jones, and bear witness to those rapid energies both of thought and of expression, which in the moment of
delivery he brings so successfully into action.
This author is, in the whole style and substance of his sentiments, evangelical. It is quite clear from these sermons, that were
he formally questioned as to his faith in the leading peculiarities
of the Gospel, there is not one of them which he would not most
firmly and most zealously recognize. And this may be ascertained in two ways;-either directly-by the precise and positive
announcements which the author makes upon the subject, or indirectly —by the obviously prevailing tone which his belief in the
truths of the New Testament gives to all his remarks. Now, there
is a numerous class both of readers and of hearers, who will not be
satisfied, except on the first evidence, of the orthodoxy of him who
addresses them. There is what we would call a morbid jealousy
upon this subject; and the preacher, if conscious of its existence,
will go out of his direct and natural way for the purpose of
meeting and appeasing it. Nay, such is the power of sympathy,
that this jealousy on the part of others will often excite his own
apprehensions; and, to insure his own orthodoxy, he will constantly make the most obtrusive and ostentatious displays of itfearful lest every sentiment should not be in express and visible
subordination to the strictest principles of Calvinism. He will
not venture to urge a single duty, without guarding the exhortatioa
by an interposed remark about the doctrine of merit, or of spiritual influence; and thus laboring under the burden of the whole
system, he will prosecute his tardy way through the fields of practical Christianity-encumbering himself with the task of bringing
out into manifest and undeniable display, the consistency of all
that proceeds from him, with the articles of the evangelical creed.
Now it would seem that a mature and established faith in these
articles, would give rise to a freer and more spontaneous and untrammelled style of observation, both on the duties and on the
truths of the Christian religion. They will come at length rather
to be proceeded on, than to be made the subjects of distinct and
repeated avowal. They will not be so frequently nor so systematically asserted as at first; because, altogether free from any
conscious disposition on his own part to question the truth of
them, a Christian author will take them up as unquestionable, and




172              DIFFERENCE BETWEEN SPOKEN
turn tlhem to their immediate and their practical application. He
at length loses sight of them as topics of controversy; and resting
in them with a kind of axiomatic confidence, he will consider it
as quite unnecessary to vindicate or to avow them, or expatiate
upon them, at every step in the train of his observations. In this
way the train will get on more quickly, and the observations will
be greatly more multiplied; a wider range will be taken by him,
who, emancipated from all his fears and from all his scrupulosities, will feel himself at liberty to make a bold and immediate entrance upon every question of duty which presents itself, and to
draw his illustrations from every quarter of human experience;
and hence it is, that he will not be ever at the work of laying the
foundation; but with a mind already made up on all the essential
elements of the Christian faith, he will for that very reason be at
large for a more extended scope, and be able to lay before his
readers a richer and more abundant variety.
But we have dwelt sufficiently long on the preliminaries of the
subject, and must now proceed to lay before the reader a few extracts from  the book itself.  Its author appears to possess that
mature and established faith, to which we have just alluded. All
his perceptions are evidently those of an evangelical mind, but of
a mind so habitually and so thoroughly imbued with the essential
peculiarities of the New Testament, that they have long ceased to
offer themselves in that questionable light, which tends to excite
so much vehement asseveration about them, from less confident
and less experienced theologians. And accordingly, one great
charm of his sermons is, that they are altogether free from that
rigidity of complexion. which the intolerance and the jealousy of
system too often impart to the performances of many Christian
writers.  He compromises no truth.  He betrays no dereliction
of the principles of that faith which was once delivered to the
saints.  Nay, when they form the direct topic of his expositions,
he most fully and most earnestly contends for them. But instead
of constantly laboring after the defence and establishment of these
principles, he appears to give a far more effective testimony to
their reality and importance, by assuming them, and adopting
them, and conducting us at once to that subject which is more
nearly and immediately allied to the text of Scripture he has fixed
upon.
In the second sermon, on the Reward of receiving a Prophet,
preached upon the introduction* of a minister among his people,
we have the following sound and judicious advice to the people on
the subject of their week-day intercourse with their clergyman.
* It is customary in Scotland, that on the first sabbath of a minister's connection with
his people, the forenoon service should be conducted by a clerical friend of his own, who
on preaching an appropriate sermon on the duties of ministers and people is said to introduce the minister to his new congregation.




AND WRITTEN LANGUAGE.                       173
"The object of his ministry, remember, is spiritual; and you receive him
with the avowed intention of being assisted by him in forming your spiritual
character. Take heed that you do not secularize him; for, if you do, the
grand object of his settlement among you will be lost. Receive him to the
hospitality of your families; but let not your table become to him a snare.
Treat him as your companion and your friend; but never reduce him to the
painful alternative of leaving your company, or compromising his character."pp. 65, 66.
Dr. Jones has long been considered as a master in the art of
arrangement,-of constructing such a skilful and comprehensive
frame-work of a discourse, as enables him, by the filling up of its
separate compartments, to exhaust the text, and the subject embraced by it. And we are persuaded from the examples of this
in the sermons before us, that he would offer an acceptable service to the public, by presenting to them his compendiary views
of the many texts he has elucidated in the course of his lengthened
and laborious ministry.
We have already prepared the reader for the freedom and the
frequency of this author's descents into all the minute and actual
varieties of human experience. In his sermon on the Benefits of
Religious Worship to a man's own household, we are much
pleased at the readiness with which he enters into all the relations
of a family. He is we think very usefully employed, when he
steps into these every-day scenes, and prosecutes his remarks on
such familiar exhibitions of human life as the following.
", Men of an irreligious character generally rush into the married state, either
from unjustifiable motives, or with too high ideas of the felicity which it ought
to confer. The natural consequence is, that they soon meet with disappointment. But, instead of imputing this, as they ought, to their own folly and
rashness, they either unfairly lay the blame on the state itself, or ungenerously
attach it to the person with whom they have entered into it. Hence, to the
most idolatrous professions of attachment, succeed the most marked neglect, the
most frigid coolness, the most brutish severity of temper, language, and conduct; the wife becomes the most miserable of mortals; and of all her misery
her husband is the author. The religious man, on the contrary, instructed by
the doctrines of the Gospel, will choose his companion for life from among those
who fear the Lord; and towards her the predilection of judgment, and the
affection of nature, are strengthened and improved by the principle of grace.
His ideas of human felicity being corrected by the declarations of religion, and
a sense of personal depravity, instead of disappointment, he experiences more
real happiness in that state than his most sanguine hopes had anticipated. Well
he knows, that in human beings perfect wisdom and goodness do not reside.
Should he, therefore, discover in his wife a portion of that imperfection which
enters into the character of every mortal creature, instead of alienating his
affections, it will lead him to redouble his expressions of attachment and tenderness towards her. To love her person, to provide for her wants, to anticipate her wishes, to alleviate her pains, to prevent her fears, to raise her
thoughts to Heaven, to assist her in placing her confidence in the Rock of ages.
to promote her happiness and joy, are the subjects of his unremitted attention
and prayers. A man himself, of like passions with others, he will not escape
his share of provocation and offence; but conscience before God and towards
his wife, will lead him sternly and successfully to repel their influence,"-pP.
109, 110.




174               DIFFERENCE BETWEEN SPOKEN
"' Although the head of a family, when religious, is its greatest blessing, yet
if religion reign in its other branches he will not be its only blessing. Another
will appear, the next in order, and very little inferior in point of importance, in
the wife, the mother, and the mistress. In her, if the meekness of Christ be
added to the softness of her sex-if the wisdom which is from above be added
to natural sagacity and prudence,-if the love of God be combined with that
to her husband, she will, by Divine grace, be an inestimable blessing to her family. She will soothe the cares of her husband, she will increase his substance,
she will be a most effectual assistant in carrying on the instruction and government of the family, in which she will promote affection, regularity, and happiness; she will almost entirely bear its cares, and prepare its joys; she will
encourage the faith and hope of every individual within it, and will walk with
them as an heir of the grace of life."-p. 117.
4' Nor must the importance of servants in the estimate of family happiness,
be at all overlooked, for when they are of such as fear the Lord, they
are a signal blessing to the family. In vain are the most magnificent palaces
erected at the most enormous expense; in vain are they stored with all the
profusion which the possession of wealth can suggest, and adorned with all the
grandeur which the pride of rank can justify; in vain are they surrounded with
all the pomp of greatness, and distinguished as the resort of the fashionable
and the gay; with all these advantages, small, very small indeed, will be the
comfort of their lords, if all the while the servants are perverse, vexatious, and
dishonest."-pp. 118, 119.
But this author does not confine himself to any one range of
topics. In some of his sermons he has selected a leading doctrine
of Christianity, and in his illustration of it he gives his reader the
full advantage of that bold and extensive style of thinking by
which he places familiar truths in a new attitude and throws over
them the light of novel and original illustration. He has escaped
from that monotony of observation, into which the training of a
scholastic orthodoxy has drawn so many of our theologians. He
is uniformly scriptural; and it does not appear that he has uttered
a single sentiment of which the most jealous and inquisitorial Calvinism can disapprove. But he betrays none of that fearfulness,
none of that cautious keeping within the limits of a defined representation, which we suspect to have had a cramping and frigorific influence on much of our modern preaching. He expatiates
with all the freeness of a mind at ease on the subject of orthodoxy; not because he disdains or refines any one of its articles,
but because, incorporated as they are with his general habit of
thinking, he feels about them all the repose of a most secure and
inviolable attachment.   There is accordingly, even when employed upon some peculiarity of the Christian faith, little of the
tone of controversy, and no anxious setting off of his own doctrinal
accuracy, to be met with; but with a mind evidently cast in the
mould of evangelical truth, he oversteps all the abridged and compendiary systems of theology, and feels himself free to expatiate
on a rich and variegated field of observation.
The above remark was forcibly suggested to us by the perusal
of that sermon in which Dr. J. treats of the power of Christ to
forgive sins. It has been denominated one of the greatest secrets




AND WRITTEN LANGUAGE.                  175
of practical godliness, to combine a reigning sense of security in
the forgiveness of sin with an earnest and an operative sentiment
of abhorrence at sin itself. The believing contemplation of Christ,
according to the real character which belongs to Him, resolves
this mystery; and we felt as if a new flood of light was bursting
in upon our mind on this subject by that power and liveliness of
exhibition which characterize the sketches of our original and adventurous author. In the compass of a single paragraph, he has,
to our satisfaction, given a convincing and impressive view of the
link, by which justification and sanctification are riveted in the
person of the same individual into one close and indissoluble alliance. He inquires into the kind of power that is requisite for the
forgiveness of sins. It cannot be a power to dispense with the
authority of the law. It cannot be a power to make the law bend
to the criminal. It cannot be a power to frustrate the object of
the law. And none therefore can have power to remit the sentence of the law upon the offender, but he who can magnify it and
make it honorable; he who can uphold it in the immutability of
all its sanctions; and, at the same time, he who can so turn and so
subdue the personal character of the offender, that in virtue of the
change of heart and of inclination which has taken place upon
him, there might be a real security established for his future respect and obedience to all the commandments. It serves to magnify every idea of the exquisite wisdom which presided over the
plan of our redemption, when we think how all this power meets
in Christ: in Him who took upon His own person the punishment
that we should have borne; in Him  who, descending from His
place of glory, has exalted the law by putting Himself under the
weight of its indispensable sanctions; in Him who has at the
same time had such a power committed to Him, that He can revolutionize by the Spirit which is at his giving, the whole desires
and principles of those who believe in Him, so that they shall love
the law of God, and delight in rendering to it all honor and all
obedience. Contemplating this last as essential to the power of
awarding forgiveness, it will dispose us cordially to go along with
the whole process of sanctification, to perceive that the great Mediator must renew those for whom he has secured acceptance
with God before He has completed His undertaking upon them;
and that in fact we are not the subjects of His mediation unless
we are prosecuting diligently the renewal of heart and of mind,
and submitting ourselves faithfully to all the requirements of holiness. But on this subject let our author speak for himself.
C" From what we have now seen of the nature of forgiveness of sins, it will
be evident, that the person who undertakes to exercise this power should first
of all be inflexibly just. The law of God is a charter of rights. With the
preservation of that charter, everything dear to God and valuable to man is
eternally connected. To permit the law to bend to the criminal here, would be
attended with consequences of injustice, fatal beyond all calculation. Further,




176                DIFFERENCE BETWEEN SPOKEN
with inflexible justice, the person who undertakes to dispense forgiveness should
be possessed of wisdom sufficient to determine whether, if sin should be forgiven,
the object of the law could be secured, and supreme love to God, and disinterested love to man be maintained. He must moreover possess a power over the
law, to suspend, alter, and reverse its sentence, which supposes a power superior to law, even to the law of God. He must also have such power with God
as to prevail with Him to lay aside His anger, and to receive the criminal,
when forgiven, into His favor. The human heart must be in his hand, and under his control, so as he may be able to expel one train of thoughts and opinions,
and to induce another; to take away one set of passions, and dispositions, and
to impart others; and, in fact, to alter the whole nature, character, and conduct of man. He must have so complete a dominion over Satan, as to be able
to bind and dispose of him at his will. All human events must be under his
absolute direction, so as not only to create prosperity and adversity, but to produce from them such impressions as he may require. He must have power
over conscience itself, to make it speak, and speak with effect, when he pleases
and how he pleases. To death he must be able to say come, and it shall come,
go, and it shall go, and to make its valley dark or light, the portal of Heaven,
or the gate of hell, as he shall appoint. Such must be the power of his command, that in obedience to it, the grave must surrender the prey which it has
retained for ages. To him it must belong to open and shut when he pleases
the bottomless pit, and effectually to command the waves of the lake that
burneth with fire and brimstone, to recede or advance as he may appoint. Under his control must be the gates of the New Jerusalem, to open and none be
able to shut, to shut and none be able to open, with the cherubim and the seraphim, and all the host which is within them; at his disposal must be thrones
and dominions, principalities and powers, and all the happiness, and all the
grandeur of the world of glory. In short, however great the power of any
Being may be, unless it is infinitely just and wise, and placed with a controlling
energy over the law of God, and has prevaling influence with God Himself,unless it is equal to the government of the world, and death, and the grave, and
heaven and hell,-in one word, unless it be the power of God, it is not a
power adequate to the remission of the punishment of sin: for nothing less than
this is the power requisite to forgive sins on earth."-pp. 143-5.
It may be said of Dr. Jones, that he is not an every-day writer
of sermons. There is a certain intrepidity about him, both in his
selection of topics, and in the free and original way in which he
handles them. He possesses a mind stored with a variety of imagery and of information; and this circumstance enables him delightfully to blend with his illustrations of scriptural doctrine both
the truths of science, and all that is most pleasing and attractive
in the contemplations of poetry. We are quite sensible however,
that in the exhibition he is now making before the public, he feels
himself to be upon ceremony, and accordingly he has put the exuberance of' his fancy under evident chastisement and restraint.
There does not appear to be that power and vivacity of illustration, nor that copiousness of allusion, nor that fearless application
of the lessons of philosophy and experience, nor that excursive
boldness and variety of remark, which are well known to signalize his extemporaneous oratory, and by which he makes himself
highly interesting and impressive to his hearers. Still, however,
though in print he falls beneath his own habitual excellence in the
pulpit, he retains so much of his peculiarity and of his power, as




AND WRITTEN LANGUAGE.                   177
places him far above the tame, insipid, servile monotony of ordinary sermon-writers.  And from the volume before us, were we
to multiply extracts, we might present our readers with many
specimens of a mind that can soar above the region of commonplace, and expatiate in the field of its own unborrowed light, and
originate its own spontaneous ingenuities, and without disguising
or even so much as throwing a shade over any of the substantial
prominences of the Gospel, adorning the whole of its doctrine by
such sallies of illustration, as any powerful mind which draws
from its own resources, and disowns the authority of mrodels, is
able to throw into any track of contemplation over which it may
happen to pass.
There are some people possessed with such notions about the
simplicity of the truth as it is in Jesus, that the very appearance
of originality alarms them. But it by no means necessarily follows that a writer on practical Christianity is, every time that he
stretches his ingenuity, working out a laborious deviation from
what is useful and applicable to the familiarities of human conduct
and human sentiment. Every attempt to be wise above that which
is written, should be discouraged, as being opposed to the spirit
both of piety and of true philosophy. But still there is room for
the exercise of our best and our highest faculties in the attempt to
be wise up to that which is written; nor do we think that any fair
conclusions drawn fiom such premises as are supplied by the
written record, can be unprofitable for our instruction in righteousness. In his sermon on the " Doctrine of Salvation the Study
of Angels," Dr. Jones has given us a happy example of the use to
which a subject apparently remote from the powers of human
contemplation, may be turned. In his reflections on the utility of
the truth contained in his text, he has said, and said powerfully
and irresistibly, as much as should rescue the doctrine of Salvation from unworthy treatment, and give it a dignity in the eyes of
men. And we consider this as one out of several examples in
which the author before us has even in his boldest and loftiest
flights gathered a something to strengthen our more ordinary impressions, and to enforce and illuminate the duties of our more ordinary practice; and without that slenderness of effect which the
refinement of our over-wrought contemplation sometimes leaves
behind it, he often succeeds by a novelty which marks his every
tract of sentiment and observation in augmenting and perpetuating the influence of what is most palpable in the lessons of the
New Testament.,, Many deem the doctrine of Salvation low, mean, vulgar, and worthless;
and they attempt to vindicate their conduct by saying with the unbelieving
Jews, which of the scribes or rulers, which of the highly esteemed or dignitaries of our church, make it the theme of their beautiful addresses or fine harangues? Which of our celebrated men of science, discrimination, and taste,
even amongst ecclesiastics, make it the object of their study, or the subject of
23




178                DIFFERENCE BETWEEN  SPOKEN
their discourse? Does not the preaching of this salvation provoke contempt
and scorn, and expose it to the resistless, overwhelming, degrading imputation
of methodism and fanaticism? And yet angels, fascinated by its charms, suspending their studies of nature and their lofty pursuits in Heaven, descend
from the celestial world to look into the salvation of Jesus; and whilst they
look, they discover new beauties and new wonders incessantly arise, which continually kindle a desire again to look and continue the research. They bend and
again they bend their lofty minds, and cannot quit the object; and by their
conduct they seem to unite in sentiment with St. Paul, when he said,' Yea,
doubtless, and I count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge
of Christ Jesus my Lord.'  Yes! angels are captivated by the doctrines of
salvation, which rnen presume to neglect; and archangels admire with rapture
what men affect to despise. Surely this should convince them of their folly,
discover to them the evils of their ways, and rescue the doctrine of salvation
from such unworthy treatment."-pp. 288-9.
We trust that the following extracts will both vindicate and exemplify all that we have said in our attempts to sketch the characteristic merits and peculiarities of this author.', While Christ ascended, His heart overflowed with love; His countenance
beamed benignity; His lips uttered blessings; His hands dispensed grace.
Whilst He ascended, His sacred person was clothed with the robes of light
and immortality. He made the clouds His chariot, and He rode on the wings
of the wind. A scene in every respect so sublime and so grand, was never
before, nor never since exhibited to men or to angels. He shall so come in like
manner, visibly, majestically, in the sight of the general assembly and church
of the first born, with shouts, with the voice of the archangel, and the trump
of God, attended by the cherubim and the seraphim, and all the heavenly host;
His heart overflowing with love; His countenance beaming benignity; His
lips uttering blessing; His hands dispensing glory; His sacred person clothed
with the robes of light and immortality, making the clouds His chariot, and
riding on the wings of the wind.  When He had overcome the enemies which
in the days of His humiliation opposed Him, He ascended to dispense judgment. When He shall have overcome all His enemies, He shall so come in
like manner to judge the quick and the dead: to erect His awful tribunal; and
to summon before it the whole human race; and to render eternal life or everlasting death to each man, according as his work shall be. There are two
laws of nature which, like all its operations, are very simple in themselves, but
mighty and wonderful in their effects. The one is that of attraction, by which
one particle unites or coheres to another.  The other is that of gravitation, by
which things have a tendency to fall to the centre of the earth. By these two
principles, God preserves in their appointed situation and order, animals. and
vegetables, and minerals, and the sea, and the dry land, and rivers, and mountains; by these he firmly binds together all the atoms which compose the world,
and girds the solid globe. By the same lawvs He both directs the motions, and
preserves the order of the sun, and the moon, and the planetary orbs. But
when our Lord ascended, Ile evinced His authority and power over these laws;
He burst their mighty chains, and in opposition to their most powerful restraints,
He rose from earth and soared above the ethereal heavens. In like manner,
He shall so come. He shall dissolve the bonds of gravitation, and the sun, and
the moon, and the stars, shall fall; the mountains shall remove: and the rivers
shall fail; and the sea shall be dried up; and the solid globe shall be rent
asunder in every direction. He shall untie the cords of attraction, and particle shall separate from particle, and atom from atom, and the whole world shall
fall to pieces, and shall be no more. Thus the same Jesus who was taken up
into Heaven, shall so come in like manner as he was seen to go into Heaven."
-pp. 235-7.




AND WRITTEN LANGUAGE.                     179
" We ought not to waste our time in idle speculations.  When Elisha was
favored with witnessing the ascension of Elijah, the chariots of fire and the
horses of fire having conveyed him out of his sight, he gathered up the mantle
which had fallen from that great prophet,.and hastening to the banks of Jordan,
he smote the waters and passed between the divided parts of the stream, stopped not till he arrived at Jericho, and instantly began to discharge the duties
of his office. But when the disciples of our Lord were permitted to witness
His ascension, and to behold the cloud receive Him out of their sight, they lingered on the spot; they stood still; they steadfastly looked up; they gazed;
thoughts arose in their breasts, and questions started in their minds, which they
seemed inclined to indulge. Whither is He gone? What change has taken
place upon Him?  What is He now doing? They were on the verge of a
thousand idle speculations, fraught with ten thousand dangerous errors. There
is a point to which speculation may advance with safety, when it tends to enlighten the mind with truth, to season the heart with grace, and to rouse the
active powers to holy conduct. But beyond this, it is vain, it is forbidden, it
is fatal to proceed. At this point, the disciples of our lord had at this moment
arrived. To prevent their going beyond it, angels interposed:' Ye men of
Galilee,' said they.  why stand ye gazing?' The moments of speculation are
over, and the time for action is come."-pp. 240-1.
We now take leave of Dr. Jones, with remarking that his volume bears the evidence of one who has not accustomed himself
much to the practice of correct or elegant composition. He has
evidently read much, but what he has excogitated for himself
forms a far more abundant portion of his intellectual wealth, than
what he has appropriated from others. It would appear as if the
power and facility of his unwritten language had made him so independent of the ordinary means of conveyance by which a minister transfers the product of his own mind to the minds of his
people, that his views, and his thoughts, and his modes of illustration, are no sooner conceived, than he is able to transfer them at
once upon his hearers through the channel of contemporaneous
communication. We have no doubt that in this way much powerful eloquence, and much solid instruction, and many felicities of
thought and of expression, which were worthy of being preserved,
are destined to be forgotten in the course of a few vears, and so
to perish forever fromn the remembrance of the world. We are
glad, however, that the public have been presented with such a
memorial of the author, as that which he has now furnished; and
if we think it is not an adequate representation of all the talents
and accomplishments of him who has produced it, yet we feel
confident that it is calculated to extend the usefulness of Dr. Jones,
as well as to advance his reputation beyond the narrow circle of
his own auditory.




REMARKS
ON
CUVIER'S THEORY OF THE EARTH;
IN EXTRACTS FROM
A REVIEW  OF THAT THEORY
WHICH WAS CONTRIBUTED TO
"THE CHRISTIAN INSTRUCTOR"
IN 1814.
"IT is not our object to come forward with a full analysis of
the theory of Cuvier. The appearance of the work has afforded
matter of triumph and satisfaction to the friends of revelation,
though, in these feelings, we cannot altogether sympathize with
them. It is true that his theory approximates to the information
of the book of Genesis more nearly than those of many of his
predecessors; and the occasional exhibitions which appear in the
course of his pages, have the effect at least of stamping the character of a disinterested testimony upon his opinions. This leads
us to anticipate the period when there will be a still closer coincidence between the theories of geologists and the Mosaical history of the creation. It is well that there is now a progress to
this object; that the chronology at least of Moses begins to be
more respected; that a date so recent is ascribed to the last great
catastrophe of the globe, as to make it fall more closely upon the
deluge of the book of Genesis; and when we recollect the eloquence, and the plausibility, and the imposing confidence with
which a theorist of the day has magnified the antiquity of the
present system, we shall henceforth be less alarmed at anything
in the speculations, either of Cuvier or of others, which may appear to bear hard upon the credit of the sacred historian."
" He assigns no distinct cause for the earth's revolutions, and
leaves us utterly at a loss about the nature of that impelling principle, which gives rise to the sweeping and terrible movements




CUVIER S THEORY OF THE EARTH.             181
that are thought to take place in the waters of the ocean. We
expected something from him upon this subject under the article
of Astronomical Causes of the Revolutions on the Earth's Surface: nor has he chosen to advert to the theory of Laplace, though
in our apprehension, it would have imparted a great addition of
plausibility to the whole speculation.
"It is to the diurnal revolution of the earth round its axis, that
we owe the deviation of its figure from a perfect sphere. The
earth is so much flattened at the poles, and so much elevated at the
equator, that, by the mean calculations upon this subject, the
former are nearer to the centre of the earth than the latter by
thirty-five English miles. What would be the effect then, if the
axis of revolution were suddenly shifted? If the polar and equinoctial regions were to change places, there would be a tendecy
towards an elevation of so many miles in the one, and of as great
a depression in the other, and the more transferable parts of the
earth's surface would be the first to obey this tendency."
" But it is not necessary to assume so entire a change in the position of the earth's axis, as to produce a difference of thirtyfive miles in any of the existing levels, nor would any single impetus, indeed, suffice to accomplish such a change. The transference of the poles from their present situation by a few degrees,
would give rise to a revolution sudden enough, and mighty enough
for all the purposes of a geological theory; and a change of level
by a single quarter of a mile, would destroy the vast majority of
living animals, and create such a harvest of fossil remains, as
would give abundant employment to a whole host of future speculators."'Now, we have two observations to offer on the said theory;
one in the way of a humble addition, and the other in the way of
an apology for it.
"First, from the planets moving all nearly in circular orbits, it
is more likely that they have done so from the very commencement of their revolutions, than that they started at first with very
unequal eccentricities, and have been reduced to orbits of almost
similar form by the shocks which each of them individually sustained from comets. Assuming then, that originally the orbits
were nearly circular, how comes it that they remain so, in spite
of those numerous impulses, which the theory of Laplace, combined with the allegation of Cuvier that the catastrophes on the
earth have been frequent, necessarily implies? Whether the impulse be in the line of the earth's motion, which it may very
nearly be with a few of the comets. or whether it cross that line
at a considerable angle, which would be the direction of the impulse with the great majority of them, still we cannot conceive
from the great velocity of the impelling body, how the planet can
avoid receiving fiom the shock, and far more from the repetition
of it, such a change in its eccentricity, as would have given us at




182            CUVIER S THEORY OF THE EARTH.
this moment a planetary system made up of bodies moving in
very variously elongated ellipses. The way of evading this objection, is to reduce the momentum of the comet, by assigning to
it as small a density as will suit the purpose; but small as it may
be, there is momentum enough, according to the hypothesis of
Laplace, to change.the position of the earth's axis. A repetition
of such impulses upon the different planets in every conceivable
variety of direction, would, in time, give rise to a very wide dissimilarity in their orbits; and the fact, that such a dissimilarity
does not exist, militates against that indefinite antiquity, which the
deifiers of matter ascribe to the present system.
" But again, it does not appear to us, that the theory of Laplace
is insufficient to account for the highly inclined position of strata,
which may have been deposited horizontally. By the conceived
impulse of a comet, the earth receives a tendency to a change of
figure. This can only be produced by the motion of its parts, and
a force acting on these parts is put into operation. Who will
compute the strength of the impediment which this force may not
overcome, or say in how far the cohesion of the solid materials
on the surface of the globe will be an effectual resistance to it?
Mav not this force act in the very way in which Cuvier expresses the operation of his catastrophe? May it not break and overturn the strata? And will it not help our conceptions to suppose,
that masses of water, struggling in the bowels of the earth for
a more elevated position, may have force enough to burst their
way through the solid exterior, and tainting and mingling with the
old ocean, may annihilate all the marine animals of the former
era? Of the flood of the book of Genesis, we read that the fountains of the great deeps were broken up, as well as that the windows of heaven were opened.
" We feel vastly little either of confidence or satisfaction, in any
of these theories. It is a mere contest of' probabilities; and an actual and well established testimony should be paramount to them
all.  We hold the testimony of Moses to supersede all this work
of conjecture; and we shall presently take up the subject of that
testimony, and inquire in how far it goes to confirm, or to falsify
the speculations of this volume.
"The qualifications of M. Cuvier as a comparative anatomist,
give a high authority to his opinion on the nature of the fossil remains, and the kind of animals of which they form a part. His inquiries in this volume are confined to the remains of quadrupeds; and
the most amusing, and perhaps the soundest argument in the whole
book, is that by which he unfolds his method of constructing the
entire animal from some small and solitary fragment of its skeleton. We were highly gratified with his discussion upon this sub* It is remarkable that the original word for the deep corresponds, according to Dr.
Campbell, in one of its significations. with the New Testament hades, conceived to be
situated in the interior of the earth.




CUVIER S THEORY  OF THE EARTH.                      183
ject, nor can we resist the desire of imparting the same gratifica.
tion to our readers, by the following extract:
"' Fortunately, comparative anatomy, when thoroughly understood, enables us
to surmount all these difficulties, as a careful application of its principles instructs us in the correspondence and dissimilarity of the forms of organized
bodies of different kinds, by which each may be rigorously ascertained from
almost every fragment of its various parts and organs.
"Every organized individual forms an entire system of its own, all the parts
of which mutually correspond, and concur to produce a certain definite purpose, by reciprocal reaction, or by combining towards the same end. Hence
none of' these separate parts can chance their forms without a corresponding
change on the other parts of the same animal, and consequently each of these
parts taken separately, indicates all the other parts to which it has belonged.
Thus, as I have elsewhere shown, if the viscera of an animal are so organized
as only to be fitted for the digestion of recent flesh, it is also requisite that the
jaws should ibe so constructed as to fit them for devouring prey; the claws
must be constructed for seizing and tearing it to pieces; the teeth for cutting
and dividing its flesh; the entire system of the limbs, or organs of motion, for
pursuing and overtaking it; and the organs of sense, for discovering it at a distance. Nature also must have endowed the brain of the animal with instincts
sufficient for concealing itself, and for laying plans to catch its necessary
victims.
"Such are the universal conditions that are indispensable in the structure of
carnivorous animals; and every individual of that description must necessarily
possess them combined together, as the species could not otherwise subsist.
Under this general rule, however, there are several particular modifications, depending upon the size, the manners, and the haunts of the prey for which each
species of carnivorous animal is destined or fitted by nature; and, from each
of these particular modifications, there result certain differences in the more
minute conformations of particular parts; all, however, conformable to the
general principles of structure already mentioned. Hence it follows, that in
every one of their parts we discover distinct indications, not only of the classes
and orders of animals, but also of their genera, and even of their species.
" In fact, in order that the jaw  may be well adapted for laying hold of
objects, it is necessary that its condyle should have a certain form; that the
resistance, the moving power, and the fulcrum, should have a certain relative
position with respect' to each other; and that the temporal muscles should be
of a certain size.  The hollow or depression, too, in which these muscles are
lodged, must have a certain depth; and the zygomatic arch under which they
pass, must not only have a certain degree of convexity, but it must be sufficiently strong to support the action of the masseter.;To enable the animal to carry off its prey when seized, a correspondent
force is requisite in the muscles which elevate the head; and this necessarily
gives rise to a determinate form of the vertebrae to which these muscles are
attached, and of the occiput into which they are inserted.'"In order that the teeth of a carnivorous animal may be able to cut the
flesh, they require to be sharp, more or less so in proportion to the greater or
less quantity of flesh that they have to cut.  It is requisite that their roots
should be solid and strong, in proportion to the quantity and the size of the bones
which they have to break in pieces.  The whole of these cicumstances must
necessarily influence the development and form of all the parts which contribute to move the jaws.," To enable the claws of a carnivorous animal to seize its prey, a considerable degree of mobility is necessary in their paws and toes, and a considerable
strength in the claws themselves. From these circumstances, there necessarily
result certain determinate forms in all the bones of their paws, and in the dis.




18,4              CUVIER'S THEORY OF THE EARTH.
tribution of the muscles and tendons by which they are moved. The fore-arm
must possess a certain facility of moving in various directions, and consequently
requires certain determinate forms in the bones of which it is composed. As the
bones of the fore-arm are articulated with the arm bone or humerus, no change
can take place in the iorm and structure of the former, without occasioning
correspondent changes in the form of the latter.  The shoulder-blade also, or
scapula, requires a correspondent degree of strength in all animals destined for
catching prey, by which it likewise must necessarily have an appropriate form.
The play and action of all these parts require certain proportions in the muscles
which set them in motion, and the impressions formed by these muscles must
still farther determine the forms of all these bones.
"' After these observations, it will be easily seen that similar conclusions may
be drawn with respect to the hinder limbs of carnivorous animals, which require particular conforrmations to fit them for rapidity of motion in general; and
that similar considerations imust influence the forms and connections of the vertebrae and otler bones constituting the trunk of the body, to fit them for flexibility and readiness of motion in all directions.  The bones also of the nose, of
the orbit, and of the ears, require certain forms and structures to fit them for
giving perfection to the senses of smell, sight and hearing, so necessary to animals of prey.  In short, the shape and structure of the teeth regulate the forms
of the condyle, of the shoulder-blade, and of the claws, in the same manner as
the equation of a curve, regulates all its other properties; and as in regard to any
particular course, all its propierties may be ascertained by assuming each separate
property as the foundation of a particular equation; in the same manner a claw,
a shoulder-blade, a condyle, a leg or arm bone, or any otherbone, separately considered, enables us to discover the description of teeth to which they have belonged; and so also reciprocally we may determine the forms of the other bones
from the teeth. Thus, commencing our investigation by a careful survey of any
one bone by itself, a person who is sufficiently master of the laws of organic struc.
ture, may, as it were, reconstruct the whole animal to which that bone belonged.
" This principle is sufficiently evident, in its general acceptation, not to require any nmore minute demonstration; but when it comes to be applied in
practice, there is a great number of cases in which our theoretical knowledge
of these relations of forms is not sufficient to guide us, unless assisted by observation and experience.
i" For examplle, we are well aware that all hoofed animals must necessarily
be herbivorous, because they are possessed of no means of seizing upon prey.
It is also evident, having no other use foir their fore-legs than to support their
bodies, that they have no occasion for a shoulder so vigorously organized as
that of carnivorous animals; owing to which they have no clavicles or acromion processes, and their shoulder-blades acre proportionally narrow.  Having
also no occasion to turn their fore-arms their radius is joined by ossification to
the ulna, or is at least articulated by the gynglymus with the humerus. Their
food beings entirely herbaceous, requires teeth with flat surfaces, on purpose to
bruise the seeds and plants on which they feed. For this purpose also, these
surfaces require to be unequal, and are consequently composed of alternate
perpendicular layers of hard enamel and softer bone.  Teeth of this structure neicessarily require horizontal nmotions, to enable them to triturate or grind
down the herbaceous food; and, accordingly, the condyles of the jaw could not
be formed into such confined joints as in the carnivorous animals, but must have
a flattened form, correspondent to sockets in the temporal bones, which also are
more or less flat for their reception.  The hollows likewise of the temporal
bones, having smaller muscles to conltain, are narrower, and not so deep, &c.
All these circumstances are deducible from each other, according to their
greater or less generality, and in such manner that some are essentially and exclusively appropriated to hoofed quadrupeds, while other circumstances, though
equally necessary to that description of animals, are not exclusively so, but may




CUVIER'S THEORY OF THE EARTH.                     185
be found in animals of other descriptions, where other conditions permit or require their existence.
" When we proceed to consider the different orders or subdivisions of the
class of hoofed animals, and examine the modifications to which the general
conditions are liable, or rather the particular conditions which are conjoined, according to the respective characters of the several subdivisions, the reasons
upon which these particular conditions or rules of conformation are founded become less evident. We can easily conceive, in general, the necessity of a more
complicated system of digestive organs in those species which have less perfect
masticatory systems; and hence we may presume that these latter animals require especially to be ruminant. which are in *rant of such or such kinds of
teeth; and may also deduce, from the same considerations, the necessity of a
certain conformation of the Tsophagus, and of corresponding forms in the vertebrae of the neck, &c. But I doubt whether it would have been discovered,
independently of actual observation, that ruminant animals should all have
cloven hoofs, and that they should be the only animals having that particular
conformation; that the ruminant anilnals only should be provided with horns
on their foreheads; that those among them which have sharp tusks, or canine
teeth, should want horns, &c.
"As all these relative conformations are constant and regular, we may be assured that they depend upon some sufficient cause; an(l since we are not acquainted with that cause, we must here supply the defect of theory by observation, and in this way lay do)wn empirical rules on the subject, which are almost
as certain as those deduced from rational principies, especially if established upon
careful and repeated observation.  Hence, any one who observes merely the
print of a cloven hoof, may conclude that it has been left by a ruminant amimal,
andl regard the conclusion as equally certain with any other in physics or in
morals.  Consequently, this single foot-mark clearly indicates to the observer
the forms of the teeth, of the jaws, of the vertebrae, of all the leg-bones, thighs,
shoulders, and of the trunk of the body of the animal which left the mark. It
is much surer than all the marks of Zadig.  Observation alone, independent
entirely of general principles of philosophy, is sufficient to show that there
certainly are secret reasons for all these relations of which I have been speaking.
". WVhen we have established a general system of these relative conformations of animals, we not only discover specific constancy, if the expression may
be allowed, between certain forms of certain organs, and certain other forms of
different organs; we can also perceive a classified constancy of conformation,
and a correspondent gradation between these two sets of organs, which demonstrate their mutual influence upon each other, almost as certainly as the most
perfect deduction of reason. For example, the masticatory system is generally
more perfect in the non-ruminant hoofed quadrupedls than it is in the clovenhoofed or ruminant qua(lrupeds; as the former possess incisive teeth, or tusks,
or almost always both of these, in both jaws.  The structure also of their feet
is in general more complicated, having a greater number of toes, or their phalanges less enveloped in the hoof, or a greater number of distinct metacarpal
and metatarsal bones, or more numerous tarsal bones, or the fibula more completely distinct from  the tibia; or, finally, that all these enumerated circumstances are often united in the same species of animal.," It is quite impossible to assign reasons for these relations; but we are certain that they are not produced by mere chance, because, whenever a clovenhoofed animal has any resemblance in the arrangement of its teeth to the animals we now speak of, it has the resemblance to them also in the arrangement
of its feet. Thus camels, which have tusks, and also two or four incisive
teeth in the upper-jaw, have one additional bone in the tarsus, their scaphoid
and cuboid bones not being united into one; and have also very small hoofs
with corresponding phalanges, or toe-bones.  The musk animals, whose tusks
are remarkably conspicuous, have a distinct fibula as long as the tibia; while
24




186              CUVIER S THEORY OF THE EARTH.
the other cloven-footed animals have only a small bone articulated at the lower
end of the tibia in place of a fibula. WVe have thus a constant mutual relation
between the organs of conformations, which appear to have no kind of connection with each other; and the gradations of their forms invariably correspond,
even in those cases in which we cannot give the rationale of their relations.
"By thus employing the method of observation, where theory is no longer
able to (lirect our views, we procure astonishing results. The smallest fragmnent of bone, even the most apparently insignificant apophysis, possesses a
fixed and determinate character, relative to the class, order, genus and species
of the animal to which it belonged; insomuch, that when we find merely the
extremity of a well-preserved bone, we are able, by careful examination, assisted bIy analogy and exact comparison, to determine the species to which it once
belonged, as certainly as if we had the entire animal before us. Before venturing to put entire confidence in this method of investigation, in regard to fossil
bones, I have very frequently tried it with portions of bones belonging to wellknown animals, and always with such complete success that I now entertain
no doubt with regard to the results which it afibrds. I must acknowledge that
I enjoy every kind of advantage for such investigations that could possibly be
of use, by my fortunate situation in the Museum of Natural History; and, by
assiduous researches for nearly fifteen years. I have collected skeletons of all
the genera and sub-genera of quadrupeds, with those of many species in some
of the genera. and even of several varieties of some species. With these aids,
I have found it easy to multiply comparisons, and to verify, in every point of
view, the application of the foregoing rules."-pp. 90-102.
"Now, this is a most interesting specimen of Mi. Cuvier.  It
bespeaks the tone and the habit of a philosopher, and is well calculated to gain a favorable hearing, if not an authority, to all his
other speculations. But it is quite true that a man may excel in
one department of investigation, and fall short in another; and
none more ready than the antemosaical philosophers, who oppose
him, to exclaim, that, though M. Cuvier be a good anatomist, it
does not follow that he is a geologist. Now we profess to be
neither the one nor the other.  The science of our professional
department is different from  both, and all that we ask of the geological infidels of the day is, that they will do us the same justice
in reference to their speculations, that they take to themselves in
reference to MI. Cuvier. A man may be a good geologist, and be
able to construct as good a system as the mineralogical appearances around him enable him to do. But this system is neither
more nor less than the announcement of past facts, and geology
forms only one of the channels by which we may reach them.
But there are other channels, and the most direct and obvious of
them all to the knowledge of the past is the channel of history.
The recorded testimony of those who were present or nearer than
ourselves to the facts in question, we hold to be a likelier path to
the information we are in quest of, than the inferences of a distant
posterity upon the geological phenomena around them, just as an
actual history of the legislation of old governments, is a trustier
document than an ingenious speculation on the progress and the
principles of human society.  You protest against the knife and
demonstrations of the anatomist as instruments of no authority in




CUVIER S THEORY OF THE EARTH.             187
your department.  We protest against the hammer of the mineralogist and the reveries of the geologian, as instruments of no authority in ours. You think that Cuvier is very slender in geology,
and that he has been most unphilosophically rash in leaving his
own province, and carrying his confident imaginations into a totally different field of inquiry. We cannot say, that you are very
slender in the philosophy of history and historical evidence, for it
is a ground you scarcely ever deign to touch upon. But surely
it is a distinct subject of inquiry.  It has its own principles, and its
own probabilities. You must pronounce upon the testimony of
Moses on appropriate evidence. It is a testimony of a witness
nearer than yourselves to the events in question; and if it be a
sound testimony, it carries along with it the testimony of a Being
who was something more than an actual spectator of the creation.
He was both spectator and agent. And yet all that mighty train
of evidence which goes to sustain the revealed history of God's
administrations in the world, is by you overlooked and forgotten;
and while you so readily lift the cry against the unphilosophical
encroachment of foreign principles into your department, you
make no conscience of elbowing your own principles into a field
which does not belong to them.
"But it is high time to confront the theory of our geologist with
the sacred history-with a view both to lay down the points of
accordancy, and to show in how far we are compelled to modify
the speculation, or to disown it altogether.
" First, then, it is so far well that Cuvier admits the very last
catastrophe to have been so recent, and accomplished too like all
his former catastrophes, by the agency of water. The only modification we have to offer here is, that whereas Cuvier represents
it to be an operation of so violent a nature as to agitate and displace everything that was movable-we guess, from the history,
that an olive tree was still standing, and not lying loosely on
the ground, with part of its foliage. If we are correct in our assumption as to the specific gravity of the olive tree, it would, if
separated from the soil, have been borne up on the surface of the
water-and in that case the circumstance of a leaf being recently
plucked or torn from the tree, would have been no indication whatever of the waters being abated from off the earth.
"Again, the researches of MI. Cuvier present us with no fact
militating against the recent creation of the human species. It
has been said to be the subject of a recent discovery-but at the
time of writing this volume, M. Cuvier could assert that no human remains had been hitherto discovered among the extraneous
fossils. This he holds to be a decisive proof, that man did not
exist in those countries where the fossil bones of other animals are
to be found. This is no proof, however, that he did not exist in
some other quarters of the globe antecedent to the last or any
given number of catastrophes. He may have been confined to




188           CUVIER'S THEORY OF THE EARTH.
some narrow regions which escaped the operation of the catastrophe, from which he issued out to repeople the new formed
land; or, the fossil remains of the human species, may exist in
the bottom of the present ocean, and remain concealed from observation till some new catastrophe lay them open to the inquirers
of' a future era. But this is all gratuitous, and must give way to
the positive information of authentic history.'" There is one very precious fruit to be gathered out of those
investigations, an argument for the exercise of a creative power,
more convincing perhaps than any that can be drawn from the
slender resources of natural theism. If it be true, that in the
oldest of the strata, no animal remains are to be met with, marking out an epoch anterior to the existence of living beings in the
field of observation-if it be true that all the genera which are
found in the first of the peopled strata are destroyed-if it be true
that no traces of our present genera are to be met with in the early
epochs of the globe,-how came the present races of animated
nature into being? It is not enough to say, that like man they
may have been confined to narrower regions, and escaped the operation of the former catastrophes, or that their remains may be
buried under the present ocean. Enough for our purpose, that
they could not have existed from all eternity. Enough for us the
fact, that each catastrophe has the chance of destroying, or does
in fact destroy a certain number of genera. If this annihilating
process went on from eternity, the work of annihilation would
long ago have been accomplished, and there is not a single species
of living creatures that could have survived the multiplicity of
chances for its extinction afforded by an indefinite number of catastrophes. If then there were no replacement of new genera,
the face of the world would at this moment have been one dreary
and unpeopled solitude; and the question recurs, how did this replacement come to be effected? The doctrine of spontaneous
generation we believe to be generally exploded; and there is not
a known instance of an animal being brought into existence, but
by means of a previous animal of the same species. The transition of the genera into one another is most ably and conclusively
contended against by the author before us, who proves them to be
separated by permanent and invincible barriers. Between the
one principle and the other the commencement of a new genera
is totally inexplicable on any of the known powers and combinations of matter, and we are carried upwards to the primary link
which connects the existence of a created being with the fiat of
the Creator.
i But, generally speaking, geologists are not guilty of disowning the act of creation. It is in theorizing on the manner of the
act, (and that too in the face of testimony which they do not attempt to dispose of,) that they make the most glaring deviation
from the spirit and principles of the inductive philosophy. We




CUVIER S THEORY OF THE EARTH.             189
hIave no experience in the formation of worlds. Set aside revelation, and we cannot say whether the act of creation is an instantaneous act, or a succession of acts; and no man can tell whether
God made this earth and these heavens in a moment of time, or in
a week, or in a thousand years, more than he can tell whether the
men of Jupiter, if there be any such, live ten years or ten centuries. Both questions lie out of the field of observation; and it is
delightful to think, that the very principle which constitutes the
main strength of the atheistical argument, goes to demolish all
those presumptuous speculations, in which the enemies of the
Bible attempt to do away the authority of the sacred historian.'The universe,' says Hume,'is a singular effect;' and we therefore can never know if it proceeded from the hand of an intelligent Creator. But if the Creator takes another method of making
us know, the very singularity of the effect is the reason why we
should be silent when he speaks to us; and why we, in all the humility of conscious ignorance, should yield our entire submission
to the information he lays before us. Surely, if without a revelation, the singularity of the effect leaves us ignorant of the nature
of the cause, it leaves us equally ignorant of the modus operandi
of this cause. If experience furnish nothing to enlighten us upon
this question,' Did the universe come from the hand of an intelligent God?' it furnishes as little to enlighten us upon the question,'IDid God create the universe in an instant, or did he do it in seven
days, or did he do it in any other number of days that may be specified?' These are points which natural reason, exercising itself
upon natural appearances, does not qualify us to know; and it
were well if a maxim, equally applicable to philosophers and to
children, were to come in here for our future direction,' that what
we do not know we should be content to learn;' and if a revelation, bearing every evidence of authenticity, undertakes the office of
informing us, it is our part cheerfully to acquiesce, and obediently
to go along with it.
" On this principle we refuse to concede the literal history of
Moses, or to abandon it to the fanciful and ever-varying interpretations of philosophers. We have to thank the respectable editor
of this work, Mr. Jameson, for his becoming deference to the authority of the Jewish legislator, and his no less becoming and
manly expression of it. But we cannot consent to the stretching
out of the days, spoken of in the first chapter of Genesis, into
indefinite periods of time. We fear that the slower revolution of
the earth round her axis, is too gratuitous to make the admission of
it at all consistent with the just rules of philosophizing; and there
is, therefore, no other alternative left to us, but to take the history
just as it stands. We leave it to geologists to judge, whether our
concluding observations allow them room enough for bringing
about a consistency between the first chapter of Genesis and their
theories. In the meantime, we assert that the history in this




190            CUVIER S THEORY OF TIIE EARTH.
chapter, maintains throughout an entire consistency with itself; a
consistency which would be utterly violated, if we offered to allegorize the days, or to take them up in any other sense than that
in which they obviously and literally present themselves. What
shall we make of the institution of the Sabbath, if we surrender
the Mosaic history of the creation? Is it to be conceived, that the
Jews would understand the description of Moses in any other
sense than in the plain and obvious one? Is it to be admitted,
that God would incorporate a falsehold in one of His commandments, or at least prefer a reason for the observance of it which
was calculated to deceive, and had all the effect of a falsehood?
We cannot but resist this laxity of interpretation, which if suffered
in one chapter of the Bible, may be carried to all of them. may
unsettle the dearest articles of our faith, and throw a baleful uncertainty over the condition and the prospects of the species.
"' We have heard it preferred as an impeachment against the
consistency of the Mosaic account, that the day and night were
made to succeed each other antecedently to the formation of the
sun. This is very true; but it was not antecedent to the formation of light; it was not antecedent to the division of the light
fiom the darkness; it may not have been antecedent to the formation of luminous matter: and though all this matter was not assembled into one body till the fourth day, it may have been separated and made to reside in so much greater abundance in one
quarter of the heavens than in the other, as to have given rise to
a region of light and a region of darkness.  Such an arrangement
would, with the revolution of the earth's axis, give rise to a day
and a night. Enough for the purpose of making out this succession, if the light formed on the first day was unequally dispersed
over the surrounding expanse, though it was not till this light was
fixed and concentrated in one mass, that the sun could be said to
rule the day.
" And here let it be observed, that it does not fall upon the defenders of Moses to bring forward positive or specific proofs for
the truth of any system reconcilable with his history, beyond the
historical evidence of the history itself. A thousand systems may
be devised, one of which only can be true, but each of which may
be consistent with all the details of the book of Genesis. We
cannot, and we do not offer any one of these systems as that
which is to be positively received, but we offer them all as so many
ways of disposing of the objections; and while upon us lies the bare
task of proposing them, upon our antagonists lies the heavy work of
overthrowing them all before they can set aside the direct testimony of the sacred historian, or assert that his account of the creation is contradicted by known appearances.
"' We crave the attention of our readers to the above remark;
and, satisfied that the more they think of it, the more will they be




CUVIER S THEORY OF THE EARTH.             191
impressed with its justness, we spare ourselves the task of bestowing upon it any further elucidation.
" We conclude with adverting to the unanimity of geologists in
one point,-the far superior antiquity of this globe to the commonly
received date of it, as taken from the writings of Moses.  What
shall we make of this?  We may feel a security as to those points
in which they differ, and, confronting them with one another, may
remain safe and untouched between them. But when they agree,
this security fails. There is no neutralization of authority among
them as to the age of the world; and Cuvier, with his catastrophes
and his epochs, leaves the popular opinion nearly as far behind
him, as they who trace our present continent upward through an
indefinite series of ancestors, and assign many millions of years to
the existence of each generation.
" Should the phenomena compel us to assign a greater antiquity
to the globe than to that work of days detailed in the book of Genesis, there is still one way of saving the credit of the literal history.
The first creation of the earth and the heavens may have formed
no part of that work. This took place at the beginning, and is
described in the first verse of Genesis. It is not said when this
beginning was.  We know the general impression to be, that it
was on the earlier part of the first day, and that the first act of
creation formed part of the same day's work with the formation
of light. We ask our readers to turn to that chapter, and to read
the first five verses of it. Is there any forcing in the supposition,
that the first verse describes the primary act of creation, and leaves
us at liberty to place it as far back as we may; that the first half
of the second verse describes the state of the earth (which may
already have existed for ages, and been the theatre of geological
revolutions) at the point of time anterior to the detailed operations
of this chapter; and that the motion of the Spirit of God, described
in the second clause of the second verse, was the commencement
of these operations?  In this case the creation of the light may
have been the great and leading event of the first day; and Moses may be supposed to give us not a history of the first formation
of things, but of the formation of the present system; and as we
have already proved the necessity of direct exercises of creative
power to keep up the generations of living creatures; so Moses
may, for anything we know, be giving us the full history of the
last great interposition, and be describing the successive steps by
which the mischiefs of the last catastrophe were repaired.
" I take a friend to see a field which belongs to *e, and i give
him a history of the way in which I managed it. In the beginnin( I inclosed that field. It was then in a completely wild and
unbroken state. I pared it. This took up one week. I removed
the great stones out of it. This took up another week. On the
third week, I entered the plough into it: and thus, by describing
the operations of each week, I may lay before him the successive




192            CUVIER'S THEORY OF THE EARTH.
steps by which I brought my field into cultivation. It does not
strike me that there is any violence done to the above narrative, by
the supposition that the inclosure of the field was a distinct and
anterior thing to the first week's operation. The very description
of its state after it was inclosed, is an interruption to the narrative
of the operations, and leaves me at liberty to consider the work
done after this description of the state of the field as the whole
work of the first week. The inclosure of the field may have
taken place one year, or even twenty years before the more detailed improvements were entered upon.
1" The first clause of the second verse is just such another interruption; and it is remarkable, that there is no similar example of
it in describing the work of any of the following days, so as to divide one part of the day's work from the other. It is true, that, in
some cases, it is said that God saw it to be good; but there is no
imperfection ascribed to anything, as it resulted immediately from
the creating power. It is always said to be good in that state in
which it came directly out of his hand; and if in the second verse,
it is said of the earth, not that it was good, but that it was without
form and void; this may look not like a description of its state
immediately after it came out of the hand of God, but of its state
after one of those catastrophes which geologists assign to it. It
is further remarkable, that there is a unity in the work of each of
the five days. The work of the second day relates only to the
firmament; of the third day, to the separation of sea and land; of
the fourth day, to the formation of the celestial bodies; of the
fifth, to the creation of the sea; and of the sixth, to that of land
animals. This unity of work would be violated on the first day,
if the primary act of creation were to form part of it; and the
uniformity is better kept up by separating the primary act from
all the succeeding operations, and making the formation and division of light, the great and only work of the first day.
"6 The same observation may apply to all the celestial bodies
that are visible to this world. The creation of the heavens may
have taken place as far antecedently to the details of the first
chapter of Genesis, as the creation of the earth.  It is evident,
however, that if the earth had been at some former period the fair
residence of life, she had now become void and formless; and if
the sun and moon and stars at some former period had given light,
that light had been extinguished.  It is not our part to assign the
cause of a catastrophe which carried so extensive a destruction
along with it9 but he were a bold theorist indeed, who could assert, that, in the wide chambers of immensity, no such cause is to
be found. A thousand possibilities may be devised, each of which
is consistent with the literal history of Moses; and though it is not
incumbent on the one party to bring forward any one of these
possibilities in the shape of a positive announcement, each of them




CUVIER S TIIEORY OF THE EARTH.            193
must be overthrown by the other before that history can be abandoned; and it will be found, that while the friends of the Bible are
under no necessity to depart from the sober humility of the inductive spirit, the charge of unphilosophical temerity lies upon its oppc nents."
215




SPEECH
DELIVERED
IN THE GENERAL ASSEMBLY OF 1833,
ON A
PROPOSED MODIFICATION O0F THE LAW OF PATRONAGE.
I Do not participate in the confidence of those who seem quite
assured that the abolition of patronage, or a change in its law, is
to usher in for us some great and speedy regeneration, or to be
the stepping-stone, as it were, to a blissful millennium in the
country and in the Church. I must confess myself to be not so
sanguine; nor have I any great faith in the efficacy of a renovated constitution for bringing onward a renovated spirit, a renovated character, either among our ministers or among our people.
It seems to me like the problem of the best construction for a
house, with the misfortune, at the same time, of having nothing
but frail materials to build it with; in which case, the study of
the fittest proportions for durability and strength will be of little
avail to us. I am not denying that there is an optimism of form
in ordinary architecture, and that there is also an optimism of
form in the architecture of an ecclesiastico-political fabric, if we
knew but how to find it-an absolutely best and most perfect framework, to be obtained by somehow altering the present relation of
its parts, and fixing on other adjustments of proportion and power,
between the men of the congregation, and the men of the session,
and the men of the presbytery, and, last of all, the man whom it
is now proposed to remove altogether from the place which he at
present occupies on the apex of the structure, and who has so long
held the initial, and a great deal too much of an absolute, voice in
the appointment of churches. By these changes, power will be
differently partitioned, and the constitution forced into a different
sort of body-politic from before; but it ought ever to be kept in
mind, that we have nothing after all but poor human nature to
piece and to build it with, and that with such materials we in vain
expect to make good our escape from corruption, merely ky passing from one form to another. It is for this reason that, however




ON A PROPOSED MODIFICATION, ETC.            195
much I may sympathize with many of my friends in my wishes
ior a pure and efficient Church, I do not sympathize with them in
the extravagance of their hopes. I will not be party to the delusion that our Church is necessarily to become more Christian, by
the constitution of it becoming more popular; or by the transference of its authority from the hands of the few to the hands of
the multitude. I do not see how the one is an unfailing corollary
to the other; or how you are to get quit of the evils incidental,
I fear, to all sorts of human patronage, merely by multiplying the
number of human patrons. Multiplication, I ever understood, told
only on the amount of the things to which it was applied, and not
upon the character or kind of them. It results in a greater number of apples, but has no power to change them into apricots.
Now, my fear is, that if utterly powerless for the transmutation of
fruit, it is just as powerless for the transmutation of humanity.
Our arithmetical reformers, who look to this mere arithmetic of
theirs for the revival of our Church, are looking, I fear, to the
wrong quarter for our coming regeneration. They but exchange
one human confidence for another, placing it on a broader and
more extended basis than before, but still on a basis of earthliness.
It is a confidence which I cannot share in; nor do I comprehend
how it is that, with minds so firmly, so undoubtedly made up, they
count on a mere enlargement of the ecclesiastical franchise, as the
high-road to the spiritual enlargement of the Church, to the
increase and mighty resurrection of its vital godliness. They are
forgetting all history and all observation.  They are not looking
even to the present state of those numerous dissenting bodies
which, under a system of popular election, though retaining the
form of sound words, have become-spiritually dead; or, if they
still own any fire and fervor at all, it is but the fervor of earthly
passions, the fire of fierce and unhallowed politics. Neither are
they recollecting those numerous Presbyterian churches in England, which, under the same system, have even cast the form of
sound words away from them, and lapsed into Scocinianism; or
the Presbyterian church in the north of Ireland, where, with that
very constitution of the patronage which is held up as a specific
against all sorts of evil, a large proportion both of the ministers
and congregations lapsed into Arianism. But I hold it a far more
serious inadvertency than this, that so many of my best friends
should be looking, and with an anticipation quite unwavering and
unclouded, to a sort of latter-day glory, and that on the steppingstone of a mere constitutional reform, -a transference of power
from the patrons to the people, or from one portion of our depraved human nature to another. Let them have a care, in all
this unquailing confidence of theirs, lest they should become unmindful of the rock whence both patrons and people are hewn,
lest they should be forgetting their orthodoxy, and forgetting their
Bibles.




190             ON A PROPOSED MODIFICATION
This does not supersede the question of the best constitution
for the appointment of ministers to parishes, while it may help, I
do think, to remove an obscuration which rests upon it. The
truth is, that a prevalent error, on all the sides of the controversy
respecting the better and the worse systems of patronage, is, that
we are perpetually imagining a corrupt exercise of the power in
the party with whom our antagonists are for vesting it; while we
overlook the equal possibility of a corrupt exercise in the party
with whom we are for vesting it ourselves. The enemies of the
present system have constantly present to their minds the idea of
a reckless and unprincipled patron, a case which has been too
often verified. When in mitigation of the evil, it is alleged that
the church have the power-the unlimited power, as I think-of
rejecting the presentee, this is met by the conception of a Presbytery or a General Assembly, actuated by a haughty contempt for
the popular taste, even when that taste is in unison with all that
is most characteristic and peculiar in the Gospel of Jesus Christ:
and this certainly is a case which may also be verified. Well,
then, to make good our escape from these polluted quarters, let
us suppose this power, both in the patron and in the church, to be
done away, and an authority paramount to either vested in the
suffrages of the people,-is it now, I would ask from every man
of Christian integrity, or even of common observation, —is it now
that we shall have found a secure asylum for the cause of truth
and piety, in a region of ethereal purity of incorrupt and heavenborn principle? I speak not of popular ignorance; but I speak
of the wrong and the wayward influences which might, so easily,
be brought to bear on the popular will. I speak of their extreme
facility to the solicitations of interested applicants, or urgent and
interested advisers; and of the wild-fire rapidity wherewith a
petition borne from house to house, and prosecuted with address
and activity through a parish, might obtain a majority of signatures. It is very true there might be, and often is, a graceless
patron, and it is just as true that there might be a graceless presbytery; but I would ask the advocates of universal suffrage, if there be
no chance or possibility whatever, when their panacea comes to
be applied, that the appointment of a minister may fall into the
hands of a graceles population? But, apart from their want of
grace, and with a much higher respect for the popular understanding than I believe is generally entertained, I do apprehend them
exceedingly liable to be precipitated or betrayed into an unfortunate appointment through downright gullibility —insomuch that
the so-called popular election might just resolve itself into the
oligarchy of a few, or perhaps into the sovereign and directing
will of but one individual. A people occupied with labor; not in
circumstances for a leisurely, and comprehensive, and complete
view of all parts of a subject; withal open to sudden impulses, and to
be overborne by the influence of candidates, and the friends of can



OF THE LAW OF PATRONAGE.                197
didates, are exceedingly apt to make a wrong outset, and irrecoverably commit themselves to an unfortunate choice. I should not anticipate a good series of appointments by laying the first step in the
choice of ministers upon the congregation-the way, I do think, to
begin with anarchy, and to end in virtual patronage. I think there
is good reason why, in every instance, there should, whether express
or implied, be a gregarious consent; but in no instance, I apprehend,
is it good that the initial movement should be a gregarious one.
The question then is, On whom should the burden of this initial
movement be laid? or, in other words, Who is to originate the
specific proposition of a minister for filling up the vacancy? Had
we to begin de novo, there might have been room for the agitation of various plans and various expedients. But I must confess
that, whenever it can be done consistently with substantial justice to the people, or the substantial good of the Church, my inclination is to the existing state of things, or to avail ourselves as
much as possible of the existing machinery. And certain it is,
that, between the two kinds of patronage-the ostensible patronage of the present system, and that disguised patronage which operates with a force as resistless, though unseen, under the forms
of a popular election —I would never once think of comparing the
likelihood of a good result, in as far as that shall depend on the
sense which each possessor of the power has of his own responsibility, before the eyes of a vigilant and interested public, who are
anxiously looking on. A presentation by any existing patron is a
distinct and noticeable act, clearly referable to the quarter whence
it has come, and laying upon him who has issued it the whole burden of the disgrace or dissatisfaction,which ensues, on the event
of an appointment, either obnoxious at the time, or which shall
turn out ill afterwards. The patron, again, who lurks unseen
amid the recesses of a parochial community, and who, through
the countless ramifications of his influence there, is really and in
effect the master of the nomination, is shielded from the reproach
of a worthless appointment, under the semblance of that free constituency by whose voice it has been declared; which constituency, in fact, take the reproach upon themselves, and feel it to be
light when thus divided among all, with many countenances to
face and many shoulders to bear it. It is thus, I believe, that the
weight of the public mind could be brought to bear more wholesomely, and with a greater force of concentration, on the patron as
at present constituted, than, under the system of popular election,
it could be brought to bear either on the oligarchy or head-man
of a parish; and this is not altogether a matter of reasoning; for,
in so far, it has become of late, and that most palpably, a matter of
experience. Patrons never acted more under the control of opinion than they do at this moment; and it is to be hoped that, along
with this, there may be also the operation of a higher principle.
But the question now respects the admission of the people to a




198             ON A PROPOSED MODIFICATION
larger influence than before; and it is an important aspect of the
question, that, even anterior to any constitutional changes, this influence, we venture to say, has been prodigiously increased; for
never, for a century back, has the known disposition of the parish
told more powerfully than at the present moment on the determination of the patron. The public will has of late arisen to the might
and the mastery of a giant force amongst us; and it were well if a
wisdom, powerful to direct, should appear to guide that uplifted
hand which is so powerful to destoy. The misfortune, and often the
fatal mischief, is, that, in the waywardness of these new-found energies, the favorite exercise is to demolish, rather than to animate
or control-not to try, in the first instance, what is best to be done
with our institutions as they are, with the things standing in their
places, but to begin with the work of remodelling society by an
instant and universal displacement. In this disposition to attack
the machinery itself, rather than attempt to regulate and rectify
its movements, we arenot to wonder if the cry should be to abolish patronage, rather than impress a wholesome direction on it.
This has manifested itself in other and greater questions than that
of patronage, as by those who, instead of seeking but the amelioration of our establishment, are now meditating their deadly aim
at its existence —thereby exemplifying the general tendency, on
every sudden enlargement to the force and freedom of the popular will, the tendency to lay hands on all the ready-made instruments of usefulness, not for the purpose of wielding them  to a,
greater public good or service than before, but for the purpose,
with the wanton destructiveness of children loosened from restraint, of breaking them in pieces. Better a public astir and
awake to every great interest, than in a dead calm or state of
lethargy, did it but amount to such an impulse on the vessel as might
bear it safely and prosperously onward. I should rejoice in the
breeze; but I stand in dread of the hurricane.
Let me here remark, that though the First Book of Discipline
vests the initiative in the people, this never seems to have been
regularly acted on, or at least for a very brief period in the history of the Scottish Church.  The truth is, that it had only the
vacancies of eighteen years in which it could be exemplified; for
by this time the First Book of Discipline, which never was ratified
by Parliament, was matured into the Second Book  f) Discipline,
when. in 1578, the initiative was differently ordered. Never, I
believe, in modern Christendom, did a church effectuate a greater
transformation on the character and state of any people, than did
the Church of Scotland, in two distinct periods, which might well
be termed the two golden ages of our Church, on the people of
Scotland; and that, on each occasion, in the space of about half a
generation-I mean from 1638 and 1690, during which periods, it is
to be observed, although the power of consenting or objecting lay
with the people, the initiative was vested in another and a distinct




OF THE LAW OF PATRONAGE.                199
quarter, first in the session, and secondly, in the session and heritors. Could it be clearly made out, or did I confidently anticipate,
that any Christian good would be effected by the transference of
this initiative from its present into other hands, I should the more
readily give into it; but having no such anticipation, I should prefer the improvement that was brought about in such a way as to
yield the greatest amount of vital and substantial benefit, with
the least amount of disturbance from external or constitutional
changes. I am aware of the theoretical partiality which many
of my friends have for the whole system of our ministerial appointments being out and out ecclesiastical, which it would be if,
as by the act of Assembly 1649, the nomination were vested in
the session, and the power of objecting in the people, and the final
judgment, where these two parties were at variance, in the Presbytery. Even the act of Parliament, 1690, by which the nomination is vested, not in the elders alone, but in the elders and heritors, might be accommodated to this theory by the single qualification of heritors being communicants. Whether the same
qualification applied to our existing patrons, that they should be
in communion with the church, and so within our own ecclesiastical pale, and under our own ecclesiastical control,-whether
this would reconcile them more to the present system of patronage, I do not know. But however much we may differ respecting the initiative, I not only feel inclined to go as far, but would
even go farther than the advocates, either for the act of Parliament 1690, or for the act of Assembly 1649, respecting the safeguard or the check. The great complaint of our more ancient
Assemblies, the great burden of Scottish indignation, the practical grievance which, of all others, has hitherto been felt most intolerable and galling to the hearts of a free and religious people,
is the violent intrusion of ministers upon parishes. An effectual
provision against this enormity, this unfeeling outrage, which in
Ahe exercise of a reckless and unprincipled patronage has so often
been perpetrated in our beloved land, an outrage, by the appointment of an ungodly pastor, on the rights of conscience and the
religious sensibilities of a sorely aggrieved people,-a provision
against so deep and so wide a moral injury as this to the families
of a parish, I should feel the most valuable of all the legislative
expedients or devices which could be proposed on the present occasion, and would welcome it all the more cordially if we had not
to go in quest of it without the limits of our actual ecclesiastical
constitution; or, in other words, if, instead of enacting a new
law, we had but to declare our interpretation of an old one. Now
the law of calls places such a facility in our hands; and as I feel
I must not take up the time of the Assembly, let me state at once,
and without farther preamble, my own preference as to the best
way of restoring significancy and effect to this now antiquated,
but still venerable form,-and this is by holding the call a solid




200             ON A PROPOSED MODIFICATION
one which lies, not in the expressed consent of the few, and these
often the mere driblet of a parish: but larger than this, which
lies in the virtual or implied consent of the majority, and to be
gathered from their non-resistance or their silence. In other words,
I would have it that the majority of dissentient voices should lay
a veto on every presentation.
In this power of a negative on the part of the people there is
nothing new in the constitution or practice of the Church of Scotland. It is the great barrier, in fact, set up by the wisdom of our
forefathers against the intrusion of ministers into parishes. It
could make no appearance in the First Book of Discipline, 1560,
where it was provided that the people should have the initiative,
or that the ministers should be appointed, not with their consent,
but by their election. But after the probation of eighteen years,
we have the Second Book of Discipline 1578, where the election
is made to proceed by the judgment of the eldership and with
the consent of the congregation, and care is expressed that "no
person be intrusit contrar to the will of the congregation, or
without the voice of the eldership." This interdict by the people
is farther recognized and ratified in the act of Assembly 1649,
and of Parliament 1690. It is, in fact, the appropriate, the counterpart remedy against the evil of intrusion. If we hear little of
the application or actual exercise of this remedy during the times
it was in force, it was because of a great excellence, even that
pacific property which belongs to it of acting by a preventive
operation. The initial step was so taken by the one party as to
anticipate the gainsayers in the other. The goodness of the first
appointment was, in the vast majority of instances, so unquestionable as to pass unquestioned; and so this provision, by its reflex
influence, did then what it would do still,-it put an end to the
trade of agitation. Those village demagogues, the spokesmen
and oracles of a parish, whose voice is fain for war, that in the
heat and hubbub of a parochial effervescence, they might stir up
the element they love to breathe in, disappointed of their favorite
game by a nomination which compelled the general homage, had
to sheathe their swords for lack of argument. It was like the
beautiful operation of' those balancing and antagonist forces in
nature which act by pressure and not by collision, and, by means
of an energy that is mighty, but noiseless, maintain the quiescence
and stability of our physical system. And it is well when the action and reaction of these moral forces can be brought to bear
with the same conservative effect on each other in the world of
mind, whether it be in the great world of the state or in the little
world of a parish. And the truth, the historical truth, in spite of
all the disturbance and distemper which are associated with the
movements of the populace, is, that turbulence and disorder were
then only let loose upon the land, when this check of the popular
will was removed from the place it had in our ecclesiastical con



OF THE LAW OF PATRONAGE.                201
stitution, and where it was inserted so skilfully by the wisdom of
our fathers; that, instead of acting by conflict, or as a conflicting
element, it served as an equipoise. It was when a high-handed
patronage reigned uncontrolled and without a rival, that discord
and dissent multiplied in our parishes.  The seasons immediately
succeeding to 1649, and 1690, when the power of negation was
lodged with the people, not, however, as a force in exercise, but
as a force in reserve,-these were the days of our church's
greatest prosperity and glory, the seasons both of peace and of
righteousness. Persecution put an end to the one period, and unrestricted patronage put an end to the other.
But the last element in the composition of this affair, and to
which I have scarcely yet adverted, is the power of the church.
For let the ancient privilege of a negation be again given to the
people, and there will come to be a tripartite operation ere a minister shall be fully admitted into a parish-not a business, however,
unmanageably complex on that account, else whence the rapid,
and smooth, and practicable working of the British legislature?
And here the question at once occurs, whether shall the objection
taken to the presentee by the majority of the people be submitted
for review to the Presbytery, as by the acts of 1649 and 1690, or
shall it be held conclusive so as without judgment by us to set
aside the presentation?  My preference is for the latter, and I
think that I can allege this valid reason for it. The people may
not be able to state their objection save in a very general way, and
far less be able to plead and to vindicate it at the bar of a Presbytery, and yet the objection be a most substantial one notwithstanding, and such as ought, both in all Christian reason and Christian
expediency, to set aside the presentation. I will not speak of the
moral barrier that is created to the usefulness of a minister by the
mere general dislike of a people-for this, ththough strong at the
outset, may, literally a prejudice or a groundless judgment beforehand, give way to the experience of his worth and the kindness
of his intercourse amongst them. But there is another dislike
than to the person of a minister,-a dislike to his preaching,
which may not be groundless, even though the people be wholly
incapable of themselves arguing or justifying the grounds of itjust as one may have a perfectly good understanding of words, and
yet, when put to his definitions, not be at all able to explain the
meaning of them. This holds pre-eminently of the Gospel of
Jesus Christ, manifesting its own truth to the consciences of men,
who yet would be utterly nonplussed and at fault, did you ask
them to give an account or reason for their convictions. Such is
the adaptation of Scripture to the state of humanity —an adaptation which thousands might feel. though not one in the whole multitude should be able to analyze it. When under the visitations of
moral earnestness, when once brought to entertain the question of
his interest with God, and conscience tells of his yet uncancelled
26




~202            ON A PROPOSED MODIFICATION
guilt, and his yet unprovided eternity-even the most illiterate of
a parish might, when thus awakened, not only feel most strongly,
but perceive most intelligently and soundly, the adjustment which
obtains between the overtures of the New Testament and the
necessities of his own nature. And yet, with a conviction thus
based on the doctrines of Scripture and the depositions of his own
consciousness, he, while fully competent to discern the truth, may
be as incompetent as a child to dispute or to argument it, and
when required to give the reasons of his objection to a minister
at the bar of his Presbytery, all the poor man can say for himself
might be, that he does not preach the Gospel, or that in his sermon there is no food for his soul. It were denying the adaptation
of Christianity to human nature, to deny that this is a case which
may be often and legitimately realized. With a perfect independence on the conceits and the follies, and the wayward extravagance or humors of the populace, I have, nevertheless, the profoundest respect for all those manifestations of the popular feeling
which are founded on an accordancy between the felt state of hu
man nature and the subject matter of the Gospel; and more espe
cially, when their demand is for those truths which are of chief
prominency in the Bible, and let us add, in the Confessions and
Catechisms of our Church-and their complaint, their sense of
destitution, is from the want of a like prominency in sermons.
But in very proportion to my sympathy and my depth of veneration for the Christian appetency of such cottage patriots, would
be the painfulness I should feel when the cross-questionings of a
court of' review were brought to bear upon them; and the men,
bamboozled and bereft of utterance by the reasonings which they
could not redargue, or, perhaps, the ridicule which they could not
withstand, were left to the untold agony of their own hearts —because within the Establishment which they loved, they could not
find, in its Sabbath ministrations or week-day services, the doctrine which was dear to them. To overbear such men is the highway to put an extinguisher on the Christianity of our land,-the
Christianity of our ploughmen, our artisans, our men of handicraft
and of hard labor; vet not the Christianity theirs of deceitful imagination, or of implicit deference to authority, but the Christianity of deep, I will add, of rational belief, firmly and profoundly
seated in the principles of our moral nature, and nobly accredited
by the virtues of our well-conditioned peasantry. In the olden
time of Presbytery-that time of scriptural Christianity in our
pulpits, and of psalmody in all our cottages-these men grew and
multiplied in the land; and though derided in the heartless literature, and discountenanced or disowned in the heartless politics of
other days, it is their remnant which acts as a preserving salt
among our people, and which constitutes the real strength and
glory of the Scottish nation.
I beg to apologize for having occupied so much of the time of




OF THE lAW OF PATRON'AGE.              203
the Assembly, and would only now say, in conclusion, that, while
on the whole I am inclined to prefer to any other change or abolition I have heard of, the continuance of the existing patronage,
with a veto by the majority of the people, I would desire to be
understood, that in all I have expressed, I have done it with the
feeling of much diffidence; and if there be a firm certainty in my
mind at all, on any single point connected with this argument, it
is only of one thing,-that no good result will come, even from
the likeliest of our mere outward and constitutional arrangements,
apart from the personal Christianity, be they patrons, or ministers,
or people, of those among whose hands the working of this newformed mechanism is to be shared.  The frame-work of our
Church may be better moulded, and its parts put into goodlier
adjustment than before; but, like the dry bones in the vision of
Ezekiel, even when reassembled into the perfect skeleton, and invested, by a covering of flesh and skin, with the perfect semblance
and beauty of a man-so our Church, even when moulded into
legal and external perfection by human hands, may have all the
inertness of a statue, and with the monumental coldness of death
upon it, till the Spirit of God shall blow into it that it may live. I
confess that, on the one hand, I sit more loose to the constitutional
question, when I think that, from the hands of Christianized patrons, heaven can make the rich blessing of an efficient ministry to
descend upon us; and that, on the other, I cannot partake in the
vaulting confidence of many of my brethren, when I think that,
in the hands of an unchristian people, a church may wither into
spiritual destitution, bereft of all her graces and all her godliness.
We occupy a singular position between the nobles and the population of the land; and I will not say but that the Christian independence of the Church is in just as great danger from the one
quarter as from the other. I have the satisfaction of thinking that,
even in the days of most arbitrary and unrestricted patronage, I
ever contended for the Church's independence; and that, however unquestionable the right of the legal patron who signed the
presentation, it was our unscathed prerogative to sit in judgment
on the qualifications of the presentee-not in the limited sense
either of moral or literary qualifications, but on all qualifications,
in the most general meaning that could be affixed to the category,
on the qualis in counterpart to the talis, on the qualis minister for
the talis populus, or if such was the minister who ought to be appointed to such a parish, for the Christian good of its families.
The due administration of such a power might have disarmed
almost any system of patronage of its mischiefs; and, on the other
hand, there is no system, whether of patronage or of popular election, that will ever work prosperously without the pure and the
righteous exercise of it. And, therefore, whatever changes the system of our patronage is to undergo, I trust the Church will never
let down the function which belongs to her: and as on questions




204          ON A PROPOSED MODIFICATION, ETC.
of principle she has often withstood the presentations that were
signed by the patron, so, on the same questions, that she will continue to withstand presentations, however signed by the patron,
and however countersigned by the people —great in her virtuous
opposition to the princes and the potentates of the earth; and
greater still, if ever called to such a combat-greater still in her
virtuous independence, whether of the frowns or the hosannas of
the multitude.-I conclude with proposing the following motion:
-" That the General Assembly having maturely weighed and
considered the various overtures now before them, do find and declare, that it is, and has been ever since the Reformation, a fixed
principle in the law of this Church, that no minister shall be intruded into any pastoral charge, contrary to the will of the congregation; and considering that doubts and misapprehensions have
existed on this important subject, whereby the just and salutary
operation of the said principle has been impeded, and in many
cases defeated, The General Assembly further declare it to be
their opinion, that the dissent of a majority of the male heads of
families resident within the parish, being members of the congregation, and in communion with the Church, at least two years
previous to the day of moderation, whether such dissent shall be
expressed with or without the assignment of reasons, ought to be
of conclusive effect in setting aside the presentee (under the patron's nomination), save and except where it is clearly established,
by the patron, presentee, or any of the minority, that the said dissent is founded in corrupt and malicious combination, or not truly
founded on any objection personal to the presentee in regard to
his ministerial gifts or qualifications, either in general, or with reference to that particular parish; and in order that this declaration may be carried into full effect, that a committee shall be appointed to prepare the best measure for carrying it into effect
accordingly, and, to report to the next General Assembly "




A
FEW THOUGHTS
ON THE
ABOLITION OF COLONIAL SLAVERY,
IT must be still fresh in the remembrance of many, that the
efforts of the British public, for the abolition of the Slave Trade,
created the liveliest alarm in the minds of' those who were connected, either by trade or by property, with the West Indies.
And now that the measure has been carried into effect, and the
trial has been made for years, of finding the requisite labor without the importation of negroes fiom  abroad, it is palpable to all,
that the forebodings which were then awakened have not been
realized. That the West Indian interest has had to sustain reverses
and difficulties under the new system of things, is undoubted, but
these were not at all connected with the abolition of the Slave
Trade.  It is even the opinion of many proprietors, that an impulse of prosperity was given to our whole collonial system in
the west, by a measure which was regarded beforehand with all the
terror of an approaching dealh-blow; and that it ii fact warded
off the very extermination of which it was proclaimed to be the
harbinger. At all events, the dread imagination has turned out
to be a bugbear.  Both Liverpool and Glasgow have survived an
event which, in the belief of many, was to annihilate them; and
both are alike the living evidences of a native and inherent vigor
in commerce, that places it far above the need of such wretched
auxiliaries as either fraud or violence to sustain it.
* The following paper was prepared upwards of fourteen years ago, as a preface to
one of Mir. Clarkson's pamphlets, which was to have been put in circulation around the
neighborhood of Glasgow, by the Abolition Society that is instituted there. But the
process which I have ventured to recommend, does not altogether meet the views of
ma iy Abolitionists; and neither have I found that it meets, at every point, the views of
the West India planters. Nevertheless, there is at least a theoretical beauty in the process, which might, perhaps, gain for it some degree of attention; and as to the experi.
mental soundness of it, we have the testimony of Humboldt, who, in the course of his
travels through the Spanish part of South America, saw whole villages of emancipated
negroes, who had achieved their liberation in the way that is here delineated.
It should be understood, that our numerical details are given only for the purpose of
illustration.




206                THOUGHTS ON SLAVERY.
Another abolition is now in contemplation,-an abolition not of
the Slave Trade, but of slavery itself; and the perfect safety of
the first, seems to have had no effect in softening the dread or the
disquietude that is felt because of the second. There is a recent
pamphlet by Mr. Clarkson, that is well fitted to meet, and perhaps, to remove the apprehensions of the West India proprietors.
It is entitled, " Thoughts on the Necessity of Improving the condition of the Slaves in the British Colonies, with a view to their
ultimate Emancipation; and on the practicability, the safety, and
the advantage of the latter measure." He first addresses himself
to the question of right, and occupies sixteen pages with what
might be called the juridical part of his argument; which, perhaps, is neither so useful nor so convincing as are the statements
that follow, and throughout which he addresses himself to the interest of the slave-owners. By these statements he seems clearly
to prove the success wherewith large and even sudden emancipations have been already accomplished, besides the happy result of
certain partial experiments which have been made within the limits of the British colonies. The comparison, in point of cheapness, between free and forced labor, is particularly important; and,
on the whole, it is fondly hoped, that the perusal of this little
work, by the most eminent laborer in the cause, will serve both
to enlighten its friends, and to disarm the antipathy of its adversaries. It is worthy of especial notice, that he who is best fitted
to expound the views of the abolitionists, nowhere supposes that
the emancipation is to be immediate, or that the work is to be
done with a rash and rapid hand, but that in every step of the
preparation for this great event, regard should be had to the interest of the proprietor, as well as to the-comfort and principles of
the slaves.
It is mucl to be regretted, that the abolitionists and the planters have hitherto stood at such an impracticable distance from
each other; and more especially that a whole class of men, comprising in it many humane and accomplished individuals, should
have had such an indiscriminate stigma affixed to them, by the more
intemperate advocates of a good cause. There is a sacredness in
property, which a British Legislature, in that calm and equitable
spirit by which it is so honorably characterized, will ever hold in
reverence; and everything ought to be done consistently with
the great object of a full and final emancipation, to tranquillize
the natural fears of the slave-holders, and, it may be added. to
meet and to satisfy their natural appetite for justice. On the part
of the abolitionists, there is a frequent appeal to the abstract and
original principles of the question. But, on the part of the proprietors, it may be asked, who ought to be at the expense of reforming the mischief that has arisen from the violation of these
principles? —whether the traders who have hitherto acted under
the sanction and the shelter of existing laws, or the Government




.THOUGHTS ON SLAVERY.                 207
that framed these laws? —whether the party that have been lured
into a commerce which they found to be tolerated and protected
by the state, or the party that, by this very toleration, may be said
to have given their promise and their authority in its favor?whether the children who have been misled, or the parent who
has misled them?-whether, in a word, the men who have been
singled out for the execration of the public, or that same public,
under whose observation, and by whose connivance, the property
that they would now seize upon has been legalized, and its present possessors have made their sacrifices of time, and labor, and
money, to obtain it.  It were a noble achievement, this conversion of slaves into freemen; and therefore the more important for
its ultimate success, that, in every step of its prosecution, there
should be an even-handed justice to all the parties concerned.
More especially, would it serve to accredit the philanthropy that
is now so widely and so warmly embarked upon this undertaking,
did they who advocate its designs also bear their part in the expenses of them; and it would do much to allay the fermentation
that now is among the West India planters, could they have any
satisfying demonstration from Parliament, that, however intent on
the emancipation of their slaves, it should be so devised and carried into effect as not to infringe on the present worth of their
patrimony.
The following suggestion is the more valuable that it hath come
from a gentleman, who is himself a very extensive West India
proprietor; and that while it holds out a complete remuneration
to the owners of slaves, promises the conveyance of them into a
state of freedom with a speed and a safety that ought to satisfy
the most sanguine abolitionist.
The scheme may be expressed generally thus:-Let Government purchase from the West India proprietors. at a fair valuation, one day's labor in the week of all the slaves in their possession. This can be done by paying one-sixth of their whole price;
after which, each slave hath at least one day in every week, in
which he is a free laborer, and might earn for himself. He of
course becomes the absolute owner of what he thus earns; and
let it be competent for him, when it has accumulated to a sufficient sum, therewith to purchase, at a certain regulated price,
another free day in the week. Having thus two days to himself,
he is able to accelerate his future purchases of freedomn; and thus,
as the fruit of his own industry and care, might he, in a very few
years, work out his complete emancipation.
Or the scheme may be made still more intelligible, when illustrated by numbers. Let the whole slave population of the British
colonies be 800,000. At ~50 each, which is a high estimate when
thus made to include all ages, the sixth part of their whole value
to the owners is short of seven millions. By funding this sum to
the credit of the proprietors, one day's free labor to each slave




208                  THOUGHTS ON SLAVERY.
might become the universal law of the British West Indies. The
registry of slaves gives every facility for assigning the shares of
this stock to the respective proprietors, whether they be principals or mortgagees upon the estates. And when once this arrangement is made, a patent and a practicable way is opened for the full
deliverance of the negroes from a state of slavery. Whole gangs
are not unfrequently hired out at 3s. 4d. currency a-head per day,
and their maintenance: and there can be no doubt, from the difference between free and forced labor, that an ordinary working
slave could earn for himself, on the day that is his own, at least
3s. 4d. sterling.* This sum weekly is more than ~8 a year, or
about a sixteenth part, perhaps, of his whole value; and for which
last sum, therefore, he could, in less than three years purchase another free day each week. With the earnings of' two free days,
he could, in another three years, purchase two more, and then, in
a year and a half, could work out the freedom of his whole week,
or his entire emancipation. At all events, in seven or eight years,
each individual, if in health and full strength, could work out his
own deliverance from slavery; after which he might proceed to
do the same for others of his family, if he has one. The freedom
of a woman, when once accomplished in this way, would, by the
existing law, secure the freedom of all the children that are afterwards born by her; and this would be of prime importance in
extending the work of emancipation. The process is easily apprehended; and seemns to meet all the formidable difficulties, and
to combine all the most desirable advantages both to the slave and
to his proprietor.
For, first, in reference to the slave, his emancipation cannot take
effect till after he has been fully prepared for it, by the habits acquired during a long course of industry.  These habits fohm the
best guarantee of his fitness for the new state of freedom on which
he is to enter. And there is nothing sudden or desultory in this
transition.  I-Ie at first is made to taste of liberty by having one
day of it in the week; and this liberty can only be enlarged by
the good use that he makes of that which he has gotten. He at
length reaches the condition of entire freedom, by a process, the
very description of which is. in itself, the best proof of his being
a right subject for freedom, as well as the best preparation for it.
No artificial education that can possibly be devised, would answer
so well as this wholesome stimulus to exertion and good management.
But, secondly, the slave who idled his free time, whether in
sleep or in amusement, would of course make no further progress
towards a state of fieedom. He would live and die a slave because he chose to do so. They from whose liberty most danger
is apprehended, because of their idle or disorderly habits, would,
* It must be remarked, however, that free negroes are hired at rates which are exceedingly various in the different colonies.




THOUGHTS ON SLAVERY.                909
by the very tenure on which it was held out to them, be debarred
forever from the possession of it. And yet there can be little
doubt, that slavery'would rapidly decay and ultimately disappear
under such an economy. There would be a piece-meal emancipation going forward-a gradual substitution of free for forced
labor-an increase of regular and family habits —the growth of a
better constituted population-an experience, on the part of
planters, of the superior advantage of free labor, that would at
length incline them to forward the cause of emancipation, and establish such a common interest between the two extreme classes
in the colonies, as might ward off that threatened explosion which
has so long hung over them.
And, thirdly, were such a process established, there would be
an effectual protection to the colonies from the disquiet and the
disturbance of any other proposals for emancipation. For were
this object once set a-going in this one way, no other way could
or ought to be entertained for a moment. The slaves must, under
the system that is now recommended, be made conclusively to
understand, that it is by their own persevering labor and frugality,
and by this alone, that they are to make sure and speedy progress
towards the consummation to which they are so fondly looking
forward. Otherwise, the method is paralyzed. The industrious
slave, who might otherwise embark with ardor upon this attempt,
and persevere in it with unwearied constancy, and be cheered onwards by the brightening of his hopes, as he advanced nearer.
every week, to the fulfilment of them,-he would be quite distracted and disheartened did he know of other methods in agitation, by which the idlest of the gang might come to emancipation
as well as he, and all his labors have been rendered useless. It
were a sore provocation to him, that he had wrought so fatigueingly, and paid so faithfully for a deliverance, which at length
others had come at without any such expense, either of money or
of enjoyment. So that if this particular method shall be adopted,
it seems quite indispensable that all other methods, but those of
purchase, shall be finally closed. And it does seem no small recommendation of the plan in question, that while compensation
is thereby rendered to the planter for each of his slaves who is
liberated, it is done by a process which at once trains them for a
state of freedom, and confines them to the only safe and slow way
by which they become prepared for the full enjoyment of it.
And again, in reference to the planters, it is thought by many,
of such a proposal, that it is peculiarly accommodated to their interest. For, not to speak of the instantaneous satisfaction and calm
which it is fitted to impart to the now restless and ruffled mind of
the slave population —not to speak of its efficacy to rivet the most
energetic and intelligent amongst them to a pacific career of diligence and good conduct, instead of unsettling and throwing them
into dangerous excitement-not to speak of the union of inter27




210               THOUGHTS ON SLAVERY.
est and policy that is thus established between the master and the
more influential part of his laborers, who will now feel their interest to be at one with the peace and good order of the colony, and
to be separate from that of those who seek, by violence and
insurrection, the object which they are pursuing by a steady
course of industry and accumulation, —over and above these advantages, it is thought that, in this method, there is a peculiar
adaptation to the present exigencies of the trade. For, by it the
planter can disengage immediately one sixth of his capital in
slaves, and have the full command of it. Should he choose to
limit his West India business, he might transfer this capital to
other uses. Should he choose to keep it up to its present amount,
or even to extend it, he can have the fiee labor that will be
thrown by this measure upon the market. As the process advances, and the slaves begin to purchase additional days of freedom for themselves, there will be the successive withdrawment
of more capital-thereby enabling him to come gradually out of
the business altogether, or to perpetuate, and even enlarge it, according to circumstances. In this way, the market for colonial
produce may be lightened; or if there be encouragement, it may
be more abundantly supplied. A very likely diversion for a great
part of this free labor, would be to ordinary agriculture, for raising the means of subsistence; and this, of itself, might prove a
wholesome diversion, to relieve and disembarrass an overdone
trade. It is seldom that a merchant can extricate himself from
the difficulties of such a trade, by withdrawing'from it part of
his capital, and obtaining an equivalent for the part thus withdrawn. There is generally a sinking, a surrender, a positive annihilation, and loss of capital, on these occasions. It is hoped
that the public who are intent on the abolition of slavery, will not,
through Parliament, which is the great constitutional organ for
the utterance of their voice,-it is hoped that they will not refuse
this advantage to the West India proprietors. And, on the other
hand, it were equally desirable, that the other party,,the proprietors, should cease their opposition to a measure thus accompanied
with what appears, on every view that is taken of it, to be a very
fair and beneficial compensation.
But lastly, in reference to the abolitionists, what a field would
be opened, by this measure, for the enterprises of their philanthropy! What a coincidence would be brought about between
the interests of the planters, and their own benevolent designs for
the amelioration of the negroes! With what a mighty argument
might they go forth among these neglected outcasts, when urging
them to peace and contentment, and the calm prosecution of their
ulterior objects, the fulfilment of which will at once enrich their
masters, and emancipate themselves! Upon such a footing, the
Missionaries of the good cause might be admitted, without suspicion, and with perfect safety, among all the plantations; and there




THOUGHTS ON SLAVERY.                 211
is not one of them who could possibly inflict such an outrage on
all right and humane policy, as to encourage the expectations of
freedom in any other way than the one which the Legislature
had provided, and for which it had granted so liberal and advantageous an outset. Every lesson which they urged, would be on
the side of thrift, and sobriety, and regular labor; and, enforced,
as they could not fail to be, by the rational hope of a great earthly
reward, there would be a delightful harmony between these and
the higher lessons of Christianity. We should soon see the charm
of a Moravian transformation on the habits of many; and it may
be confidently predicted, of those who labored most sedulously
on their own day for the sum that was to purchase an immunity
to themselves, that they would be the most faithful, through the
remaining days, in the service of their proprietors. European
friends would not be wanting, to aid and to foster their generous
aspirings after liberty; and never was a safer and a quieter path
opened for the attainment of this great blessing, than the one that
is here recommended-not by a series of exasperations, and
struggles, and horrid barbarities, but by those slow and pacific
exertions which should bring them onward to liberty in successive footsteps, and thoroughly prepare them for the use and enjoyment of it, by the time that they had been conducted to its verge.
It were indeed a mild, yet noble triumph of legislation, if such
an experiment, on such a theatre, could, without the infringement
either of peace or of justice, be guided onward to its successful
termination-if it so re-united all interests, as to cement and to
satisfy all parties; and it was at length found, that the security of
the higher classes was best consulted by the gradual extension of
light and liberty, and the benefit of equal laws, to the very lowest
in the scale of society.
There are subordinate details which cannot be entered upon,
and which yet, if unexplained, might leave a doubt or difficulty in
the mind. It is thought, however, that, in practice, there is no
insuperable, even no formidable barrier against the accomplishment of this scheme.  The interest of mortgagees could be as
effectually guarded as it is now, under the proposed arrangement.
And as to the alleged danger of holiday riot and disturbance
among the negroes, on their free day, it is not necessary that it
should be on the same day of the week to all, either on a whole
island, or even throughout a whole plantation.  At the first, there
need be no more liberty than one sixth of the negro population at
a time, upon any estate; many of whom would most certainly
be at hard, though voluntary work, and all of whom would be
under the restraint of those laws which enforce decency and
good conduct among all classes.
The Essays which follow were contributed in the form of Prefaces to so
many of the works of old Christian authors, republished by MR. COLLINS of
Glasgow. They would not have appeared in the present publication, had it




212                     INTRODUCTORY NOTE.
not been, that, besides being recommendatory of the Treatises in question, each
is taken up with a distinct theological topic, on which we have attempted to
bestow an independent treatment of our own.
We esteem it the happy symptom of a wholesome revival in the taste and
spirit of the age, that of late there should have been such an increased demand,
for the best of those practical writings on Christianity, which made their apperance in the last half of the 17th and first half of the 18th century. We
have heard that MR. COLLINS'S Series of " Select Christian Authors," which
commenced about fifteen years ago, gave a powerful impulse to this revival.
Certain it is, that his enterprise lhas been successfully followed up by numerous
imitations; and it is our delightful confidence, that, both throughout Britain and
America, the effect has been, to leaven the public mind anew, with the substantial doctrine, and no less substantial Christian ethics, that flourished at that
period-when so many men of profoundest piety, were also men of profoundest
acquaintance, both with the lessons of the divine word and with the experimental lessons of human nature.
We cannot look back to that time, which, in spite of all the ridicule that
has been awakened by its occasional excesses, was in truth the Augustan age
of Christianity in England, without being reminded of the saying that " they
were giants in these days" —a character which they have rightfully earned,
not more by their prodigious industry than by their colossal powers, on the
strength of both which together, they achieved such an amount of active work,
along with such a magnitude and number of massive publications. We know
not which to admire most-the labor of their incessant ministrations, both in
the pulpit and among families; or the labor of their prolific and profound authorship. It is the combination of the two which raises our admiration into wonder; and the feeling is greatly enhanced, when we contemplate the solid worth
and quality of the compositions which they have given to the world.
To estimate them intellectually, account should be taken, both of their great
discernment into the meaning of Scripture, and their deep insight into the
mysteries of the heart. It was the conjunction of these two which so peculiarly
qualified them 1" to give a word in season"-to point out the marvellous correspondence which obtains, between the sayings of the Bible and the countless
varieties of life and character in the world; or between the characters graven
by the fingers of the Almighty on the tablet of an outward revelation, and the
characters graven by the same finger on the inward tablet of our own felt and
familiar nature. In the language of the schools, they were skilful to adapt the
objective to the subjective; or in the more simple and emphatic language of
inspiration, to"' manifest the truth of God to the consciences of men."
But it is in estimating them spiritually, that we come best to understand,
wherein it was that their great strength lay. What forms the true secret of
their effectiveness is the unction, or moral earnestness, by which their writings
are so manifestly pervaded. The good things which proceeded from them,
came from the good treasure of hearts quickened and renewed by the Holy
Spirit. Besides that often they were men of first-rate talent, they generally
were men of prayer; and this brought down an inspiring vigor on the exercises
of the closet, as well as on the duties of their public and daily walk. It is
thus that a devoted personal Christianity appears in almost every paragraph
of the volumes which they have left behind them-those weighty productsr
of great power and great piety-having in them a fragrancy and a force which
now are seldom exemplified; and in virtue of which, they have not only been
instrumental for the conversion of thousands in the days that are past, but still
continue to shed a blessing of the highest order on the churches and families of
our present generation.




INTRODUCTORY ESSAY
TO
THE IMITATION OF CHRIST:
IN THREE BOOKS.
BY THOMAS A KEMPIS.
WE have sometimes heard the strenuous argumentation of the
author of the following Treatise in behalf of holiness, excepted
against, on the ground that it did not recognize sufficiently the
doctrine of justification by faith. There is, in many instances, an
over-sensitive alarm on this topic, which makes the writer fearful
of recommending virtue, and the private disciple as fearful of embarking on the career of it-a sort of jealousy lest the honors and
importance of Christ's righteousness should be invaded, by any
importance being given to the personal righteousness of the believer: as if the one could not be maintained as the alone valid
plea on which the sinner could lay claim to an inheritance in heaven, and at the same time the other be urged as his indispensable
preparation for its exercises and its joys.
It is the partiality with which the mind fastens upon one article
of truth, and will scarcely admit the others to so much as a hearing-it is the intentness of its almost exclusive regards on some
separate portion of the divine testimony, and its shrinking avoidance of all the distinct and additional portions-it is, in particular,
its fondness for the orthodoxy of what relates to a sinner's acceptance, carried to such a degree of favoritism, as to withdraw its
attention altogether from  what relates to a sinner's sanctification,-it is this which, on the pretence of magnifying a most essential doctrine, has, in fact, diffused a mist over the whole field of
revelation; and which, like a mist in nature, not only shrouds the
general landscape from all observation, but also bedims, while it
adds to the apparent size of the few objects that continue visible.
It is the same light which reveals the whole, that will render these
last more brightly discernible than before; and whether they be
the prominences of spiritual truth, or of visible materialism, they
are sure to be seen most distinctly in that element of purity and




214            A KEMPIS IMITATION OF CHRIST.
clearness, through the medium of which the spectator is able to
recognize even the smaller features and the fainter lineaments that
lie on the ground of contemplation.
It is true, that the same darkening process which buries what
is remote in utter concealment, will, at least, sully and somewhat
distort the nearer perspective that is before us. But how much
more certain is it, that if such be the grossness of the atmosphere
as to make impalpable the trees, and the houses, and the hillocks
of our immediate vicinity-then will the distant spires, and mountairls, and villages, lie buried in still deeper and more hopeless obscurity. And so it is with revealed truth; the light of which is
spread over a wide and capacious arena, reaching afar from the
character of mall upon earth to the counsels of God in heaven.
When Christ told Nicodemus what change must take place upon
the earthly subject, ere it could be prepared for the glories and
felicities of the upper sanctuary, he was resisted in this announcement by the incredulity of his auditor. Upon this he came forth
with the remonstrance: " If I have told you earthly things, and
ye believe not, how shall ye believe, if I tell you of heavenly
things?"  And then he proceeds to tell of heavenly things, —of
the transactions that had taken place in the celestial judicatory
above, and which behooved to take place ere the sinner could obtain a rightful entrance into the territory of the blessed and the
unfallen; of the love that God bare to the world; of the mission
thereto on which He delegated His only and well-beloved Son;
of the design of this embassy, and the way in which it subserved
the great object of recovering sinnets from their state of condemnation. These are proceedings which may properly be referred
to the seat of the divine government, and to the principles which
operate and have ascendency there. The doctrine of regeneration is fulfilled or verified upon the human spirit, that is intimately
and consciously present with us. The doctrine of the atonement,
or the manner in which the reconciliation of the guilty is brought
into adjustment with the holiness of God, and with what He requires for maintaining the character and the dignity of His jurisprudence, is fulfilled or verified upon the divine Spirit, whose thoughts
and whose wavs are inscrutable to man-He not having ascended
up into heaven. And the expostulation amounts to this: —If a
man believe not in the doctrine of regeneration, how can he believe in the doctrine of the atonement? If he consent not to the
one he gives no real credit to the other. He may fancy it, or feign
it out to his imagination, but he has no faith in it.
The Bible makes known to us both man's depravity, and God's
displeasure against him: and if with the eve of our mind we see
not the one truth, which lies immediately at hand, neither with
the eye of our mind can we see the other truth, which lies in
fathomless obscurity, away firom us, among the recesses of that
mysterious Spirit, who is eternal and unsearchable. But the Bible




A KEMPIS' IMITATION OF CHRIST.            215
also makes known to us, both the renewing process by which
man's depravity is done away, and the reconciling process, by
which God's displeasure against him is averted. If we believe
not the former. neither do we believe the latter. If to our intellectual view, there be a darkness over the terrestrial operation,
then is there an equal, or a more aggravated darkness, over that
movement which took place in heaven, when the incense of a
sweet-smelling savor ascended to the throne, and the wrath of the
Lawgiver, who sitteth thereon, was turned awav.  And what is
true of each of these doctrines, regarded abstractly, or in the general, is also true of their personal application. If we find not that a
renewing process is taking effect upon us, neither ought we to
figure that we have any part in the reconciling process. It is possible to conceive the latter, even while the old nature still domineers over the whole man, and its desires are indulged without
remorse, or, at least, without any effective resistance. But this
conception is not the faith of the mind. It is rather what the old
writers would call a figment of the mind. The apostle adverts to
unfeigned faith. But surely, if a man shall overlook the near, and
dwell in thought, on the unseen distance that is beyond it; if, unmindful of any transition in his own breast from sin to sacredness,
he nevertheless shall persist in the confidence of a transition from
anger to complacency in the mind of the Divinity towards him;
if, without looking for a present holiness on earth, he pictures for
himselfa future beatitude in heaven-he resembles the man who,
across that haze of nature's atmosphere, which wraps all things in
obscurity, thinks to descry the realities of the ulterior space, when
he has only peopled it with gratuitous imagery of his own. The
faith of such a one is feigned. He believes not the earthly things
which are enunciated in Scripture; and, therefore, though he
should take up with the heavenly things that are enunciated there,
they are taken up by the wrong faculty.  To him they are not
the substantial objects of perception, but the allusions of fancy.
The traveller who publishes of distant countries, that we have
never seen, may also have included our own familiar neighborhood in his tour, and given a place in his description to its customs,
and its people, and its scenery. But if his narrative of the vicinity that is known were full of nlisrepresentations and errors, we
could have no belief' in his accoant of the foreign domains over
which he had expatiated. When we believe not what he tells us
of our native shire, how can we believe when he tells us of shires
or provinces abroad? And by this we may try the soundness of
our faith in the divine testimony. It is a testimony which embraces the things of earth and the things of heaven; which teaches
us the nature of man as originally corrupt, and requiring a power
from above, that may transform it, as well as on the nature of
God, as essentially averse to sin, and requiring an atonement that
may reconcile and pacify it. If we believe not what is said of the




216            A KEMPIS' IMITATION OF CHRIST.
nature of man, and of the doctrine of regeneration that is connected therewith, then we believe not what is said of the nature
of God, and of the doctrine of redemption that is connected therewith. We may choose to overlook the former revelation, and
stretch our attention onward to the latter, as that with which our
fancy is most regaled, or our fears are most effectually quieted into
pleasing oblivion. In this way, we may seize on the topic of imputed
righteousness, by an effort of desire, or an effort of imagination; but
if the man who does so have an unseeing eye towards the topic of
his own personal sanctification, he has just as little of faith towards
the former article as towards the latter, whatever preference of
liking or fancy he may entertain regarding it.  It may play
around his mind as one of its most agreeable day-dreams, but it
has not laid hold of his conviction. The light that maketh the
doctrine which affirms the change of God's mind towards the sinner believingly visible, would also make the doctrine which affirms
the change of the sinner's mind towards God believingly visible.
If the one be veiled from the eye of faith, the other is at least
equally so. It may be imagined by the mind, but it is not perceived. It may be conceived, but it is not credited.
There is a well-known publication, called the Traveller's Guide,
which you may take as your companion to some distant land, but
the accuracy of which you try upon the earlier stages of your
journey. If wholly incorrect in the description which it gives of
the first scenes through which you pass, you withdraw all your
confidence from its representation of the future scenes; and it
may even be so wide of the truth, in respect of the things that
are present and visible, as should lead you to infer that you are
altogether off the road that conducts to the place after which you
are aiming.  The Bible is a traveller's guide-and it portrays the
characters of humility, and self-denial, and virtuous discipline, and
aspiring godliness, which mark the outset of the pilgrimage,-and
it also portrays the characters of brightness, and bliss, and glory,
which mark its termination. If you do not believe that it delineates
truly the path of transition in time, neither do you believe, however much you may desiderate and dwell upon the prospect, that
it sketches truly, the place of joyful habitation in eternity. Or, at
least, you may well conclude, if you are not now on the path, of
holiness, that you are not on the path to heaven. And if you believe not the Scripture, when it announces a new spirit as your
indispensable preparation here, there may be a dazzling and deceitful imagination, but there is no real belief of what it announces,
or of what it promises, about paradise hereafter.
It is thus that we would try the faith of Antinomians. Fancy
is not faith. A wilfiul and determined adherence of the mind to
some beatific vision, in which it loves to indulge, is not a believing
assent of the mind to what a professed Teacher from heaven has
revealed to us of the coming immortality. How can we believe,




A KEMPIS' IMITATION OF CHRIST.            217
upon His authority, that we are to enter this region of purity and
peace, if we believe not, on the same authority, that the road which
leads to it, is a road of mortification, and of new obedience, and
of strenuous conflict with the desires and urgencies of nature?
If the eye of faith, or of the understanding, be opened on some
field of truth that is laid before it, it will not overlook the propinquities of this contemplation, while it only admits the objects which
lie on the remoter part of the territory. It is evidence which
opens this eye; and that evidence which has failed to open it to
what is near, will equally fail to open it to what is distant. But
though the eye of the understanding be shut, the eye of the imagination may be open. This requires no evidence, and the man
who is without faith in the realities which lie on the other side of
death, may nevertheless be all awake in his fancy to those images
of bliss with which he has embellished it, and may even possess
his own heart with the pleasing anticipation of it as his destined
inheritance. It is not upon his fancy, however, but upon his faith,
that the fulfilment of this anticipation will turn. —a faith which, had
it been real, would have had respect unto the prescribed road, as
well as unto the revealed inheritance,-a faith which would have
found him in holiness here, as well as in heaven hereafter. That
semblance of it which the Antinomian has is a mere vagary, that
may amuse or may harden him in the midst of his present worldliness, but which will be dissipated into nought at the judgmentseat, when, for the treacherous phantom which deceived him in
time, a tremendous reality will be awarded to him for eternity.
We like not that writer to be violently alleged against, who expounds, and expounds truly, the amount of Christian holiness,
because he says not enough, it is thought, of the warrants and
securities that are provided in the Gospel for Christian hope.
We think, that to shed a luminousness over one portion of the
divine testimony, is to reflect, at least, if not immediately to shed,
a light on all the other portions of it. The doctrine of our acceptance, by faith in the merits and propitiation of Christ, is
worthy of many a treatise, and many are the precious treatises
upon it which have been offered to the world. But the doctrine
of regeneration, by the Spirit of Christ, equally demands the
homage of a separate lucubration-which may proceed on the
truth of the former, and, by the incidental recognition of it, when
it comes naturally in the way of the authors's attention, marks
the soundness and the settlement of his mind thereupon, more
decisively than by the dogmatic, and ostentatious, and often misplaced asseverations of an ultra orthodoxy. And the clearer revelation to the eye of faith of one article, will never darken or
diminish, but will, in fact, throw back the light of an augmented
evidence on every other article. Like any object that is made up
of parts, which we have frequently looked to in their connection,
and as making up a whole-the more distinctly one part of it is
28




218             A KEMPIS' IMITATION OF CHRIST.
made manifest, the more forcibly will all the other parts of it be
suggested to the mind. And thus it is, that when pressing home
the necessity of one's own holiness, as his indispensable preparation for heaven, we do not dissever his mind from the atonement
of Christ, but in reality do we fasten it more closely than ever on
the necessity of another's righteousness, as his indispensable plea
for heaven.
Such we apprehend to be the genuine influence of a Treatise
that is now submitted anew to the Christian public. It certainly
does not abound in formal and direct avowals of the righteousness which is by faith, and on this account we have heard it excepted against. But we know of no reading that is more powerfully calculated to shut us up unto the faith-none more fitted to
deepen and to strengthen the basis of a sinner's humility, and so
reconcile him to the doctrine of salvation in all its parts, by grace
alone-none that, by exhibiting the height and perfection of
Christian attainments, can better serve the end of prostrating the
inquirer into the veriest depths of self-abasement, when, on the
humbling comparison of what he is, with what he ought to be, he
is touched and penetrated by a sense of his manifold deficiencies.
It is on this account that the author of such a work may, instrumentally speaking, do the office of a schoolmaster to bring us
unto Christ: nor do we know at what other time it is, than when
eyeing from afar the lofty track of spiritual and seraphic piety
which is here delineated, that we more feel our need of the great
High Priest, or that His peace-speaking blood and His perfect
righteousness are more prized by us.
But it is not enough that we idly gaze on the heavenly course.
We must personally enter it; and it is most utterly and experimentally untrue, that, in the prosecution of this walk, we meet with
anything to darken the principles on which are made to hinge a
sinner's justification in the sight of God. He who looks most frequently to Christ, for the purpose of imitation, will also gather
most from him on which to prop his confidence, and that to on
the right and evangelical basis.  There is a sure link of concatenation in the processes of divine grace, by which a growing
spiritual discernment is made to emerge out of a growing conformity to the will and the image of the Saviour.  These two
elements act, and re-act, the one upon the other.  "He that
keepeth my commandments to him will I manifest myself." "He
whose eye is single shall have his whole body full of light."*
" The Holy Ghost," who acts as a revealer, "is given to those
who obey Him."  " To him who hath, more shall be given." All
proving that there is a procedure in the administration of divine
* By singleness of eye here, is meant not a single intentness of the mind upon one
truth, but, as is evident from the context, that singleness of aim after an interest in
heaven, which is not perverted or seduced from its object by the love of a present evil
world.




A KEMPIS' IMITATION OF' CHRIST.            219
grace, by which he who giveth himself up unto all righteousness
is guided unto all truth.
And, it is to be hoped, that while the doctrine of justification is
not argued, but rather enhanced and recommended by the perusal
of such a work, its own distinct object will be still more directly
subserved, of leading some to a more strict and separate devotedness of life, than is often to be met with in this professing age.
The severities of Christian practice, which are here urged upon
the reader, are in no way allied with the penances and the selfinflictions of a monastic ritual, but are the essentials of spiritual
discipline in all ages, and must be undergone by every mall who
is transformed by the Holy Ghost from one of the children of this
world to one of the children of light.  The utter renunciation of
self —the surrender of all vanity-the patient endurance of evils
and wrongs —the crucifixion of natural and worldly desires —the
absorption of all our interests and passions in the enjoyment of
God-and the subordination of all we do, and of all we feel, to
His glory,-these form the leading virtues of our pilgrimage, and
in the very proportion of their rarity, and their painfulness, are
they the more effectual tests of our regeneration. And one of the
main uses of this book is, that while it enforces these spiritual
graces in all their extent, it lays open the spiritual enjoyment that
springs from the cultivation of them-revealingr the hidden charm
which lies in godliness, and demonstrating the sure though secret
alliance which obtains between the peace of heaven in the soul,
and patience under all tile adversities of the path which leads to
it.  It exposes alike the sufferings and the delights which attach
to a life of sacredness: and its wholesome tendency is to reconcile the aspirant after eternal life, to the whole burden of that
cross on earth which he must learn to bear with submission and
cheerfulness, until he exchanges it in heaven for a crown of glory.
Such a work may be of service in these days of soft and silken
professorship,-to arouse those who are at ease in Zion; to remind them of the terms of the Christian discipleship, as involving
a life of conflict, and watchfulness, and much labor; to make them
jealous of themselves, and jealous of that evil nature, the power
of which must be resisted, but from the besetting presence of
which we shall not be conclusively delivered, until death shall rid
us of a frame-work, the moral virus of which may be kept in
check. while we live, but cannot be eradicated by any process
short of dissolution.




INTRODUCTORY ESSAY
TO
TREATISE S
ON THE
LIFE, WALK, AND TRIUMPH OF FAITH,
BY
THE REV. W. ROMAINE, A.M.
THERE is nothing of which some readers of religious books
complain more grievously, than that they should be exposed to a
constant and wearisome reiteration of the same truths; than that
the appetite of the mind for variety should be left to the pain of
its own unsated cravings, through the never-failing presentation
of some one idea, wherewith, perhaps, it has long ago been palled
and nauseated; than that, what they already know should yet
again and again be told them-so as to subject their attention to
topics that have become tasteless and threadbare, and their minds
to a monotony of ideas, that may, at length, be felt to be quite
insupportable. This objection has sometimes been urged against
Mr. ROMAINE'S excellent Treatises on FAITH; and that, precious
and important as they acknowledge the truths to be on which he
unceasingly delights to expatiate, yet they consider the frequency
of their recurrence has a tendency to produce in the mind a feeling, if not of weariness, at least of unnecessary repetition.
Now, Paul himself admitted that to write the same things was
not grievous to himself, however grievous it may have been felt
bv those whom he was in the habit of addressing. And, lest they
should have felt his repetitions to be matter of offence or of annoyance, he tries to reconcile them to these repetitions, by affirming, that whether they were agreeable or not, at least they were
safe. " To write the same things to you, to me indeed is not
grievous, but for you it is safe."
A process of reasoning gives a most agreeable play and exer.
cise to the faculties. Yet how soon would such a process. if of.'ii




ROMAINE S TREATISES ON FAITH.             221
repeated, feel stale to'the intellectual taste.  Even the pleasure
we had at the first, from the important, and perhaps, unexpected
result to which it had conducted us, would speedily wear off. It
would, of course, instantly cease to be unexpected: and as to its
importance, we know that this is a property of such truths as are
most familiar and most generally recognized: and these, of all others, are least fitted to stimulate the mere understanding. Like the
element of water, they may be the most valuable, yet least prized
truths by us: and certain it is, that by the unvarying announcement of them, they would, at length, fall in downright bluntness
and insipidity on the ear of the inner man. It is thus that a train
of argument, the mere object of which is to gain the conviction
of the understanding, does not admit of being repeated indefinitely. After having once carried the conviction, it ceases to be
any longer needful-and as to the recreation which is thereby
afforded to the intellectual powers, nothing is more certain, than
that the enjoyment would speedily decay, should the very same
reasoning, and the very same truths be often presented to the
notice of the mind, so as at length to flatten into a thing of such
utter listlessness, that no one pleasure could be given, and no one
power could be awakened by it.
And what is true of a train of argument addressed to the reason, is also true of those images and illustrations which are addressed to the fancy. Whatever delight may have been felt at
the original presentation of them, would rapidly subside were they
ever and anon to be obtruded on the view. We know of nothing
more exquisite than the sensation that is felt when the light of
some unexpected analogy, or of some apt and beautiful similitude
makes its first entry into the mind. And yet there is a limit to
the enjoyment-nor would the attempt to ply the imagination at
frequent intervals with one and the same picture be long endured.
The welcome which it found from its own intrinsic loveliness,
was enhanced by the charm of novelty; but when that charm is
dissipated, then is it possible, that, by the mere force of repetition,
the taste may decline into languor or even into loathing. Bothl the
reason and the fancy of man must have variety to feed upon;
and, wanting this, the constant reiteration of the same principles,
and the constant recital of the same poetry, would indeed be
grievous.
Yet are there certain appetites of the mind which have no such
demand for variety. It is not with the affections, or the moral
feelings, as it is with other principles of our nature. The desire
of companionship, for example. may find its abundant and full
gratification in the society of a very few friends. And often may
it happen of an individual, that his presence never tires-that his
smile is the sunshine of a perpetual gladness to the heart-that in
his looks and accents of kindness, there is a charm that is perennial and unfading-that the utterance of his name is at all times




222            ROMAINE S TREATISES ON FAITH.
pleasing to the ear; and the thought of his worth or friendship is
felt as a cordial, by the hourly and habitual ministration of which
the soul is upheld. The man who expatiates on his virtues, or
who demonstrates to you the sincerity of his regards, or who refreshes your memory with such instances of his fidelity as indeed
you had not forgotten, but which still you love to be retold-it is
but one theme or one topic in which he indulges; and often will
he retail in your hearing what substantially are the same things,
-yet are they not grievous.
And the tale of another's friendly and favorable inclination to
you will not merely bear to be often repeated, because in the conscious possession of friendship there is a perpetual enjoyment, but
also because there is in it a constant preservative, and a charm
against the discomfort to which a mind, when left to other influences, or to itself, might else be liable. When the heart is desolated by affliction, or harassed with care, or aggrieved by injustice and calumny, or even burdened under the weight of a solitude
which it feels to be a weariness, who would ever think of apprehending lest the daily visit of your best friend should be grievous,
because it was the daily application of the same thing? Would
not you, in these circumstances, fondly cling to his person, or, if
at a distance, would not your heart as fondly cling to the rememLrance of him? Would not you be glad to bear up the downward and the desponding tendencies of the heart, by the thought of
that unalterable affection, which survived the wreck of your
other earthly hopes, and earthly interests?  Would not you feel
it a service, if any acquaintance of yours were to conduct him in
person to your chamber; and there to bring upon you the very
smiles that a thousand times before had gladdened your bosom,
and the very accents of tenderness that had often, in days which
are past, soothed and tranquillized you?  Or, if he cannot make
him present to you in person, is not a service still rendered, if he
make him present to your thoughts? You have no doubt of the
alleged friendship, but nature is forgetful, and, for the time being,
it may not be adverting to that truth which, of all others, is most
fitted to pacify and to console it. The memory needs to be
awakened to it. The belief of it may never have been extinguished; but the conception of it may be absent from the mind,
and for the purpose of recalling it, the voice of a remembrancer
may be necessary. It is thus that the opportune suggestion of a
truth, which has long been known, and often repeated, may still
the tumults of an agitated spirit, and cause light to arise out of
darkness. And who can object to sameness, and to reiteration,
in such a case as this? The same position brought forward again
and again, for the mere didactic purpose to convince or to inform,
might, however important, soon cease to interest the understand
ing; and the same image, however beautiful, might, if often pre.
sented, soon cease to interest or to affect the fancy-but the affir




ROMAINE S TREATISES ON FAITH.             223
mation of a friendship that is dear to your heart, may be repeated
as often as is necessary to raise and to prolong the sense of it
within vou-and, although the theme of every day, still, instead
of being grievous on that account, may it be felt like the renewed
application of balsam to the soul, with as lively a sense of enjoyment as before, and with a delight that is utterly inexhaustible.
The same holds true of a moral principle. The announcement
of it needs not to be repeated with a view to inform; but it may
be repeated with a view to influence, and that on every occurrence of temptation or necessity. Were it our only business with
virtue to learn what it is, it were superfluous to be told oftener
than once, that anger degrades and discomposes him who is carried away by it, and ought to be resisted as alike a violation of
duty and of dignity. But as our main business with virtue is to
practise it, the very same thing of which by one utterance we
have been sufficiently informed, might be often uttered, with propriety and effect, in order that we should be reminded of it. And,
accordingly in som-e hour of great and sudden provocation, when
another's fraud or another's ingratitude would take full possession
of the feelings, and shut out from the mind's regard every element
that had influence to still or to arrest the coming storm, were it
not well, if some friendly monitor were standing by, and bidding
him be calm? There might not, in the whole of the remonstrance,
be one consideration employed, which has not often been recognized, nor one principle urged, which has not been admitted, long
ago, into his ethical system, and is perfectly familiar to his understanding, as a sound principle of human conduct. Yet it is not
superfluous again to urge it upon him. A practical object is
gained by this timely suggestion-and it is the highest function of
practical wisdom, not to devise what is new, but seasonably to recall what is old.  When in the heat and the hurryv of some brooding fermentation, there is one intense feeling that has taken exclusive occupation of the soul, it is well that some counteractive
influence might be poured in, which shall assuage its violence.
And this influence, generally, lies not with new truths which are
then for the first time apprehended, but with old truths which are
then brought to the remembrance. So that, while for the author
to repeat the same things is not grievous, for the reader it may be
safe.
The doctrine of Jesus Christ and Him crucified, which forms
the principal and pervading theme in the following Treatises, possesses a prominent claim to a place in our habitual recollections.
And, for this purpose, ought it to be the topic of frequent reiteration by every Christian author; and it may well form the staple
of many a Christian treatise, and be the leading and oft-repeated
argument of many a religious conversation. It is this which
ushers into the mind of a sinner the sense of God as his Friend
and his reconciled Father. That mind, which is so apt to be




224            ROMAINE S TREATISES ON FAITH.
overborne by this world's engrossments —or to lapse into the
dread and distrust of a conscious offender-or to go back again
to nature's lethargy, and nature's alienation-or to lose itself in
quest of a righteousness of its own, by which it might challenge
the reward of a blissful eternity,-stands in need of a daily visitor
who, by his presence, might dissipate the gloom, or clear away
the perplexity, in which these strong and practical tendencies of
the human constitution are so ready to involve it. There is with
man an obstinate forgetfulness of God; so that the Being who
made h;m is habitually away from his thoughts. That he may
again be brought nigh, there must be an open door of entry by
which the mind of man can welcome the idea of God, and willingly entertain it; by which the imagination of Deity might become supportable, and even pleasing to the soul: so that, when
present to our remembrance, there should be the felt presence of
one who loves and is at peace with us. Now, it is only by the
doctrine of the cross that man can thus delight himself in God,
and, at the same time, be free from delusion. This is the way of
access for man entering into friendship with God, and for the
thought of God, as a Friend, entering into the heart of man. And
thus it is, that the sound of his Saviour's love carries with it such
a fresh and unfailing charm to a believer's ear. It is the precursor to an act of mental fellowship with God, and is hailed as the
sound of the approaching footsteps of Him whom you know to
be vour Friend.
When the mind, abandoned to itself, takes its own spontaneous
and undirected way, it is sure to wander from God; and hence,
if without effort, and without watchfulness, will it lapse into a state
of insensibility in regard to Him. While in the corrupt and earthly
frame of our present tabernacle, there is a constant gravitation of
the heart towards ungodliness; and, against this tendency, there
needs to be applied the counterpoise of such a force as shall either
act without intermission, or by frequent and repeated impulses.
The belief that God is your Friend in Christ Jesus, is just the restorative, by which the soul is brought back again from the lethargy into which it had fallen; and the great preservative by which
it is upheld from sinking anew into the depths of its natural alienation. It is by cherishing this belief, and by a constant recurrence
of the mind to that great truth which is the object of it, that a
sense of reconciliation, or the felt nearness of God as your Friend,
is kept up in the bosom. And if the mind will not, by its own energies, constantly recur to the truth, it is good that the truth should
be frequently obtruded on the notice of the mind. "Rejoice in
the Lord always, and again I say, rejoice." If there be an aptitude in man, which undoubtedly there is, to let slip the things that
belong to his peace, it is good to be ever and anon presenting
these things to his view, and bidding him give earnest heed unto
them. It is not that his judgment would be thereby informed, noi




ROMAINE S TREATISES ON FAITH.            225
that his imagination would be thereby regaled, but that his mnemory would be awakened, and his practical tendency to forget or
fall asleep unto these things would be thereby made head against.
And thus there are certain things, the constant repetition of which,
by Christian writers, ought not to be thought grievous, and at all
events is safe.
And there is a perpetual tendency in nature not only to forget
God, but also to misconceive Him. There is nothing more firmly
interwoven with the moral constitution of man than a legal spirit
towards God, with its aspirings, and its jealousies, and its fears.
Let the conscience be at all enlightened, and a sense of manifold
deficiencies from the rule of perfect obedience is altogether unavoidable; and so there is ever lurking in the recesses of our heart
a dread and a misgiving about God-the secret apprehension of
Him as our enemy —a certain distrust of Him, or feeling of preca.
riousness; so that we have little comfort and little satisfaction
while we entertain the thought of Him. Were that a mere intellectual error by which we hold the favor of God to be a purchase
with the righteousness of man, and so failing in the establishment
of such a righteousness, we remained without hope in the world;
or were that a mere intellectual error by which we continued
blind to the offered righteousness of Christ, and so, declining the
offer, kept our distance from the only ground on which God and
man can walk in amity together; then, like any other error of the
understanding, it might be done conclusively away by one statement or one demonstration.  But when, instead of a fault in the
judgment, which might thus be satisfied by a single announcement,
it is a perverse constitutional bias that needs to be at all times
plied against, by the operation of a contrary influence-then it
might not be on the strength of one deliverance only, but by dint
of its strenuous and repeated asseveration, that the sense of God as
both a just God and a Saviour is upheld in the soul. This might
just be the aliment by which the soul is kept from pining under
a sense of its own poverty and nakedness-the bread of life
which it receives by faith, and delights at all times to feed upon:
and just as hunger'does not refuse the same viands by which, a
thousand times before, it has been met and satisfied, so may the
doctrine of Christ crucified be that spiritual food which is ever
welcomed by the hungry and heavy-laden soul, and is ever felt to
be precious.
The Bible supposes a tendency in man to let slip its truths from
his recollection, and, in opposition to this, it bids him keep them in
memory, else he might have believed them in vain. It is not
enough that they may, at one time, have been received. They
must be at all times remembered. "And therefore," says Peter,
"I will not be negligent to put you always in remembrance of
these things, though ye know them and be established in the
present truth." To know and to be assured is not enough, it
29




226            ROMAINE S TREATISES ON FAITH.
would appear. They may at one time have consented to the
words which were spoken, but the apostle presented them anew,
in order that they might be mindful of the words which were
spoken. Those doctrines of religion which speak comfort, or have
an attendant moral influence upon the soul, must at first be learned;
but not, like many of the doctrines of science, consigned to a place
of dormancy among the old and forgotten acquisitions of the
understanding.  They stand in place of a kind and valuable
friend, of whom it is not enough that he has once been introduced
to your acquaintance, but with whom you hold it precious to have
daily fellowship, and to be in your habitual remembrance. And
this is eminently true of that doctrine which is so frequently reiterated in these Treatises, " that Christ died for our sins. according
to the Scriptures." It is the portal through which the light of
God's reconciled countenance is let in upon the soul. It is the
visitor that ushers there the peace and glory of heaven, and, forcing its way through all those cold and heavy obstructions by
which the legal spirit has beset the heart of proud yet impotent
man-it is the alone truth that can at once hush the fears of guilt,
and command a reverence for the offended Sovereign. No wonder, then, that its presence should be so much courted by all who
have been touched with the reality and the magnitude of eternal
things-by all who have ever made the question of their acceptance with God a matter of earnest and home-felt application;
and who, urged on the one hand, by the authority of a law that
must be vindicated, and on the other, by the sense of a condemnation that, to the eye of nature, appears inextricable, must give
supreme welcome to the message that can assure them of a way
by which both God may be glorified and the sinner may be safe.
It is the blood of Christ which resolves this mystery, and it is by
the daily application of this blood to the conscience that peace is
daily upheld there. When the propitiation by Christ is out of the
mind, then, on the strength of its old propensities, does it lapse
either into the forgetfulness of God, or into a fearful distrust of
Him. And therefore it is, that every aspiring Christian prizes
every intimation, and every token of remembrance, by which to
recall to his mind the thought of a crucified Saviour. And he no
more quarrels with a perpetual sense of Him who poured out His
soul unto death, than he would with the perpetual sunshine of a
brilliant and exhilarating day: and just as a joy and a thankfulness are felt at every time when the sun breaks out from the
clouds which lie scattered over the firmament —so is that beam of
gladness which enters with the very name of Christ, when it finds
its way through that dark and disturbed atmosphere which is ever
apt to gather around the soul. The light of beauty is not more
constantly pleasant to the eye-the ointment that is poured forth
not more constantly agreeable in its odor-the relished and
wholesome food not more constantly palatable to the ever-recur



ROMAINE S TREATISES ON FAITH.           227
iing appetite of hunger —the benignant smile of tried and approved
friendship not more constantly delicious to the heart of man, than
is the sense of a Saviour's sufficiency to him of spiritual and newborn desires, who now hungers and thirsts after righteousness.
This may explain the untried and unexpended delight wherewith the Christian hangs upon a theme which sounds monotonously, and is felt to be wearisome by other men: and this is one
test by which he may ascertain his spiritual condition. There is
much associated with religion that is fitted to regale even a mind
that is unrenewed, if open to the charms of a tasteful, or pathetic,
or eloquent representation. And thus it is, that crowds may be
drawn around a pulpit by the same lure of attraction which fills a
theatre with raptured and applauding multitudes. To uphold the
loveliness of the song, might the preacher draw on all the beauties
of nature, while he propounds the argument of nature's God: nor
need the deep, the solemn interest of tragedy be wanting, with
such topics at command as the sinner's restless bed, and the dark
imagery of guilt and vengeance wherewith it is surrounded: and
again, may the fairest tints of heaven be employed to deck the
perspective of a good man's anticipations; or the touching associations of home be pressed into the service of engaging all our
sympathies, with the feelings, and the struggles, and the hopes of
his pious family. It is thus that the theological page may be
richly strewed with the graces of poetry, and even the feast of intellect be spread before us by the able champions of theological
truth. Yet all this delight would require novelty to sustain it,
and be in full congeniality with minds on which the unction of
living water from above had never yet descended. It is altogether diverse from that spiritual taste, by which the simple application of the cross to the sinner's conscience is felt and appreciated-by which the utterance of the Saviour's name is at all times
welcomed like the sound of sweetest music-by which a sensation of relief enters, with all the power and freshness of a new
feeling, so often as the conception of His atoning blood, and of
His perfect righteousness, is made to visit us-by which the reiteration of His sacrifice upon the ear, has a like effect to disperse
the habitual distrust or lethargy of nature, that the ever-recurring
presence of a friend has to disperse the gloom of a constitutional
melancholy. It is no evidence of his vital Christianity, that a man
can enjoy a kindred recreation in those embellishments of genius
or literature of which the theme is susceptible. But if its simple
affirmations be sweet unto him-if the page be never lovelier in
his eye than when gemmed with Bible quotations that are both
weighty and pertinent —if when pervaded throughout by a reference to Christ, and to Him crucified, it be felt and rejoiced in like
the incense of a perpetual savor, and he, withal a son of learning
and generous accomplishment, can love, even in its homeliest garb
the oft-repeated truth; and that, purely because the balm of Gil



228            ROMAINE'S TREATISES ON FAITH.
ead is there,-this we should hold the evidence of one who, so far
at least, has been enlightened, and has tasted of the heavenly gift,
and has been made a partaker of the Holy Ghost, and has tasted
of the good word of God. and the powers of the world to come.
We know of no Treatises where this evangelical infusion so
pervades the whole substance of them as those of ROMAINE.
Though there is no train of consecutive argument-though there
is no great power or variety of illustration —though we cannot allege in their behalf much richness of imagery, or even much depth
of Christian experience. And, besides, though we were to take
up any of his paragraphs at random, we should find that, with
some little variation in the workmanship of each, there was mainly
one ground or substratum for them all —yet the precious and consoling truths, which he ever and anon presents, must endear them
to those who are anxious to maintain in their minds a rejoicing
sense of God as their reconciled Father. He never ceases to make
mention of Christ and of His righteousness-and it is by the constant droppings of this elixir that the whole charm and interest of
his writings are upheld. With a man whose ambition and delight it was to master the difficulties of an argument; or with a
man whose chief enjoyment it was to range at will over the domains of poetry, we can conceive nothing more tasteless or tame
than these Treatises that are now offered to the public. Yet, in
despite of that literary nakedness which they may exhibit to the
eye of the natural man, who possesses no spiritual taste, and no
spiritual discernment, let such a man have his eye opened to the
hidden glories of that theme, which, of all others, was dear to the
bosom of their author, and, whether from the press or from the
pulpit, was the one theme on which he ever loved to expatiatelet the sense of guilt but fasten upon his conscience, and the sure
but simple remedy of faith in the blood of Christ recommend itself
as that power of God which alone is able to dissolve it-let him
be made to feel the suitableness that there is between this precious application, and that inward disease of which the malignity
and the soreness have now been revealed to him-then, like as it
is at all times pleasing, when there is laid over a bodily wound the
emollient that relieves it, so is it at all times pleasing, whenever
the spiritual malady is felt, to have recourse upon that unction by
the sprinkling of which it is washed away. A feeling of joy in the
Redeemer will be ever prompting to the same contemplations, and
to the utterance of the same things. To a regenerated spirit, that
never can be a weariness in time, which is to form the song of
eternity.
But it is of importance to remark, that the theme on which Mr.
Romaine so much loves to expatiate, is a purifying as well as a
pleasing theme. It is not only not grievous to indulge in it, but,
most assuredly, to every true-hearted Christian, it is safe. We
are aware of the alleged danger which some entertain of the ten



ROMAINE S TREATISES ON FAITH.             229
dency of such a full and free exhibition of the grace of the Gospel, to produce Antinomianism. But the way to avert this, is
not by casting any part of Gospel truth into the shade. It is to
spread open the whole of it, and give to every one part the relief
and the prominency that it has in Scripture. We are not to mitigate the doctrines of a justifying faith, and an all-perfect righteous.
ness, because of the abuse that has been made of them by hypocrites-but, leaving to these doctrines all their prominency, we
are to place by their side the no less important and undeniable
truths, that heaven is the abode of holy creatures, and that, ere we
are qualified for admittance there, we must become holy and heavenly ourselves. Nor is there a likelier way of speeding this practical transformation upon our souls, than by keeping up there.
through the blood of Christ, a peace in the conscience, which is
never truly done, without a love in the heart being kept up along
with it. Those who are justified by faith in the righteousness of
Christ, and, in consequence of which, have that peace with God
which this author labors so earnestly to maintain in the mind, walk
not after the flesh, but after the Spirit: and that man's faith in the
offered Saviour is not real, nor has he given a cordial acceptance
to that grace which is so freely revealed in the Gospel, if he do not
demonstrate the existence of this faith in his heart, by its operation in his character. A hypocrite may pervert the grace of the
Gospel, as he will seek a shelter for his iniquities, wherever it can
be found. But because he receives it deceitfully, this is no reason
why it should be withheld from those who receive it in truth.
The truths which he abuses to his own destruction, are, nevertheless, the very truths which serve to aliment the gratitude and the
new obedience of every honest believer, who gives welcome acceptance to all things whatsoever that are written in the book of
God's counsel, and finds room enough in his moral system for both
of the positions-that he is justified by faith, and that he is judged
by works.




INTRODUCTORY ESSAY
TO
THE CHRISTIAN REMEMBRANCER,
BY
AMBROSE SERLE, EsQ.
IT is quite possible that a doctrine may at one time have been
present to our minds, to the evidence of which we then attended,
and the truth of which we did in consequence believe; and yet,
in the whole course of our future thoughts, may it never again
have occurred to our remembrance. This is quite possible of a
doctrine in science; and it may also be conceived of a doctrine
in theology, that on one day it may have been the object of faith,
and never on any succeeding day be the object of memory. In
this case, the doctrine, however important, and though appertaining to the very essence of the Gospel, is of no use. It is not
enough that we have received the Gospel, we must stand in it.
And it is not enough that we barely believe it, for we are told, on
the highest authority, that unless we keep it in memory we have
believed in vain.
This may lead us to perceive that there is an error in the imaginations of those who think, that after having understood and
acquiesced in Christian truth, there is an end of all they have to
do with it. There is, with many, a most mischievous repose of
mind upon this subject. They know that by faith they are saved,
and they look to the attainment of this faith as a terminating good,
with the possession of which, could they only arrive at it, they
would be satisfied; and they regard the articles of a creed in
much the same light that they do the articles of a title-deed,
which may lie in their repository for years, without once being
referred to: and they have the lurking impression, that if this
creed were once fairly lodged among the receptacles of the inner
man, and only produced in the great day of the examination of
passports, it would secure their entry into heaven —just as the titledeed in possesession, though never once looked to, guarantees to
them a right to all that is conveyed by it. The mental tablet on




SEItLE'S CHRISTIAN REMEMBRANCER.           231
which are inscribed their articles of belief, is consigned, as it were,
to some place of concealment within them, where it lies in a kind
of forgotten custody, instead of hanging out to the eye of the
mind, and there made the subject of busy and perpetual observe
tion. It is not like a paper filled with the principles and standing
rules of a court, and to which there must be a daily reference for
the purpose of daily procedure and regulation. It is more, to
make use of a law term, like a paper in retentis-perhaps making
good to them certain privileges which never will be questioned,
or ready to be produced on any remote and distant occasion,.
when such a measure may be called for. Now this is a very great
misconception; and whenever we see orthodoxy contentedly
slumbering over its fancied acquisitions, and resting securely upon
the imagination that all its business is now settled and set by, we
may be very sure that it is something like this which lies at the
bottom of it.
To rectify this wrong imagination, let it never be forgotten,
that everywhere in the Bible, those truths by the belief of which
we are saved, have this efficacy ascribed to them, not from the
mere circumstance of their having once been believed, but after
they are believed, from the circumstance of their being constantly
adverted to. The belief of them on the one hand is indispensable; for let this be withheld, and the habitual recurrence of the
mind to them is of no more use, than would be its constant tendency to dwell on such fancies as it knew to be chimerical. But
this habitual recurrence is just as indispensable; for let this be
withheld, and the belief of them were of no more use, than would
be that of any other salutary truth, forgotten as to the matter of
it, and therefore utterly neglected as to its application. The child
who is told of his father's displeasure, should he spend that hour
in amusement which is required to be spent in scholarship, may believe this at the time of the announcement.  But when the hour
comes, should the intimation slip from his memory, he has believed
in vain. And from the apostle's declaration, who assures us, that
unless we keep the truth in memory we have believed in vain,
may we gather what that is which forms the true function and
design of' the faith that is unto salvation. It is not that by the
bare possession of the doctrines which it appropriates as so many
materials, salvation may be purchased: it is that by the use to
which these materials are put, we may come into a state of salvation. It is not that truths lying in a state of dormancy within us,
form so many titles in our behalf to the purchased inheritansce: it
is that truths ever present to the waking faculties of our mind,
(and they never can be so without being remembered,) have an
influence and a power to make us meet for the inheritance.
On this important truth, so indispensable to secure the saving
and salutary influence of the other truths of Christianity, when
known and believed, we shall make three observations.  The first




232           SERLE'S CHRISTIAN REMEMBRANCER.
regards the kind of effort that should be made, either by an inquirer or a Christian, in the business of prosecuting his salvation.
The second regards the nature of that salvation. And the third
regards the power of the truth, when summoned into the mind's
presence by an act of recollection, to keep it in that right train
both of purpose and desire which prepares and carries it forward
to the enjoyment of heaven.
I. With regard to the kind of effort that should be made by an
inquirer, he does not, we will venture to say, set earnestly out in
quest of salvation without its coming primarily and prominently
into his notice, that he is saved by faith. And hence very often
a straining of the mind after this acquirement —an anxious endeavor to believe-a repeated attempt to grasp that truth, by the
possession of which it is, that we obtain a right to life everlasting;
and as the accompaniment of all this, a frequent work of inward
search and contemplation, to try if that principle be there, on
which there hinges so important a consummation as the favor of
God, and the forgiveness of all trespasses. Now it is worth the
remarking, on this subject, that there is no such thing as forcing
the belief of the mind beyond what it sees of proof and evidence.
We may force the mind to attend to a matter; or we may force
it to conceive that matter; or we may force it to persevere in
thinking and in dwelling upon it. But beyond the light of evidence you cannot force it to any kind of belief about it. Faith is
not to be arrived at in this way; and we can no more command
the mind to see that to be truth on which the light of evidence
does not shine, than we can command the eye to behold the sun
through a dark impalpable cloud, that mantles it from human observation. Should a mountain intervene between our eye and
some enchanting scene that lies on the other side of it, it is not
by any piercing or penetrative effort on the part of the eye,
through this solid opaque mass, that we will obtain the sight after
which we are aspiring. And yet there is a way of obtaining it.
A mere effort of the eye will not do; but the effort of ascending
the mountain will do. And, in like manner, a mere straining of
the mind after any doctrine, with a view to apprehend it, will
never, without the light of evidence, bring that doctrine into the
discernment of the mind's eye. But such is the proclaimed importance of belief, as carrying in it an escape from ruin everlasting, and a translation into all the security of acceptance with God,
that to the acquisition of it the effort of an inquirer is most naturally bent: and he is apt to carry this effort beyond the evidence; and the effort to behold beyond evidence is of a nature so
fruitless and fatiguing, that it harasses the mind, just as any overstretch does toward that which, after all, is an impossibility. And
vet there is a line of effort that is productive. There is a path
along which the light of evidence will dawn, and that which is
impossible to be seen without it, wili be seen by it; and that, too,




SERLE S CHRISTIAN REMEMBRANCER.           233
without distortion or unnatural violence upon the faculties. We
are bidden seek the pearl of great price. and there must be a way
of it. It is quite obvious, and not at all impracticable, to read the
Bible with attention, and to wait upon ordinances, and to give
vent to the desirousness of our hearts in prayer, and to follow
conscience in the discharge of all known duties-and the truth
which is unto salvation, and by the knowing and believing of
which we acquire everlasting life, a truth that never can be seen
while an opaque and impenetrable shroud is upon it, will at length
break out into open manifestation.  It does not do to be so urged
by a sense of the necessity of faith, as to try the imnpracticability
of making faith outrun the evidence.  But it does well to be at
the post, and along the path of inquiry and exertion, where it is
promised that the light of this evidence will be made to shine upon
us. If we keep by our duties and our Bibles, like the apostles
who kept by Jerusalem  till the Holy Ghost was poured upon
them, there is not one honest seeker who will not, in time, be a
sure and triumphant finder. And we ought to commit ourselves
in confidence to this course, assured of the prosperous result that
must come out of it. We ought not to be discomposed by our
anxieties about the final attainment. Though the alternative of
our heaven or hell hang upon the issues of our seeking to be justtfied by faith, still we ought not to try and toil to make our faith
outrun the light of conviction. It should be our great encouragement, that it is not merely he who has found the Lord that is
called upon to rejoice, but that it is said by the Psalmist, " Let
the heart of them rejoice that seek the Lord."  "Ask and ye shall
receive: seek and ye shall find: knock and it shall be opened
unto you."
Let us now conceive that the truth is gotten-that faith, which
has been called, and aptly enough too, the hand of the mind, has
appropriated and brought it within the grasp and possession of a
believer, the question comes to be, How is this new acquisition to
be disposed of? We may be sensible how often truths come to
be known and believed by us, and how some of them perhaps
have died away from our memory, and never been recalled: and
yet we may be said to be in possession of them, for upon their
bare mention we will instantly recognize them as doctrines we
have already learned, and with the truth of which, at the time'
that we attended to their evidence, we were abundantly satisfied.
Now, is it by such a possession of Christian truth that we will secure a part in the Christian salvation? It is not. It is not by
first importing it into our conviction, and then consigning it to
some by-corner of the mind, where it lies in a state of oblivion
and dormancy-it is not thus, that our knowledge of God and of
Jesus Christ becomes life everlasting.  The truths which be unto
salvation are not laid past like the forgotten acquisitions of science
or scholarship. And we are wrong if we think, that just as the
80




234           SERLE S CHRISTIAN REMEMBRANCER.
title-deeds of an earthly house in possession may be locked up in
security, and never looked to but when the right of property is
questioned-so our creed, with all its articles, may be laid up in
the depository of our mind, and there lie in deep and undisturbed
repose, till our right of entry into the house that is not made with
hands, and is eternal in the heavens, comes under examination,
among the other topics of the great day of inquiry. We do not
think it possible that the essential truths of the Gospel can be actually believed, without being afterwards the topic of daily, and
unceasing, and practical recurrence.  But even though they
could, they would, upon such an event, be of no influence towards
the salvation of the believer. The apostle tells us expressly, if
they are not kept in memory they are believed in vain. By the
Gospel we are saved, not if we merely believe it, but if we keep
it in memory. It is not enough that it have been once acquiesced
in: it must ever, and through the whole futurity of our earthly
existence, be habitually adverted to. It is not enough that it be
sleeping in the mind's hidden repository: it must be in the mind's
eye. It must be kept in remembrance; and that, too, for the purpose of being called to remembrance. It is not enough that it be
in the mind's latent custody: it must be in constant waiting, as it
were, for being summoned into the mind's presence —and its efficacy unto salvation, it would appear. consists not in the mind
knowing it, but in the mind thinking of it.
This will be better illustrated by a particular truth. One of
those truths to which the apostle alludes, as being indispensable
to be kept in memory, in order to be of any efficacy, is, that Christ
died for our sins. It is not enough then, it would appear, simply
to have believed that Christ died for our sins. This fact must ever
and anon be recalled to our memory. It is by no means enough,
that we, at one time, were sure of this truth. It is a truth that
must be dwelt upon. It is not to be thrown aside as a forgotten
thing, which at one time gave entertainment to our thoughts. It
must live in our daily recollections. It is not enough that we have
taken hold of this dependence. We must keep hold of it: nor
does faith even in this save us, unless that which is believed be the
topic of ever-recurring contemplation.
For this purpose, the habit of a great and continuous effort on
the part of the human mind is indispensable. We know how all
the truths of Christianity, and this one among the number, are apt
to slip from the attention; and what a combat with the tenden
cies of nature it takes to retain our hold of thein. It is setting us
to a work of great difficulty and great strenuousness, simply to
bid us keep in memory the truths of that Gospel by which we are
saved. They may have entered our mind with the force of allpowerful evidence-and they may have filled it with a sense of
their supreme importance —and they may have ministered in the
hour of silence and devotion, an influence to relieve, and to com



SERLE'S CHRISTIAN REMEMBRANCER.            235
fort and to elevate-and yet after all, will we find it a mighty
struggle with the infirmities of our constitution, to keep these
truths in memory all the day long. We will find, that among tihe
urgencies of this world's business, the one and simple truth, that
Christ died for our sins, will take its flight for hours together, and
never once be presented to the mind, even in the form of a slight
and momentary visitation.  To be ever recurring to this truthto give it an hourly place, along with the multitude of other
thoughts that are within us —to turn it into a matter of habitual
occupation for that mind, the property of which, throughout all
the moments of its waking existence, is to be ever thinking —this
is an enterprise in every way as arduous as to work against the
current of nature.  It is not laying upon us a task that is either
easy or insignificant, when we are told to keep the essentials of
the Gospel in our frequent remembrance.  It is the experience of
all who have honestly tried it, that it is exceedingly difficult-and
yet, so far from a matter of insignificance, it is the averment of
the apostle, that if we keep not the Gospel in memory, we will not
be saved.
We know it to be a work of difficulty, for a man overcome
with drowsiness, to keep his eyes open. Suppose that by so doing.
he is only made to look on a set of of objects which offend and
disturb him, we may readily conceive how gladly, in these circumstances, he will make his escape from the hateful imagery
which surrounds him, by repairing to the sweet oblivion of nature.
But, on the other hand, should his eyes, when open, have a scene
of loveliness before them, by which the soul is regaled, and brightened into sensations that are every way agreeable, then, though
an effort be necessary to keep himself awake, yet there is a better
chance of the effort being actually made.  There will be a reward and an enjoyment to go along with it; and the man, in these
new circumstances, would both be in a state of pleasurable feeling, and, at the same time, in a constant struggle to maintain his
wakefulness. However delightful the prospect that is before him,
this will not supersede the necessity of a strenuous endeavor to
keep himself in the posture of observation. And so of the mind's
eve, in the mental scenery that is before it. Under all the stir,
and activity, and delight of nature's movements, may the soul be
profoundly immersed in the slumbers of nature's carnality. It
may be spiritually asleep, even when busily engaged with the
passing insignificant dreams of our present world. It is indeed a
great transition on every son and daughter of our species when
he becomes awake to the realities of faith, and is made to perceive
the existence and the weight of things invisible. But if all he is
made thus to perceive, be the dark and menacing imagery of terror-if he see nothing but God's holiness on the one hand, and his
own sinfulness on the other-if on looking to the sanctuary above,
he see nothing but the fire of a devouring jealousy in readiness to




236           SERLE S CHRISTIAN REMIEMBRANCER.
go forth over the whole region of disloyalty to heaven's law;
and, on looking to himself, he see that he is within the limits of
the territory of guilt, and liable to the doom that is in reserve for
it, we may perceive the readiness with which many a half-awakened sinner will try to make his escape from the pain and the
agitation of such frightful contemplations as these; and how gladly
he will cradle his soul back again into its old insensibility, and find
a refuge fiom the whole alarm of faithful sermons, and arousing
providences, and constantly recurring deaths in the circle of his
much-loved acquaintanceship, in the forgetfulness of a nature,
which, by its own drowsiness, may be so easily lulled into a state
of unconcern about these things. The man will not, if he can help
it, make an effort to keep himself awake, if all he get by it is a
spectacle of pain: if he get a spectacle of pleasure by it, he may
be prevailed upon. Still, even in this latter case, an effort would
be necessary: even after the dread representation of the law is
succeeded by the bright and cheering representation of the Gospel,
it will still be like the offering of a beauteous and inviting spectacle to the eyes of a man who is like to be overcome with drowsiness. There must be a sustained endeavor on his part to keep
himself awake. He will ever and anon be relapsing into the
slumbers of worldly and alienated nature, if he do not put forth
a strenuousness on the object of keeping the truths of the Gospel
in his memory. So long as he is encompassed with a vile body
of sin and of infirmity, which will at length be pulverized by
death, and transformed at the resurrection, there will be a struggle with the sleeping propensities that will still be about him
towards the things that are unseen and spiritual.  Great will be
his pleasure, even here, in the objects of his believing contemplation; but great also must be the effort of painful and unceasing
diligence to support the contemplation itself.  He will just be like
a drowsy spectator, with a fine and fascinating landscape before
him, the charm of which he wvould like to prolong to the utter~
most. And however engaging the prospect which the Gospel sets
before him, however cheering the promises, however effectually the
truth that Christ died for our-sins, chases away all the fears of the
law, when it proclaims, that for every sin that the creature has
dared to perpetrate, a holy and an avenging God must be satisfied;
still we mistake it, if we think that no effort on the part of the
mind is necessary to detain within the reach of its vision this
bright and beautiful representation. Though called to rejoice in
the Lord alway, yet there must be a putting forth of strength and
of vigilance in the work of looking unto Jesus, and of considering
Him who is the Apostle and High Priest of our profession.
II. The nature of that salvation which the Gospel reveals, has
been so fully exhibited by Mr. SERLE, in the First Part of this
excellent Treatise, as to render any lengthened exposition of it in
this place unnecessary. But it is worthy of remark, that, perhaps,




SERLE S CHRISTIAN REMEMBRANCER.            237
there is not a passage in the Bible more fitted to instruct us in
what the salvation of Christianity really is, than' the expression
of the apostle, to which we have so frequently adverted, that unless we keep the truths of the Gospel in memory, we have believed
in vain. The ordinary conception upon the subject is, that it is a
rescue from hell, with a right of entry and admittance into
heaven. And our faith is supposed to be our title-deed; a passport of conveyance, upon the examination of which we are carried in the train of our Saviour and our Judge to paradise; a
thing we fear, apprehended by many to be of no other use than
merely to be retained in a sort of secure keeping; that, when
found in our possession on the last day, it may then be sustained
as our claim to the promised inheritance of glory. Now the
apostle tells us, that were it possible to believe the truth without
being mindful of the truth, the belief is in vain: in other words,
its main use to salvation does not lie in the possession of it then,
but in the influence and operation of it now. When placed before the judgment-seat of Christ, it will be known whether we are
of the faith; and there is no doubt that this faith will open the
door of heaven's kingdom to all who possess it. But, let it well
be understood, that this is not the alone, nor even the most important function of faith. It does not lie in useless reserve on this
side of time, till the occasion comes round, when on the other side
of time, it will vest us with a right of admittance into heaven. Its
main operation is our good here, by the thing which has been believed being also the thing that is remembered. Were its only use
to confer a title upon us, it might lie in store like an old charter,
forgotten for years, but securing its purpose whenever there is a
call for its production.  But it has another use besides conferring
a title: it confers a character.  It does something more than
cause the place to be made ready for us: it causes us to be made
ready for the place. We believe in vain unless we remember:
but it is the habitual advertency of the mind to the great truths of
the Gospel-it is the unceasing recurrence of its thoughts to them
— it is the practice of ever and anon calling them to consideration, and dwelling upon them from one day, and from one hour to
another-it is this which appears to stamp upon faith its main efficacy towards salvation. And why? Because salvation lies in
deliverance from sin, as well as from punishment-because salvation consists in being introduced to the character of heaven,
as well as into heaven itself —because by salvation there is not
merely the prospect of another habitation, but there is the working of another principle; and the way in which the memory must
be added to faith, else we have believed in vain, is, that the memory, by calling the truths of the Gospel into the mind's presence,
reiterates upon the mind a moral and a sanctifying influence,
which would be altogether unfelt if these truths were forgotten.
It is because the memory perpetuates the flame which was first




238           SERLE S CHRISTIAN REMEMBR~ANCER.
lighted by the faith of Christianity-it is because if faith work by
love, then the memory is necessary to the alimenting of this holy
affection; and if it be one use of faith to justifv the sinner in the
sight of God, a no less important use of faith is, that through a
habitual remembrance of the truths that are the objects of it, the
sinner is brought under the constant operation of a moral influence, by which he is sanctified and made meet for the inheritance.
III. The truths to which the apostle adverts, when he assures
us, that unless we keep them in memory we have believed in vain,
are, that Christ died for our sins, according to the Scriptures; and
that, after He was buried, He rose again. Let the first truth be
habitually present to the mind, and the mind will feel itself habitually lightened of the whole terror and bondage of legality.
That weight of overhanging despair, which, in fact, represses
every attempt at obedience, by making it altogether hopeless, will
be taken off from the wearied spirit, and it will break forth with
the full play of its emancipated powers on the free and open
space of reconciliation. There is nothing that so chains the
inactivity of a human being as hopelessness. There is nothing
that so paralyzes him, as the undefined, but haunting insecurity
and terror, which he cannot shake away. We must be sensible
of the new spring that is given to the energies of him who is
overwhelmed with debt, when he obtains his discharge. So long
as he felt that all was irrecoverable he did nothing; but when he
gets his enlargement, he runs with the alacrity of a new-acquired
freedom in the path of industry. Now, in the spiritual life, it is
this very enlargement which gives rise to this very activity. It
is the glad tidings of a release, by Him who hath paid the ransom
of our iniquities, that sets our feet in a sure place-that opens up
to us a career of new obedience-that levels the barrier which
keeps us without hope, and therefore without God in the world -
that places us, as it were, in a free and unobstructed avenue, in
which, by every step that we advance upon it, we draw nearer
to that Jerusalem above, the gates of which are now thrown open
to receive us. The real effect of the doctrine of Jesus Christ and
Him crucified, upon the believer, is utterly the reverse of this
world's imagination upon the subject. It does not beget the delusion in his mind of an impunity for sinning; but it chases away
that heavy soporific from his moral faculties, which the sense of
a broken law, when unaccompanied by the faith of an offered
Gospel, will ever minister to the heart; that let him struggle as he
may, and keep as strenuously from sinning as he may, it will be
of no use to him. The truth that Christ died for our sins, so far
from a soporific, is a stimulus to our obedience; and it is when
this truth enters with power into the heart, that the believer can
take up the language of the Psalmist and say, "Thou hast enlarged my heart, and I will now run in the way of thy testimonies."




SERLE'S CHRISTIAN REMEMBRANCER.            239
But if such be the influence of this truth when present to the
mind, it must, in order to have a habitual influence, be habitually
present. In order to work upon the habit and character of the
soul, it must ever be offering itself to the notice, and ever reiterating the impulse it is fitted to give to all the feelings, and to all
the faculties. We know not a single doctrine, which by its perpetual recurrence to the thoughts, is more fitted to keep the mind
in a right state for obedience.  Now, in order that the great work
of sanctification go forward, the mind should be constantly in this
state.  Let, this truth be expunged, and for all the purposes of
spiritual conformity to the will of God, the whole man will go
into unhingement.  But let this truth be lighted up in the soullet it be kept shining at all times within its receptacles —let the
trust never cease to lean upon it, and the memory never cease to
recall it, and the hope never cease to dwell upon it —let it only
show itself among the crowd of this world's turmoils and anxieties —and whatever the urgencies be, which harass and beset a
man on the path of his daily history, let such be the habit of his
mind, that in obedience to this truth, the thought is present with
him of his main chance being secured; the animating sense of
this will bear him on in triumph through manifold agitations: and
when like to sink and give way under the pressure of this world's
weariness, and this world's distraction, this will come in aid of
his faltering spirit, and carry him in sacredness, and in safety to
his final landing-place.
We have not room to expatiate on the influence of the other
truth, that Christ rose again-that He eyes every disciple from
that summit of observation to which He has been exalted-that
the sin for which He died He holds in irreconcilable hatred-and
that the purpose of His mediatorship was not merely to atone for
its guilt, but utterly to root out its existence and its power from
the hearts of all who believe in Him.  The Christian who is
haunted at all hours of the day by this sentiment, will feel that to
sin is to thwart the purpose upon which his Saviour's heart is set,
and to crucify Him afresh. This, however, to be kept in power,
must be kept in memory. And as with the former truth, if we
carry it about with us at all times, we will walk before God without fear, so with it and the latter truth put together, if both are
carried about with us, will we also walk before him in righteousness, and in holiness, all the days of our lives.
But it ought to be remembered, that if we are not mindful of
these truths, we positively do not believe them. If we have not
the memory, it is a clear evidence that we have not the faith. It
is impossible but the mind must be always recurring to matters in
which it has a great personal interest, if it only have a sense of
their reality.  We should try ourselves by this test, and be assured, that if we are not going on unto perfection through the
constant and practical influence of the great doctrines of Christi



240           S:ERLE S CHRISTIAN REMEMBRANCER.
anity upon our heart, we need yet to learn what be the first principles of the oracles of God.
It is firom these considerations that we estimate so highly the
following valuable Treatise of Mr. SERLE, " THE CHRISTIAN REMEMRRANCER," in which the great and essential truths of Christianity are exhibited in a luminous and practical manner. But, it
is not merely those more essential truths of the Gospel which form
the foundation of a sinner's hope, that he brings to our remembrance; the operative nature of these truths, as inwardly experienced by the believer, in the formation of the spiritual life-the
sanctifying influence of Christian truth over the affections and
character of the believer-the whole preceptive code of social
and relative duties to which, as members of society, Christianity
requires our obedience-in fine, the whole Christian system  of
doctrines and duties is presented in a plain and practical manner,
well fitted to assist the understanding in attaining a correct and
intimate acquaintance with the truths of Christianity; while the
brief; but distinct and impressive form in which they are presented,
is no less fitted to assist the memory in its recollection of them.
The Treatise, as the Author remarks, is rather intended for hints
to carry on the mind to farther meditations, than for full and exact meditations themselves; and it is brought into narrow compass, that the serious Christian may find it a little Remembrancer,
with many short errands to his heart.  And as the reader, from
our previous observations, will not fail to remark, that it is not
the mere knowledge or possession of any truth, but the constant
remembrance of it, which can give it an operative influence over
the mind, and make it issue in those practical results which such
a truth is fitted to produce-so, however important those precious
truths are which are so clearly and impressively presented in the
following Treatise, yet they can have no saving or salutary influence, without being kept in constant remembrance.
If it have not been our habit hitherto to call to mind the essential truths of the Gospel, we ought to begin now, and by reason
of use we will be sure to make progress in it. Whether it be the
work of an artisan, or the work of a merchant, there is room for
this thought in short and frequent intervals, that Christ died for
our sins; and we are confident that, if we are believers, the
thought will leave a pacifying and a holy influence behind it.
God has proclaimed a connection between the presence of Gospel
truth to the understanding, and the power of Gospel affections over
that heart. He has told us that faith worketh by love; and we,
by constantly recurring to the great objects of faith, are putting
that very instrument into operation by which God sanctifies all
those who have received his testimony in behalf of Jesus Christ
his Son.
If we receive the truths of Christianity, we are not merely put
in possession of them as title-deeds to a blessed inheritance above,




SERLE S CHRISTIAN REMEMBRANCER.            241
to be presented after death for our entrance into heaven: they are
also instruments to be made use of before death, for graving upon
us, as At were, the character of heaven. And when the day of
judgment comes, it is not by a direct inspection of the title-deeds
that our right to heaven will be ascertained; it is by the inspection of that which has been engraven by the truths of' Christianity,
operating as so many instruments upon our character. Christ will
look to the inscription that has been made upon our hearts and
lives: so, while nothing can be more true, than that it is by faith
we are justified, it is in fullest harmony with this truth, that it is
by works we are judged.
31




INTRODUCTORY ESSAY
TO THE
CHRISTIAN'S GREAT INTEREST.
IN TWO PARTS.
BY THE REV. WILLIAM GUTHRIE.
THERE are few subjects or exercises more deeply important to
professing Christians, than that which forms the principal topic in
the following admirable Treatise-the work of self-examination.
But self-examination is a work of great difficulty, and is accordingly shrunk from, or altogether declined by the great body of
professing Christians. It is more the habitual style of the mind's
contemplations to look at that which is without, than at that which
is within-and it is far easier to read the epistles of the written
Record, than to read the tablet of one's own heart, and so to ascertain whether it be indeed a living epistle of Christ Jesus our
Lord. There is something so shadowy and evanescent in the
phases of the human spirit-such a want of the distinct and of the
tangible, in its various characteristics-such a turmoil, and confusion, and apparent incoherence in the rapid succession of those
thoughts, and impulses, and emotions, which find their way through
the avenues of the inner man-that men, as if lost in the mazes of
a labyrinth, deem the world which is within to be the most hopeless and impracticable of all mysteries-nor in the whole range of
their varied speculations, do they meet with that which more baffles their endeavors to seize upon, than the busy principle that is
lodged within them, and has taken up its residence in the familiar
intimacies of their own bosom.
The difficulty of knowing our own heart is much enhanced, if
we are in quest of some character or some lineament which is but
faintly engraven thereupon. When the thing that we are seeking
for is so very dim, or so very minute, as to be almost indiscernible,
this makes it a far more fatiguing exercise-and, it may be, an altogether fruitless one. Should then the features of our personal
Christianity be yet slightly or obscurely formed, it will need a




CHRISTIAN'S- GREAT INTERESTe            243
more intense and laborious -scrutiny ere we can possibly:recognize them. Shoid' there be a languor in our love to God-should
there be a frailty in our purposes of obedience —should there be
a trembling indecision of principle, and the weakness or the wavering of a mind that is scarcely made up on the question of a preference for time or for eternity, let us not marvel, though all disguised as these seeds and elements of regeneration within us may
be, amid the vigorous struggles of the old man, and the remaining
urgencies of a nature which will not receive its death-blow but
with the same stroke that brings our bodies to the dust-let us not
marvel, if in these circumstances the hardships of the search should
deter many from undertaking it-and though after months, or
even years of earnestness in religion, the disciple may still be
in ignorance of himself, as if blindfolded from the view of his
own character; or, if arrested at the threshold by a sense of its
many difficulties, the work of self-examination has not yet been
entered on.
It is thus that the dark and unsearchable nature of the subject
operates insensibly but powerfully as a restraint on self-examination-and certainly there would be encouragement felt to begin
this exercise, were it made to appear in the light of a more practicable exercise, that could really and successfully be gone through.
It is just as if set upon the task of searching for some minute article on the floor of an apartment, of which the windows had been
partially closed-a weary and a hopeless undertaking, till the sun
has fully risen, and the shutters have been altogether unfolded,
and the greatest possible supply of light has been admitted into
the room. Then the search might be entered upon with vigor,
and just because now it could be entered upon with the alacrity
of a comfortable expectation. The work is less repulsive, because easier —and now might the whole surface of this trial for a
discovery be patiently explored, just because now a greater visibility had been poured over it.
This leads to a remark, which though a mere preliminary to the
subject of self-examination, we nevertheless deem to be one of
great practical importance. We think that however inscrutable
at this moment our mind may be, and however faintly the marks
and the characteristics of our Christianity are delineated thereupon, yet that even now the inward survey ought to be commenced,
and renewed at frequent intervals, and daily persevered in. But,
meanwhile, and to facilitate the search, we should do the very
thing that is done in the case of a dark apartment. There should
be as much light as possible thrown upon the subject from without. If the lineaments of grace within us be faint, that ought
instantly to be done which might have the effect of brightening
them into a more lucid distinctness, and so making the work of
discovery easier than before. If the love, and the joy, and the
grateful devotedness to his Saviour's will, wherewith the heart of




244             CHRISTIAN S GREAT INTEREST.
a believer is animated, be hardly discernible in his efforts to ascertain them, this is the very reason why all those direct expedients should forthwith be resorted to for stirring up the love, and
for exciting the joy, and for fixing in the bosom that grateful devotedness which he is now going so fruitlessly in quest of, and
which, if they exist at all, are so shrunken in magnitude, or so enveloped in their own dimness, that they have hitherto eluded all
his endeavors to seek after them, if haply he may find them.
iNow it is not by continuing to pore inwardly that we will shed a
greater lustre over the tablet of our own character, any more than
we can enlighten the room in which we sit by the straining of our
eyes towards the various articles which are therein distributed. In
the one case, we take help from the window, and through it from
the sun of nature-and this not to supersede the proposed investigation on our part, but altogether to aid and encourage us in that
investigation. And in the other case, that the eye of the mind
may look with advantage upon itself inwardly, should it often look
outwardly to those luminaries which are suspended from the canopy of that revelation which is from  above-we should throw
widely open the portal of faith, and this is the way by which light
is admitted into the chambers of experience-in defect of a manifest love, and a manifest loyalty, and a manifest sacredness of
heart, which we have been seeking for in vain amongst the ambiguities of the inner man, we should expose the whole of this mysterious territory to the influences of the Sun of righteousness, and
this is done by gazing upon him with a believer's eye. It is by
regarding the love wherewith God in Christ hath loved us, that
the before cold and sluggish heart is roused into the respondency
of love back again. That the work of reading be made more
easy, the character must be made more legible. That Christianity be clearly reflected from our own bosom, all must be laid open
to the Christianity of the Record. If we derive no good from the
work of self-examination, because we find that all is confusion and
mistiness within, then let us go forth upon the truths which are
without, and these will pour a flood of light into all the mazes and
intricacies of the soul, and, at length, render that work easy,
which before was impracticable. No doubt, it is by looking inwardly that we discover what is in the mind-but it is by looking
outwardly that we so brighten and bring out its characteristics,
as to make these discernible. The gratitude that was before unfelt, because it lay dormant, let us awaken it by the sight of Him
who was lifted upon the cross for our offences, and then will it
meet the observation. The filial affection for our Father in heaven, which before was dead, let us quicken it into a felt and gracious
sensibility, by looking unto Him in His revealed attitude of graciousness, and at our next exercise of self-inspection, we will be
sure to find it. To revive the power of a life that is to come, which
the despair of guilt had utterly extinguished in the soul, let us cast




CHRISTIAN' S GREAT INTEREST.            245
our believing regard on the promises of the Gospel-and this will
set it up again, and then will we more readily ascertain, that our
happiness in time is less dear to us than our hopes for eternity.
It is thus that by the contemplation of that which is without, we
brighten the consciousness of that which is within-and the more
manifest the things of revelation are to the eye of faith, the more
manifest will the things of experience be to the eye of conscience
-and the more distinctly we can view the epistles of Christ in
the written Record, the more discernible will its counterpart be
in that epistle which is written not with pen and ink, but by the
Spirit of God, on the fleshly tablets of our own heart. And so
the work of faith, instead of being proposed by us as a substitute,
we should propose as the readiest help, and far the best preparative for the work of self-examination.
It were well, if thus we could compose the jealousy of those
who deem it legal to go in quest of evidence-but better still, if
we could guide the practice of those with whom the business of
salvation forms a practical and not a merely theoretical or speculative question.
And first, we would say to them, that so far from setting faith
aside by the work of self-examination, we hold that it is the former
which supplies the latter with all its materials, and sheds that light
over them which makes them visible to the eye of consciousness.
Were there no faith, there would be no'fruits to inquire afterand it were utterly in vain to go a seeking where there was absolutely nothing to find. To a sinner in distress, we unfold the pardon of the Gospel; and we bid him look unto Jesus that he may
rejoice. We surely could not say less than this to an inquirer in
darkness, even though it be a darkness that has gathered and
rests over the tablet of his own character, and hides from his own
view all that is good and gracious thereupon. Should the eye fail
of its discernment when turned inwardly upon the evidences, we
should bid it turn outwardly upon the promises, and this is the
way to bring down a clear and satisfying light upon the soul.
Just as in some minute and difficult search over the floor of an
apartment, we throw open all its windows to the sun of nature,
so we ought, by faith, to throw open all the chambers of the inner
man to the light of the Sun of Righteousness. They are the
truths that be without, which give rise to the traces of a spiritual
workmanship within-and the indistinctness of the latter is just
the reason why the soul should be ever aiming by attention and belief at a communication with the former. When self-examination is
at a loss to read the characters which are written upon the heart,
it is faith alone which can make the inscription more legible-and
never will man get acquainted with the home of his own bosom.
but by constant supplies of light and influence from abroad. If
we feel, then, an outset of difficulty, in the work of self-examination, let us go anew to the fountain-head of revelation, and there




246             CHRISTIAN' S GREAT INTEREST.
warm, into a sensibility that may be felt, the cold and the faded
lineaments of that image which it is the genuine tendency of the
truth as it is in Jesus to impress upon the soul. That we may
prosper when we examine ourselves, whether we are in the faith,
we should have the faith. We should keep it in daily and habitual
exercise, and this will strengthen it. If we be familiar with the
truths that are without, less will be our difficulty in recognizing
the traces that are within. The more we gaze upon the radiance,
the brighter will we glow with the reflection —and so far from
opposition in the exercises of self-examination and of faith, there
is the most necessary concert, the most important and beautiful
harmony.
But, secondly-whatever difficulties there be in self-examination, we should even now make a beginning of the work. We
should at least try it-and if we do not succeed, repeat it again
and again. We should set ourselves formally down to it, as we
would to a prescribed task-and it were well too if we had a prescribed time every day for the doing of it, and let a whole month
of honest and sustained perseverance pass over our heads, ere we
say of the work that it is impracticable. The more we live a life
of faith through the day, the more distinct and legible will be that
other page in the record of our personal history, which we shall
have to peruse on the evening-and however little we may have
sped at this trial of self-examination, we will either be encouraged
or rebuked by it, into a life of greater effort and watchfulness on
the morrow. In the business of each day, there will be a reference to the account and settlement that we make at the end of it
-and the conclusion of each night will serve either to rectify the
errors of our preceding history, or to animate us the more in that
path by which we are moving sensibly onward to the heights of
moral and spiritual excellence. Thus indeed will we make a
business of our sanctification-and, instead of that vague, and
shadowy, and altogether chimerical affair which we apprehend to
be the religion of many a professor in our day, will it become a
matter of solid and practical acquisitions, each of which shall have
a visible reality in time, and each of which, by adding to the
treasure in heaven, will have its distinct bearing on the interests
of eternity.
Now when we set about any new exercise whatever, we first
begin with that which is easy, and afterwards proceed therefrom
to that which is more arduous. In the work of self-examination,
there is a scale of difficulty-and it were well, perhaps, that we
should make our first entrance upon the work at some of its lower
gradations, lest we begin our attempt at too high a place, and be
repelled altogether, by finding that it is utterly inaccessible.
To guide us aright, then, in this matter, we might observe, that
the overt acts of our visible history, are far more noticeable by
the eye of self-examination than those affections of the heart by




CHRISTIAN S GREAT INTEREST.            247
which they have been prompted-and, therefore, if not yet able
to read the devices of the inner man, let our first attempt be to
read the doings of the outer man: "Hereby know we that we
know Him, if we keep his commandments." This is a palpable
test, in as far, at least, as the hand, or the mouth, or the footsteps,
or any of the bodily organs, are concerned-and a series of questions regarding these were a good elementary introduction to the
work of self-examination.-Have we, throughout the whole course
of this day, uttered the language of profaneness, or contempt, or
calumny?  Or have we said any of those foolish things which
might be ranked among the idle words of which men shall give
account on the day of judgment  Or have we expressed ourselves to any of our fellows in the tone of fretfulness and irritation? Or have we on Sabbath refrained our attendance on the
public ministrations, and instead of the readings and the conternplations, and the devout exercises of sacredness, have we given
any time to the business and society of the world? Or have we
been guilty of disrespect and negligence towards parents, and
masters, and superiors of any kind? Or have we done any acts
of mischief and revenge to the man whom we hate? Or have
we wilfully directed our eye to that which was fitted to kindle the
affections, or lead to the purposes of licentiousness? Or have we
put fobrth a hand of violence on the property of our neighbor;
and, what is an offence of the same species, have we taken an
undue advantage of him in the petty contests and negotiations of
the exchange, or of the market-place? Or have we spoken, if
not a direct falsehood, at least a cunningly devised utterance,
which, by the tone, and manner, and apparent artlessness of it,
was calculated to deceive? Or have we gone to any of the
excesses of intemperance, whether of that drunkenness which
inflames the faculties, or of that surfeiting which damps and overweighs them. And what this day have been our deeds of beneficence —what our attentions of kindness and charity-what our
efforts or our sacrifices in the walk of Christian usefulness-what
our almsgiving to the poor-what our labors of piety, either among
the habitations of ignorance, or with the members of our own
family? These are all matters that stand broadly and discernibly
out to the eye of consciousness. They form what may be called
the large and legible types on the tablet of self-examination.
They form, as it were, the primer, or the alphabet of this most
important branch of scholarship. It is as easy for us to frame a
catalogue of these questions, and sit regularly down every evening to the task of applying them in succession to our recent history, and meet them with as prompt and clear a reply, as it is for
us to tell at the end of each day, what were the visits that we
performed, or the people whom we have conversed with, or the
walks that we have taken, or the bargains that we have concluded.
There's nothing of reconditeness or mystery whatever in this




248             CHRISTIAN S GREAT INTEREST.
process, at least, of self-examination; and by entering immediately upon it, may we at length be qualified for those more profound exercises by which the intimacies of the heart are probed;
and be able to arrive at a finding, and a familiarity with the now
hidden depths of a spiritual experience.
There is much to be gathered even from this more rude and
elementary process of self-examination. *' By their fruits shall
ye know them," says our Saviour; and, after all, much may be
learned of the real character of our affections, from the acts in
which they terminate. In natural husbandry, one may judge of
the vegetation from the crop. It is not indispensable that we dive
into the secrets of physiology, or that we be skilled in the anatomy
and organization of plants, or that, with the eye of direct observation, we can satisfy ourselves as to the soundness of the root,
or the healthful circulation of the juices which ascend firom it.
There is no doubt, that a good internal economy forms the very
essence of vegetable health; and yet how many an agriculturalist, from whom this essence lies hid in deepest mystery, can
pronounce upon that which is spread visibly before him, that there
has indeed been a grateful and prosperous return for his labors.
He knows that there has been a good and abundant growth, though,
in the language of a Gospel parable, whose design is to illustrate
this very thing, " he knoweth not how." And so, to a great extent, of spiritual husbandry. One may be profoundly ignorant of
moral science. He may not be able to grope his way among the
arcana of the inner man. There might not be a more inscrutable thing to him in nature, than the mystery of his own spirit;
and not a darker or more impenetrable chaos, than that heart
which ever teemeth with the abundance of its own thoughts and its
own counsels. Yet from the abundance of that heart the mouth
speaketh; and words are audible things —and out of that heart are
the issues of life; and the deeds of our life or history are visible
things —and as the heart prompteth so the hand performeth-and
thus a legible expression is sent forth, even from the depths of an
else unsearchable cavern, which we at least have never entered,
either to sound its recesses, or to read the characters that are
graven within its secret chambers of imagery. If we cannot go
profoundly to work, let us go to it plainly. If the fountain be hid
let us take cognizance of the stream that issueth from the outlets.
If we cannot guage the designs, let us at least institute a questionary process upon the doings; and if we have wearied ourselves
in vain at searching for the marks of grace upon the soul, let us
remember that the body is its instrument and its vehicle, and we
may at least examine ourselves as to all its movements of accordancy with the ten commandments.
Let us therefore be in earnest in this work of self-examination,
which is reputed to be of so much difficulty, and immediately do
that which we can; and thus will we at length be qualified for




CHRISTIAN S GREAT INTEREST.            249
doing that which we at present cannot. Let it be the task of
every evening to review the palpable history of every day; and
if we cannot dive into the heart, we may at least take cognizance
of the handywork. We may not yet be able to analyze the feelings which enter into the hidden life of obedience; but we can
take account of the literalities of obedience. The hasty utterance
by which we wounded another's sensibilities —the pleasantries by
which we enlivened a festive circle, at the expense of some absent
character-the tone of offence or imperiousness into which some
domestic annoyance hath provoked us —the excess into which we
have been betrayed amid the glee of merry companionship-the
neglect of prayer and of the Bible, into which we have once more
been led by distaste, or indolence, or the urgency of this world's
business-these, and many more, are surely noticeable things,
which can be recalled by the memory, and rebuked by the moral
sense, of the most ordinary Christian; and which, if so dealt with
at the close of any day, might give to the morrow's walk a greater
care and a greater conscientiousness.
What we ought to do is to begin now the work of self examination-we should now make a practical outset, and do forthwith
all that our attainment and ability will let us-we should not despise the day of small things, nor idly postpone the work of selfexamination till a sense, and a spirit, and a subtlety, which we at
present have not, shall come upon us, as if by inspiration. If the
inward motions be too faint and fugitive for us to apprehend, let
us lay hold at least of the outward movements, and by a faithfuil
retrospect and reformation of these, will our senses at length be
exercised to discern both the good and the evil. What we ought
to chase away from the habit of the soul is a certain quietism of
inert and inactive speculation, when lulled by the jingle of an unmeaning orthodoxy, it goeth not forth with its loins girded, as
well as its lamp burning, and only dreams of a coming glory, and
immortality, and honor, instead of seeking for them by a patient
continuance in well-doing. We ought earnestly to make a business of our Christianity, and be diligent in doing that which our
hand findeth to do; and if at present the mysteries of a deeper
experience look so remote and inaccessible that we cannot apprehend them, let us at least question ourselves most strictly as to the
doings of our ordinary path; and under the guidance of that
Spirit whose office it is to reveal all truth, will we, at length, be
disciplined for greater things than these.
In prosecuting the business of self-inspection, it is of importance
that we be guided aright in our inquiries into our spiritual state;
and we know of few works better fitted to assist the honest inquirer in his search, than MR. GUTHRIE'S " CHRISTIAN's GREAT INTEREST." It is divided into Two Parts, " The Trial. of a Saving
Interest in Christ," and " How to attain to a Saving Interest in
Christ;" and we think it impossible to peruse this valuable Trea32




250              CHRISTIAN S GREAT INTEREST.
tise, with the candor and sincerity of an honest mind, without arriving at a solid conclusion as to our spiritual condition. His experimental acquaintance with the operations and genuine fruits of
the Spirit, and his intimate knowledge of the workings of the human heart, fitted him for applying the tests of infallible truth to
aid us in ascertaining what spirit we are of-for exposing and
dissipating the false hopes of the hypocrite-for leading the careless Christian to investigate the causes of his declension in godliness, and to examine anew whether he be in the faith-and for
detecting and laying open the fallacies and delusions which men
practise on themselves, in regard to the state of their souls. He
faithfully exposes the insidious nature of that deceitfulness of the
human heart, which lulls men into a false security, while their
Christianity is nothing more than a heartless and hollow profession, and they are standing exposed to the fearful condemnation
denounced against those who have "a name to live, but are
dead."
Nor is his clear and scriptural exhibition of the dispensation of
grace less fitted to guide the humble inquirer into the way of salvation. As a faithful ambassador of Christ, he is free and un eserved in his offers of pardon and reconciliation, through the
death and obedience of Christ, to the acceptance of sinners; but
he is no less faithful in stating and asserting the claims of the
Gospel, to an unshrinking and universal obedience, and to an undisputed supremacy over the heart and affections.  And to aid
the sincere Christian in the cultivation of the spiritual life, he urgently enjoins an implicit acquiescence in the guidance and intimations of the Holy Spirit, through whose operation it is that a
cordial and affectionate faith in the whole of God's testimony can
be wrought in the soul; by whose spiritual illumination it is that
the truth becomes the instrument of sanctifying and saving us;
while by the inward experience of the Spirit's light, and comfort,
and renewing power, combined with the outward and visible
growth of the fruits of righteousness, in the character, we acquire
the best and surest evidence that we have obtained a saving
interest in Christ.
The intimate acquaintance which he manifests with the spiritual
life, and his clear, affectionate, and earnest expositions of the peculiar doctrines of the Gospel, render this Treatise a precious
companion to the sincere Christian; while his powerful and ur
gent appeals to the conscience are peculiarly fitted to awaken
men to a concern about those matters to which the Scriptures
attach such an infinite importance; to lead them in earnest to
avoid the possibility of continuing in deception; and to constrain
them to seek after a full assurance on that subject on which,
above all others, it becomes men to be well assured.




INTRODUCTORY ESSAY
TO THE
GRACE AND DUTY OF BEING SPIRITUALLY MINDED,
DECLARED, AND PRACTICALLY IMPROVED.
BY JOHN OWEN, D.D.
WE formerly observed, in our Essay to "Guthrie's Christian's
Great Interest," that such is the great difficulty of self-examination, that it were well, if, instead of attempting at first the more
arduous, the Christian disciple should begin with the more elementary of its exercises. And for this purpose, at his entrance
upon this most useful work, he might commence with a daily review, if not of the affections of his heart, at least of the actions of
his visible history. These are far more palpable than the others,
and have somewhat of that superior facility for the observation of
them, which the properties of matter have over those of the hidden and unseen spirit. The great thing wanted is, that he should
be encouraged to make the attempt in any way-and therefore do
we repeat our admonition, that on each evening, ere sleep has
closed his eyes, he should summon to his remembrance those
deeds of the day that have passed over him, which else might
have vanished from the mind forever, or at least till that eventful
occasion when the book of their imperishable record shall be
opened. And it is good also that he should sit in judgment as
well as in memory over them. Let him thus judge himself, and
he shall not be judged. The daily remembrance of the one great
Sacrifice will wash away the guilt of those daily aberrations that
are faithfully recalled and truly repented of; and if there be a
reality in that sanctifying influence which faith is said to bring
along with it, then will the very act by which he confesses the
remembered sins of the day, both bring peace to his conscience,
and purity to his conduct.
And this mere cognizance, not of the heart, but of the handywork, brings us to the faith and spirituality of the Gospel by a
shorter path than may be apprehended. It is true, that the mind
is the proper seat of religion; and however right our actions may




%52           OWEN ON SPIRITUAL MINDEDNESS.
be in the matter of them, thev are of no account in Christianity,
unless they have proceeded from a central and spontaneous impulse which originates there. They may be moulded into a visible
propriety by an influence from without, or have arisen from
secondary motives, which are of no account whatever in the estimation of the upper sanctuary; and hence it is a possible thing
that we may delude ourselves into a treacherous complacency,
because of the many deeds of integrity, and courteousness, and
beneficence in which we abound. Still, however, it will speedily
be found, that in the midst of all our amiable and constitutional
virtues, there are the outbreakings of evil upon our conduct, and
such as nothing but a spiritual principle can effectually restrain.
In taking cognizance of these, then, which we do in the first stage
of self-examination, we are brought to feel the need of something
higher than any of those powers or properties wherewith nature
has endowed us-we are taught the nakedness of our moral condition-we are convinced of sin, and thrown upon those resources
out of which pardon is administered, and help is made to descend
upon us. We are not therefore to underrate the examination of
our doings, or think that when thus employed, we are only wasting our thoughts on the bare and barren literalities of that bodily
exercise which profiteth little. Even on this lower walk we shall
meet with many deficiencies and many deviations: and be often
rebuked into a sense of our own worthlessness; and shall have to
lament, in the many offences of the outer man, how dependent we
are both on a sanctifying grace and an atoning sacrifice. Or, in
other words, by a regular habit of self-examination, even in the
rudest and most elementary branch of it, may we be schooled into
the doctrines of sin and of the Saviour, and from what is most
observable in the outer path, may gather such intimations of what
we are, and of what we need, as will conduct us to the very essence of vital Christianity.
Now, after this, there is what we would call the second stage
in the work of self-examination. Our reason for advising a Christian to begin first with a survey of the handy-work, ere he proceeds to a search and scrutiny of the heart, is, that the one is
greatly more manifest than the other. Now it is said in Scripture,
"that the works of the flesh are manifest;" and what we would
have him to remark is, that, in the enumeration of these works,
the apostle takes account of wrong affections as well as of wrong
actions. Wrath, for example, and hatred, and envy-these, in
the estimation of the apostles, are alike manifest with drunkenness, and open quarrelling, and murder. It would appear that
there are certain strong and urgent feelings of the inner man,
which may be as distinctly taken cognizance of, as certain glaring
and palpable misdeeds of the outward history. And therefore,
while, for the first stage of self-examination, we proposed, as the
topics of it, the doings of the visible conduct, we would suggest,




OWEN ON SPIRITUAL MINDEDNESS.             253
for the second stage, the evil desires of the heart, which, whether
they break forth or not into open effervescence, at least announce,
and that most vividly, their existence and their power, to the eye,
or rather to the sense of conscience, simply by the felt emotion
which they stir up within, by the fierceness wherewith they rage
and tumultuate among the secrecies of the bosom.
It is certainly worth adverting to, that while it is said of the
works of the flesh, that they are manifest, the same is not said of
the fruits of the spirit. And this, we are persuaded, will meet
the experience even of the most spiritual and advanced Christian.
Is there any such, who can say of his love to God, that it is a far
more intense and sensible affection within him, than the anger
which he often feels at the provocations of insult or dishonesty?
Or will he say, that his joy in spiritual things has in it the power
of a more noticeable sensation, than his joy in the fame or good
fortune of this world? Or is the gentleness of his renewed heart
a thing that can so readily meet the eye of observation, as the occasional violence, or even as those slighter touches of resentful
and uncharitable feeling wherewith he at times is visited? Has
he not often to complain, that in searching for the evidences of a
work of grace, they are scarcely, if at all, discernible; whereas,
nothing is more manifest than the constant risings of a sinful affection, and that weight of a carnal and corrupt nature, wherewith
the inner man is well nigh overborne? Is it not distinctly his experience, that while the works of his flesh are most abundantly
manifest, the fruits of the Spirit are of such slender or questionable growth, as well nigh to escape his observation? And does
not this furnish a ground for the distinction, that whereas the former might well constitute the topics for the second stage of selfexamination, the latter has their more befitting place as a higher
and more advanced stage of it.
And here will we make another appeal to the experience of a
Christian. Does he not feel of his evil affections, that not only are
they more manifest to his own conscience, than his gracious and
good ones; but is it not further true, that they are more manifest
even now than they were formerly-that he has a more distinct
feeling both of their existence and their malignity at this moment,
than he had years ago-that he is greatly more burdened with a
sense of their besetting urgency, and is hence apt to infer, that of
themselves, they are surely more aggravated in their character —
and that he is getting worse, perhaps, instead of advancing, as he
heartily and honestly wishes to do, in the course of his sanctification?  The inference is not a sound one; for both to the eye of
the world, and to the eye of witnesses in heaven, he is growing
both in humility and in holiness. But if his growth in humility
should outstrip his growth in holiness, then to his own eye may
there be a fuller and more affecting manifestation of his worthlessness than before. While the sin of his nature is upon the




254           OWEN ON SPIRITUAL MINDEDNESS.
decay, there may, at the very time, be a progress in his sensibility
to the evil of it. Just in proportion to the force of his resistance
against the carnality of the old man, does he come more pressingly into contact with all its affections and its tendencies; and
so, these being more deeply felt, are also more distinctly recognized by him. It was thus with Paul, when he found the law in
his members, that warred against the law of his mind; and when
he complained of his vile body; and when he affirmed of the
struggle between the opposite principles of his now compound
nature, that it not only harassed, but hindered him from doing the
things which he would. He did not grow in corruption, but he
grew in a more touching impression, and a clearer insight of it;
and so of the Christian still, that more in heaviness though he be,
under the felt and conscious movements of an accursed nature,
which is not yet extinct, though under a sure and effectual process of decay, it is not because he is declining in religious growth,
but because he is advancing in religious tenderness; striking his
roots more profoundly into the depths of self-abasement, and
therefore upwardly shooting more aloft than ever, among the
heights of angelic sacredness.
We say this, partly for comfort, and to remind the Christian
that it is good for him, in every stage of his career, to keep himself weaned from his own righteousness, and wedded to the righteousness of Christ. But he will also perceive how it is, that just
as he grows in positive excellence, so does he become more feelingly alive, and more intelligently wakeful to the soil and the sinfulness wherewith it is still tarnished; and thus will every new
accession to his Christianity facilitate the work which we have
prescribed for him, on the second stage of self-examination.
It is thus, then, that we would introduce him to the business of
making search and entry into the recesses of the inner man. Let
him begin with the evil affections of his nature, for these are at
first far more more discernible than the others; and even though
under the power of grace they are withering into decay, still from
the growth of his moral and spiritual delicacy, may they remain
more discernible to the very end of his history in the world.
They are therefore more easily recognized, than are the features
of the new character, and should, of consequence, have an earlier
place in the course of self-examination, that important branch of
Christian scholarship. As the habit of reviewing the handy-work,
prepared him for entering on the review of the heart, so the habit
of reading those more palpable lineaments which are graven
thereupon, may prepare him for scrutinizing that more hidden
workmanship, which under the processes of the economy of grace,
is carried forward in the soul of every believer. And agreeably
to this, we would have him to take account, on each successive
evening, of every uncharitable feeling that hath arisen through
the day, of every angry emotion wherewith he has been visited,




OWEN ON SPIRITUAL MINDEDNESS.              255
of every impure thought that he either loved to cherish, or did
not rebuke with a prompt and sensitive alarm away from him,
of every brooding anxiety that seemed to mark how much the
crosses of time preponderate with him over the cares and concerns of eternity-withal, of that constant and cleaving ungodliness which compasses us about with all the tenacity and fulness of a natural element, and makes it so plain to the enlightened conscience, that though the heart were exempted from all
the agitations of malice or licentiousness, yet still that Atheism,
practical Atheism, is its kindly and congenial atmosphere. In
taking such a nightly retrospect as this, how often may he be reminded of his preference for self in the negotiations of merchandise —of the little temptations to deceit, to which he had given a
somewhat agreeable entertainment-of the dominant love of this
world's treasure, and how it tends to overbear his appetite for the
meat that endureth, his earnestness for being rich towards God!These, and many like propensities as these, will obtrude themselves
as the mementoes of nature's remaining frailty; they will be to
him the indications of a work that is still to be done, the materials
for his repentance every night,the motives and the impulsesifor
his renewedvigilance.on the morrow.
We now enter on the third and last stage of self-examination,
at which it is that we take cognizance of a past work of grace
that is going on in the soul; and read the lineaments of our new
nature; and from the fruits of the Spirit having now become distinct and discernible within us, can assuredly infer, that now we
are possessed of the earnest of our inheritance, and have the witness within ourselves, that we are indeed the children of God.
And we think, that the humbler exercises which we have now insisted on, may prepare the way for this more subtle and recondite
part of the work of self-examination. Certain it is, that it might
subserve the object of bringing the Spirit of God into closer and
more effectual fellowship with the soul. Only, let the notice which
one takes of his evil affections, be the signal to him for entering,
and that immediately, into a war of resistance, if not of extermination, against them. Having learned the strength and number of
his enemies, let him forthwith be more determined in his guardianship; and, in proportion as he succeeds, in that very proportion
does he invite the approach of the Spirit of all grace, and will
have the benefit of his power and workmanship upon the soul.
"Grieve not the Spirit," says the apostle, and quench not his influences. Just as the disciple mortifies the pride, or the peevish.
ness, or any of those evil propensities which are the works of the
flesh, does he take away those topics of offence and discouragement which keep the Holy Ghost at a distance-does he remove
the obstacles that lie in the way of his operation-does he begin,
in fact, that good work which the Spirit will carry on-does he
cease to do evil, and learn from the Spirit, and is enabled by the




256           OWEN ON SPIRITUAL MINDEDNESS.
Spirit, to do well. Thus it is, that he is made to advance from
one degree of grace to another; and, instead of mystically waiting
for an illumination and a power which he has no reason to believe
will ever come upon him, idly looking forward to it in the shape
of a sudden and auspicious visitation, let him enter, even now, on
that course of new obedience, along which a disciple is conducted
from the first elements of his spiritual education, to those brightest accomplishments which a saint on earth has ever realized.
There is one very immediate result that comes out even of this
earlier part in the work of self-examination.  If one be led, from
the discovery of what is evil, to combat it, then is he led to be
diligent, that he may be found without spot, and blameless in the
great day of reckoning. He is working out his salvation firom sin.
He embarks on the toils of the Christian warfare. He fights the
good fight, and forthwith makes a busy work a strenuous conflict
of his sanctification. And he should not linger another day, ere
he commence in good earnest this purification for eternity. He
should remember that the terms which the Bible employs, are all
expressive of rapidity:-To.flee from the coming wrath; and flee
from those evil affections which war against the soul; and make
haste to keep the commandments; and tarry not in turning to
Christ, and turning from all his iniquities.
There is nothing of which the earnest and aspiring disciple is
more ready to complain, than that, while all alive to the sense of
his corruptions, he is scarcely sensible of the work of grace that
should be going on. The motions of the flesh are most distinct
and most discernible, while, on the question of the Spirit's operation upon his heart, he is in a state of utter blindnes and bewilderment. He feels weighed down by the remaining carnality of his
nature, while he feels not within him any growing positive conformity to the character of one of heaven's children. There is a
more galling sensation than before of all about him that is evil,
but often without anything to alleviate the oppressive thought, by
the consciousness of much that is truly and unequivocally good.
And thus a discomfort in the mind of many an incipient Christian
-an apprehension that he has not yet tasted of the Spirit of God,
nor has any part in that which is called the seal of his redemption,
the earnest of his inheritance.
Now it may comfort him to know, that this very dejection of
his heart may, of itself, be a fruit and an evidence of the Holy
Ghost having been at work with him. This painful sensibility to
what is wrong, may evince him to be now at the place of breaking forth, now at the very turning point of his regeneration. The
very heaviness under which he labors, is perhaps as decisive a
symptom as can be given, that he is now bending his upward
way along the career of an arduous, but still advancing sanctification.  When the Psalmist complained of himself that his heart
clave mnato the dust, and therefore prayed that God would quicken




OWEN ON SPIRITUAL MINDEDNESS.              257
him, he perhaps did not know that the quickening process had
begun with him already, and that even now he was actuated by
the spirit of grace and of supplication-that ere the lineaments of
an affirmative excellence could come visibly forth upon his character, it was for him to supplicate the new heart and the right
spirit, because for all these things God must be inquired after, and
that he now had come the length of this inquiry —that so far from
this despondency being a proof of the destitution of the Spirit, one
of the first fruits of the Spirit, in the apostle and his converts, was
that they groaned inwardly, being burdened, being now touched
as they never were before with a feeling of their infirmities. To
the now renovated eye, the soil that is upon the character is more
painfully offensive than before; and to the now softened heart,
there is the grief of a moral tenderness because of sin, that was
before unfelt, but now is nearly overwhelming.  The dead know
not that they are dead, and not till the first moments of their returning life, can they be appalled by the feeling of the death-like
paralysis that is upon them. And let us not then refuse that, even
under the burden of a heavy-laden consciousness, the reviving
Spirit may be there-that like as with the chaos of matter, when
he moved upon the face of the waters he troubled and bedimmed
them, so his first footsteps on the face of the moral chaos may
thicken that turbulence which he is at length to harmnonize —that
the sense of darkness which now oppresses the soul, is in fact the
first gleaming of that light by which the darkness is made visible
-and the horror by which it is seized upon, when made to feel
itself in a sepulchre of corruption, is its first awakening from the
death of trespasses and sins, the incipient step of its spiritual resurrection.
But, while we allege this as a word in season to the weary, yet
should we like a higher class of evidences, than this for the workmanship of God upon our souls-we desire a substantive proof
of our regeneration, a legible impress of some one feature that
only belongs to the new man in Christ Jesus, and might be an encouraging token to ourselves, that on the groundwork of our old
nature the true spiritual portrait is begun, and is now actually in
progress towards that last finish, by which it is prepared for a
place among the courts or palaces of the upper sanctuary. It is
at this point in the series of our self-examinations, that we are met
with its most formidable difficulties. It is easy to take account of
the visible doings. It is easy to take account also of the evil or
corrupt affections. But to find a positive encouragement in the
sense that we have of the now gracious affections of a renovated
heart-to descry in embryo the rudiments of a moral excellence
that is yet unformed —to catch the lineaments of that heavenly
image, which is but faintly noticeable under that aspect of vigor
and entireness which still belongs to the old and the ordinary man
-this is found by many an anxious inquirer to be indeed a baffling
33




'258          OWEN ON SPIRITUAL MINDEDNESS.
enterprise; and though he believe in Christ, he has been known
to wander in darkness, and even in distress, because short in all
his weary endeavors after the full assurance of hope unto the end.
Now, ere we suggest anything for the guidance of his inquiries, let us remind him of the difference which there is between
the assurance of hope and the assurance of faith. The one is a
certainty, founded on the observation that he has taken of himself
-and because he perceives, from the real work of grace which
has been performed on him. that he is indeed one of the children
of God. The other is a certainty, founded on the cognizance that
he has taken of God's promises-and because he perceives, both
from their perfect honesty, and from the ample unrestricted scope
of their address to all and to every of our species, that he may
venture a full reliance for himself on the propitiation that has been
made for the world, on the righteousness that is unto all and upon
all who believe. Now the assurance of a hope is far, and may
be very far posterior to the assurance of faith. One cannot too
soon or too firmly put his confidence in the word of God. The
truth of his sayings is a matter altogether distinct from the truth
of our own sanctification. Even now, upon the warrant of God's
testimony, may the sinner come into acceptance, and take up his
resting-place under the canopy of Christ's mediatorship, and rejoice in this, that the blood which he has shed cleanseth from all
sin; and, with a full appropriation of this universal specific to his
own guilt, may he stand with a free and disburdened conscience
before the God whom he has offended. He may do all this even
now, and still it is but the assurance of faith, the confidence of one
who is looking outwardly on the truth and the meaning of God's
declarations. The assurance of hope is the confidence that one
feels in looking inwardly to the graces of his own character, and
should only grow with his spiritual growth, and strengthen with
his spiritual strength. But we may be certain of this, that the
best way by which we attain to the latter assurance, is to cherish
the former assurance even to the uttermost. Let us send forth
our believing regards on the Sun of Righteousness, and thus shall
we admit into our bosom both a heat that will kindle its gracious
affections, and a light that will make them manifest. In other
words, let us be ever employed in the work of faith, and this will
not only shed a brightness over the tablet of the inner man, but
it is the direct method by which to crowd and to enrich it with
the best materials for the work of self-examination.
Let us now, then, specify a few of these materials, some of the
fruits of that Spirit which is given to those who believe, and on
the production and growth of which within them, they may attain
the comfortable assurance in themselves, that they are indeed the
workmanship and the husbandry of God. Some, perhaps, may
be led to recognize their own likeness in one or other of the features that we delineate, and so to rejoice. Others may be left in




OWEN ON SPIRITUAL MINDEDNESS.            259
uncertainty, or even be made certain that, as yet, they have no
part nor lot in the matter of personal Christianity. But whatever
their conclusions may be, we would commit all of them alike back
again to the exercise of that faith, out of which alone it is that the
spiritual life can be made to germinate, or that it can at all be
upheld.
The experience of one man varies exceedingly from that of
another; but we would say, in the first place, that one very general mark of the Spirit's work upon the soul. is the new taste and
the new intelligence wherewith a man now looks upon the Bible
Let that which before was dark and mystical now appear light
unto him-let a power and a preciousness be felt in its clauses,
which he wont altogether to miss in his old mechanical style of
perusing it-let there be a sense and a weight of significancy in
those passages which at one time escaped his discernment-let
there now be a conscious adaptation between its truths and the
desires or the necessities of his own heart —and, above all, let
there be a willing consent and coalescence with such doctrines as
before revolted him into antipathy, or at least were regarded with
listless unconcern-in particular, let there be a responding testimony from within to all which that book affirms of the sin of our
nature-and, instead of the Saviour being lightly esteemed, let his
name and his righteousness have all the power of a restorative
upon the soul. Should these things meet in the experience of any
one, then it needs not that there should either be a voice or a
vision to convince us, that upon him the Holy Spirit of God has
had its sure, though its silent operation —that he has been plying
him with his own instrument, which is the word of God-that it
is he, and not nature, who has evolved from the pages of Scripture this new light on the mind of the inquirer —that, apart altogether from the visitation of a trance, or a glory, or the inspiration of a whisper at midnight, there has been a wisdom from
above, which, through the medium of the written testimony, has
addressed itself to the man's understanding; and the perception
which he now has of the things of faith, is not the fruit of his own
spontaneous and unaided faculties-that the things which he has
gotten from Scripture, he in fact has gotten from the Spirit, who
holds no other communication with the human mind than through
the avenues of God's unalterable record,-they may be the very
things which the natural man cannot receive, and neither can he
know them, because they are spiritually discerned.
But, while we hope that this may fall on some with an impression of comfort, it is right that it should be accompanied with a
caution. Though true that there may be a desire for the sincere milk of the word, which evinces one to be a new-born babe;
yet it is alse true, that one may have tasted of the good word of
God, and finally apostatize. And lest any who have been so far
enlightened by the Holy Ghost should be of this hopeless and ill



260            OWEN ON SPIRITUAL MINDEDNESS.
fated class, let us warn them to take heed lest they fall-lest they
fall more particularly from the evidence on which we have now
been expatiating-lest they lose their relish, and so give up their
reading of the Bible-lest the first love wherewith they at one
time regarded it should again be dissipated, and that spiritual appetite which they felt for the essential simplicities of the Gospel,
should at length decline into a liking for heartless controversy or
for barren speculation. Let such strive, by prayer and by a constant habit of perusal, to retain, yea, to augment their interest in
the Bible. Let them be assured, that a kindredness in their heart
with its flavor and its phraseology, is a kindredness with heaven
-nor do we know a better evidence of preparation for the sanctuary, than when the very truths and very words of the sanctuary
are precious.
But again, another fruit of the Spirit, another sign, as it were,
of his workmanship upon the soul, is that we love the brethren,
or, in other words, that we feel a savor which perhaps we had
not formerly in the converse, and society, and whole tone and
habit of spiritual men. The advantage of this test is, that it is so
very palpable-that with all the obscurity which rests on the
other evidences, this may remain a most distinct and discernible
one, and be often the solitary vestige, as it were, of our translation
into a new moral existence, when some dark cloud hath overshadowed all the other lineaments of that epistle which the Spirit
hath graven upon our hearts.  "Hereby know we," says the
apostle, "that we have passed from death unto life, even that we
love the brethren." One may remember when he had no such
love-when he nauseated the very air and aspect of sacrednesswhen the world was his kindred atmosphere, and worldly men
the only companionship in which he could breathe with native
comfort or satisfaction-when the very look and language of the
peculiar people were an offence to him, and he gladly escaped
from a clime so ungenial with his spirits, to the glee of earthly
fellowship, to the bustle of earthly employments. Was it so with
him at one time, and is it different now? Has he a taste for association with the pious? Does he relish the unction that is upon
their feelings, and has he now a tact of congeniality with that
certain breath and spirit of holiness, the sensation of which, at
one time, disgusted him? Then verily we have good hopes of a
good, and, we trust a decisive transformation-that this taste for
converse with the saints on earth, is a foretaste to his full enjoyment of their converse in heaven-that there is a gradual attemperment going on of his character here to the condition which
awaits him there-that he has really been translated from the
kingdom of this world to the kingdom of light-and if it be true,
that to consummate our preparation for hell, we must not only do
those things which are worthy of death, but have pleasure in
those that do them, we cannot understand why a growing affec



OWEN ON SPIRITUAL MINDEDNESS.            261
tion on his part for the servants of God should not be sustained,
as the comfortable token that he is indeed under a process of
ripening for the delights and the services of the upper sanctuary.
But there is room here too for a caution. There may be a
sentimental homage rendered even by a mere child of nature to
Christianity. There may be a taste for certain aspects of sacredness, without any kindred delight in sacredness itself. There
may be a predilection of the fancy for some of the Spirit's graces,
which yet may augur no more one's own vital participation in
that Spirit, than would his relish for the simplicity of Quaker
attire, or his admiration of that Moravian village, where his eye
rested on so many peaceful tenements, and his ear was ravished
at intervals with the voice of melting psalmody. And more recently, there is the excitement of all that modern philanthropy
which requires combination, and eloquence, and adventure, and
busy management; and thus an enjoyment in religious societies,
without enjoyment in religion. There may go on animating bustle
in the outer courts, to interest and engage the man who had no
sympathy whatever with those chosen few that now were ad.mitted among the glories of the inner temple. And, therefore,
let us try if, apart from the impulse of all these externals, we indeed breathe in a kindred atmosphere, when we sit down in close
and intimate fellowship with a man of prayer-if we can listen
with eager and heart-felt satisfaction to the experience of an humble Christian-if, when sitting by the bed of the dying believer, we
can sympathize with the hope that beams in his eye, and the peace
that flows through his heart like a mighty river-or if, when the
Bible is upon his lips, and he tries to quote those simple sayings
by which the departing spirit is sustained, we can read and rejoice
along with him.
But, without attempting anything like a full enumeration of the
Spirit's fruits. we shall advert to the one that perhaps of all others
is most indispensable-a growing tenderness because of sin-a
quicker moral alarm at its most distant approaches, at its slightest
violations of purity or rectitude-a susceptibility of conscience,
which exposes one to distress from what was before unheeded,
and left no infliction of remorse behind it-an utter loathing at
that which was, perhaps, at one time liked or laughed at, even
the song, and the oath, and the gross indelicacy of profane or
licentious companionship-a sensitive and high-minded recoil from
the lyving artifices of trade-and withal, the pain of a violated
principle at those Sabbath desecrations in which we wont to rejoice. This growing hostility to sin, and growing taste of its bitterness, are truly satisfying evidences of the Spirit's operation;
and more particularly, when they stand associated with a just estimation of the Gospel. Did the candidate for heaven still think
that heaven was won by obedience, then we might conceive him
urged on to the warfare of all his energies against the power of




262            OWEN ON SPIRITUAL MINDEDNESS.
moral evil, by the terrors of the law. But, thinking as he does,
that heaven is a gift, and not a recompense, it delivers, from all
taint of mercenary legalism, both his love of what is good, and his
hatred of what is evil. It stamps a far purer and more generous
character on his resistance to sin. It likens his abhorrence of it
more to the kindred feature in the character of God, who cannot
do that which is wrong, not because he feareth punishment, but
because he hateth iniquity.  To hate the thing for which vengeance would pursue us, is not so disinterested as to hate the thing
of which forgiveness hath been offered; and so, if two men were
exhibited to notice, one of them under the economy of works, and
the other under the economy of grace, and both equally assiduous
in the conflict with sin, we should say of the latter, that he gave
far more satisfying proof than the former, of a pure and God-like
antipathy to evil; and that he, of the two, was more clearly the
subject of that regenerating process under-which man is renewed,
after the image of his Creator, in righteousness and in true holiness.
We might have given a larger exemplification of the Spirit's
fruits, and of those topics of self-examination, by which the Christian might rightly estimate the true state of his spiritual character;
but instead of multiplying our illustrations, would we refer our
readers to the following profound and searching Treatise of Dt.
OWEN, " ON THE GRACE AND DUTY OF BEING SPIRITUALLY MINDED.'
Dr. Owen's is indeed a venerated name, which stands in the first
rank of those noble worthies who adorned a former period of our
country and of our church. He was a star of the first magnitude
in that bright constellation of luminaries, who shed a light and a
glory over the age in which they lived; and whose genius, and
whose writings, continue to shed their radiance over succeeding
generations. The following Treatise of Dr. Owen holds a distinguished rank among the voluminous writings of this celebrated
author; and it is characterized by a forcible application of truth
to the conscience —by a depth of experimental feeling —an accuracy of spiritual discernment into the intimacies and operations
of the human mind-and a skill in exploring the secrecies of the
heart, and the varieties of affection, and the ever-shifting phases
of character,-which render this admirable Treatise not less a
test, than a valuable guide to the honest inquirer, in his scrutiny
into the real state of his heart and affections.  Amidst the difficulties and perplexities which beset the path of the sincere inquirer, in the work of self-examination, he will be greatly aided
in this important search by the attentive and serious perusal of
this Treatise.  In it he will find, in minute delineation, the varied
tastes and emotions, of affection and of feeling, which belong to
either class of the carnal or spiritually minded; an(l in the faithful
mirror which it holds up to the view, he cannot fail to discern,
most vividly reflected, the true portraiture of his own character.




OWEN ON SPIRITUAL MINDEDNESS.            263
But it is not merely as a test of character, that the value of this
precious Treatise is to be estimated. By his powerful expositions
of the deceitfulness of the human heart, he endeavors to disturb
that delusive repose into which men are betrayed in regard to futurity, under the guise of a regular outward observance of the duties of religion, and a fair external conformity to the decencies of
life, while the principle of ungodliness pervades the whole heart
and affections. And here his faithful monitions may be profitable
to those who, insensible to the spirituality and extent of the divine
law, are also insensible of their fearful deficiency from its lofty
requirements-who have never been visited with a conviction
that the principle of love to God, which has its seat in the affections of the heart, is an essential and indispensable requisite to all
acceptable obedience-and that, destitute of a relish and delight
in spiritual things, and with a heart that nauseates the sacredness
of holy and retired communings with God, whatever be their external decencies, or outward conformities to the divine law, they
still are exposed to the charge and the doom of being carnally
minded.
But this Treatise contains a no less important delineation of the
state of heart, in those who have become the humble and earnest
aspirants after heaven, and are honestly cultivating those affections of the renewed heart, and those graces of the Christian
character, which form the indispensable preparation' for the delights and the employments of the upper sanctuary. He marks
with graphic accuracy the tastes and the tendencies of the new
creature; and most instructive to the Christian disciple is it to
learn, from one so experimentally acquainted with the hidden operations of the inner man, what are the characteristic graces of
the Spirit, and resemblances of the divine nature, that are engraven on his soul. by which, amidst all the short-comings and infirmities of his nature, not yet fully delivered from the bondage of
corruption, he may, nevertheless. have the comfort and the evidence that he is spiritually minded.
And one principal excellence of this useful Treatise is, to guard
the believer against the insidiousness and power of those spiritual
enemies with which he has to contend-with the deceitfulness of
the heart, the natural and unresisted current of whose imaginations is only vanity and evil continually-with the ensnaring and
besetting urgencies of worldly things, into whose presence his
duties and avocations will unavoidably introduce him —with the
ever busy temptations of the adversary of souls, to retain or to recover the spirit which is striving to enter in at the strait gate.
And, sheathed in the Christian panoply, he reminds him of the
struggle he must hold, of the watchfulness he must exercise, and
of the constant and persevering warfare he must maintain with
them in his earthly journey, ere he can reach the Jerusalem above.
In these spiritual tactics, Dr. Owen was most profoundly skilled;




264            OWEN ON SPIRITUAL MINDEDNESS.
and it is profitable to be instructed in the guardianship of the
heart against its own treacheries, and against those evil influences
which war against the soul-which hinder the outset, or are adverse to the growth, of the spiritual life-and which so often grieve
the Spirit, and lead him to withdraw his gracious operations, so
indispensable for giving the truth a sanctifying influence over his
mind. And no less important is it to be instructed in the means
for the successful cultivation of the Christian life; and, by an entire renunciation of self-righteousness, and even of dependence on
grace already received-by casting himself, in the confidence of
faith and of prayer, on Him who is all his strength and all his sufficiency —by being strong in the grace of the Lord Jesus-and by
abounding in the exercises of faith and of love, of watchfulness
and of prayer, of obedience and of dependence on the Spirit of
truth, to maintain an evergrowing conformity to the divine image,
and to press onwards in his earnest aspirings to reach those higher
altitudes in the divine life, which will fit him for a high place
among the companies of the celestial.
On the means for the attainment of these higher graces of the
spiritual life we might have expatiated; but we must close our
remarks, without almost one glance on the heights of Christian
experience; or those loftier attainments after which we are ever
doomed to aspire, but with hardly ever the satisfaction, in this
world, of having realized them; or those high and heavenly communions, which fall to the lot of men of such a sublime sacredness
as Dr. Owen; but for which it would almost appear indispensable,
that the spiritual life should be nourished in solitude, and that. afar
from the din. and the broil, and the tumult of ordinary life, the candidate for heaven should give himself up to the discipline of prayer
and of constant watchfulness. It is, indeed, most humbling to
reflect on the paltry ascent that we have yet made along that hidden walk, by which it is that the pilgrim travels towards Zion;
and how short we are, after years of something like earnestness,
from those untouched and untrodden eminences which are so far
above us. Where, may most of us ask, is our delight in God?
Where is the triumph of our serene confidence in him, over all the
anxieties of this world? Where that love to Christ, and that rejoicing in him, which, in the days of primitive Christianity, were
so oft exemplified by the believer, and formed, in truth, the hourly
and familiar habits of his soul? Do we count it enough, in the
absence of this world's smiles, and when the whole sunshine of
them is withdrawn from the bosom, that we still live amid the
bright anticipations of Faith, with the protection of heaven above
us, and the full radiance of eternity before us? These are the
achievements to which we must yet press onward; and perhaps
the sensation of a pressure that has yet been ineffectual, is the only
evidence, in regard to them, which we can allege of a gracious
tendency at least, if not of a gracious acquirement. It is the




OWEN ON SPIRITUAL MINDEDNESS.           265
proof, not of what we have reached, but of the direction in which
we are moving. And, at the very time that we are burdened under a feeling of our deficiencies, may we, from our constant inclination to surmount them, and our many unsatisfied longings after
the standard that is higher than ourselves, gather some perhaps
of our most precious and legitimate encouragements in the work
of self-examination.
34




INTRODUCTORY ESSAY
TO
CALL TO THE UNCONVERTED;
NOW  OR NEVER; AND FIFTY REASONS.
BY RICHARD BAXTER.
HAVING already introduced to the notice of our readers one of
RICHARD BAXTER'S most valuable Treatises,* in the Essay to
which we adverted to the character and writings of this venerable author, we count it unnecessary at present to make any allusion to them, but shall confine our remarks to the subject of the
three Treatises which compose the present volume, namely, " A
CALL TO THE UNCONVERTED TO TURN AND LIVE;" "NOW  OR
NEVER;" and " FIFTY REASONS WHY A SINNER OUGHT TO TURN
TO GOD TIIIS DAY WIATHOUT DELAY."
These Treatises are characterized by all that solemn earnestness, and urgency of appeal, for which the writings of this much
admired author are so peculiarly distinguished. He seems to
look upon mankind solely with the eyes of the Spirit, and exclusivelv to recognize them in their spiritual relations, and in the
great and essential elements of their immortal being.  Their
future destiny is the all-important concern which fills and engrosses his mind, and he regards nothing of any magnitude but
what has a distinct bearing on their spiritual and eternal condition.
His business, therefore, is always with the conscience, to which, in
these Treatises, he makes the most forcible appeals, and which he
plies with all those arguments which are fitted to awaken the
sinner to a deep sense of the necessity and importance of immediate repentance. In his " Call to the Unconverted," he endeavors to move them by the most touching of all representations, the
tenderness of a beseeching God waiting to be gracious, and not
willing that any should perish; and while he employs every
form of entreaty, which tenderness and compassion can suggest,
to allure the sinner to "turn and live," he does not shrink from
* The Saints' Everlasting Rest, with an Essay by Mr. Erskine.




CALL TO THE UNCONVERTED.                267
forcing on his convictions those considerations which are fitted to
alarm his fears. the terrors of' the Lord, and the wrath, not merely
of an offended Lawgiver, but of a God of love, whose threatenings he disregards, whose grace he despises, and whose mercy he
rejects. And aware of the deceitfulness of sin in hardening the
heart, and betraying the sinner into a neglect of his spiritual interests, he divests him of every refuge, and strips him of every
plea for postponing his preparation for eternity. He forcibly exposes the delusion of convenient seasons, and the awful infatuation and hazard of delay; and knowing the magnitude of the
stake at issue, he urges the sinner to immediate repentance, as if
the fearful and almost absolute alternative were " Now or Never."
And to secure the commencement of such an important work
against all the dangers to which procrastination might expose it,
he endeavors to arrest the sinner in his career of guilt and unconcern, and resolutely to fix his determination on " turning to God
this day without delay."
There are two very prevalent delusions on this subject, which
we should like to expose; the one regards the nature, and the
other the season of repentance; both of which are pregnant with
mischief to the minds of men. With regard to the first, much
mischief has arisen from mistakes respecting the meaning of the
term repentance.  The word repentance occurs with two different meanings in the New Testament; and it is to be regretted,
that two different words could not have been devised to express
these.  This is chargeable upon the poverty of our language; for
it is to be observed, that in the original Greek the distinction in
the meanings is pointed out by a distinction in the words. The
employment of one term to denote two different things has the
effect of confounding and misleading the understanding; and it is
much to be wished, that every ambiguity of this kind were cleared
away from that most interesting point in the process of a human
soul, at which it turns from sin unto righteousness, and from the
power of Satan unto God.
When, in common language, a man says, "I repent of such an
action," he is understood to say, " I am sorry for having done it."
The feeling is familiar to all of us. How often does the man of
dissipation prove this sense of the word repentance, when he
awakes in the morning, and, oppressed by the languor of his exhausted faculties, looks back with remorse on the follies and profligacies of the night that is past?  How often does the man of
unguarded conversation prove it, when he thinks of the friend
whose feelings he has wounded by some hasty utterance which he
cannot recall?  How often is it proved by the man of business,
when he reflects on the rash engagement which ties him down to
a losing speculation? All these people would be perfectly understood when they say, "We repent of these doings."  The word
repentance so applied is about equivalent to the word regret.




268             CALL TO THE UNCONVERTED.
There are several passages in the New Testament where this
is the undoubted sense of the word repentance. In Matt. xxvii.
3, the wretched Judas repented himself of his treachery; and
surely, when we think of the awful denunciation uttered by our
Saviour against the man who should betray him, that it were
better for him if he had not been born, we will never confound
the repentance which Judas experienced with that repentance
which is unto salvation.
Now here lies the danger to practical Christianity. In the
above-cited passage, to repent is just to regret, or to be sorry for;
and this we conceive to be by far the most prevailing sense of the
term in the English language. But there are other places where
the same term is employed to denote that which is urged upon
us as a duty-that which is preached for the remission of sinsthat which is so indispensable to sinners, as to call forth the declaration from our Saviour, that unless we have its we shall all
likewise perish. Now, though repentance, in all these cases, is
expressed by the same term in our translation as the repentance
of mere regret. it is expressed by a different term in the original
record of our faith. This surely might lead us to suspect a difference of meaning, and should caution us against taking up with
that, as sufficient for the business of our salvation, which is short
of saving and scriptural repentance. There may be an alternation
of wilful sin, and of deeply-felt sorrow, up to the very end of our
history-there may be a presumptuous sin committed every day,
and a sorrow regularly succeeding it. Sorrow may imbitter
every act of sin —sorrow may darken every interval of sinful
indulgence-and sorrow may give an unutterable anguish to the
pains and the prospects of a death-bed. Couple all this with the
circumstance that sorrow passes, in the common currency of our
language, for repentance, and that repentance is made, by our
Bible, to lie at the turning point from a state of condemnation to a
state of acceptance with God, and it is difficult not to conceive
that much danger may have arisen from this, leading to indistinct
views of the nature of repentance, and to slender and superficial
conceptions of the mighty change which is implied in it.
We are far from saying that the eye of Christians is not open
to this danger-and that the vigilant care of Christian authors has
not been employed in averting it. Where will we get a better
definition of repentance unto life than in our Shorter Catechism?
by which the sinner is represented not merely as grieving, but,
along with his grief and hatred of sin, as turning from it unto
God with full purpose, and endeavor after new obedience. But
the mischief is, that the word repent has a common meaning different from the theological; that wherever it is used, this common meaning is apt to intrude itself, and exert a kind of habitual
imposition upon the understanding; that the influence of the single word carries it over the influence of the lengthened explana



CALL TO THE UNCONVERTED.               269
tion and thus it is that, for a steady progress in the obedience
of the Gospel, many persevere, to the end of their days, in a
wretched course of sinning and of sorrowing, without fruit and
without amendment.
To save the practically mischievous effect arising from the application of one term to two different things, one distinct and appropriate term has been suggested for the saving repentance of the
New Testament. The term repentance itself has been restricted
to the repentance of mere sorrow, and is made equivalent to regret; and, for the other, able translators have adopted the word
retbrmation. The one is expressive of sorrow for our past conduct; the other is expressive of our renouncing it. It denotes an
actual turning from the habits of life that we are sorry for. Give
us, say they, a change from bad deeds to good deeds, from bad
habits to good habits, from a life of wickedness to a life of conformity to the requirements of heaven, and you give us reformation.
Now there is often nothing more unprofitable than a dispute
about words: but if a word has got into common use, a common
and generally understood meaning is attached to it; and if this
meaning does not just come up to the thing which we want to
express by it, the application of that word to that thing has the
same misleading effects as in the case already alluded to. Now,
we have much the same kind of exception to allege against the
term reformation, that we have alleged against the term repentance. The term repentance is inadequate-and why? because,
in the common use of it, it is equivalent to regret, and regret is
short of the saving change that is spoken of in the New Testament. On the very same principle, we count the term reformation to be inadequate. We think that, in common language, a
man would receive the appellation of a reformed man upon the
mere change of his outward habits. without any reference to the
change of mind and of principle which gave rise to it. Let the
drunkard give up his excesses-let the backbiter give up his evil
speakings-let the extortioner give up his unfair charges-and we
would apply to one and to all of them, upon the mere change of
their external doings, the character of reformed men. Now, it is
evident that the drunkard may give up his drunkenness, because
checked by a serious impression of the injury he has been doing
to his health and his circumstances. The backbiter may give up
his evil speaking, on being made to perceive that the hateful practice has brought upon him the contempt and alienation of his
neighbors. The extortioner may give up his unfair charges, upon
taking it into calculation that his business is likely to suffer by the
desertion of his customers. Now, it is evident, that though in
each of these cases there has been what the world would call reformation, there has not been scriptural repentance. The deficiency of this term consists in its having been employed to denote




270              CALL TO THE UNCONVERTED.
a mere change in the deeds or in the habits of the outward man;
and if employed as equivalent to repentance, it may delude us
into the idea that the change by which we are made meet for a
happy eternity is a far more slender and superficial thing than it
really is. It is of little importance to be told that the translator
means it only in the sense of a reformed conduct, proceeding from
the influence of a new and a right principle within. The common
meaning of the word will, as in the former instance, be ever and
anon intruding itself, and get the better of all the formal cautions,
and all the qualifying clauses of our Bible commentators.
But, will not the original word itself throw some light upon this
important question? The repentance which is enjoined as a duty
— the repentance which is unto salvation-the repentance which
sinners undergo when they pass to a state of acceptance with
God from a state of enmity against him-these are all one and
the same thing, and are expressed by one and the same word in
the original language of the New Testament. It is different firom
the word which expresses the repentance of sorrow; and if translated according to the parts of which it is composed, it signifies
neither more nor less than a change of mind. This of itself is
sufficient to prove the inadequacy of the term reformation —a
term which is often applied to a man upon the mere change of his
conduct, without ever adverting to the state of his mind, or to the
kind of change in motive and in principle which it lhas undergone.
It is true that there can be no change in the conduct without some
change in the inward principle. A reformed drunkard, before
careless about health or fortune, may be so far changed as to become impressed with these considerations; but this change is evidently short of that which the Bible calls repentance towards God.
It is a change that may, and has taken place in many a mind,
when there was no effectual sense of the God who is above us,
and of the eternity which is before us. It is a change, brought
about by the prospect and the calculation of many advantages;
and, in the enjoyment of these advantages, it hath its sole reward.
But it is not done unto God, and God will not accept of it as done
unto him. Reformation may signify nothing more than the mere
surface-dressing of those decencies, and proprieties, and accomplishments, and civil and prudential duties, which, however fitted
to secure a man's acceptance in society, may, one and all of them,
consist with a heart alienated from God, and having every principle and affection of the inner man away from him. True, it is
such a change as the man will reap benefit from, as his friends
will rejoice in, as the world will call reformation; but it is not
such a change as will make him meet for heaven, and is deficient
in its import from what our Saviour speaks of when he says, " I
tell you nay, except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish."
There is no single word in the English language which occurs
to us as fully equal to the faithful rendering of the term in the




CALL TO THE UNCONVERTED.               271
original. Renewedness of mind, however awkward a phrase this
may be, is perhaps the most nearly expressive of it. Certain it is,
that it harmonizes with those other passages of the Bible where
the process is described by which saving repentance is brought
about. We read of being transformed by the renewing of our
minds, of the renewing of the Holy Ghost, of being renewed in
the spirit of our minds. Scriptural repentance, therefore, is that
deep and radical change whereby a soul turns from the idols of
sin and of self unto God, and devotes every movement of the inner
and the outer man, to the captivity of his obedience. This is the
change which, whether it be expressed by one word or not in the
English language, we would have you well to understand; and
reformation or change in the outward conduct, instead of being
saving and scriptural repentance, is what, in the language of John
the Baptist, we would call a fruit meet for it. But if mischief is
likely to arise, from the want of an adequate word in our language,
to that repentance which is unto salvation, there is one effectual
preservative against it-a firm and consistent exhibition of the
whole counsel and revelation of God. A man who is well read in
his New Testament, and reads it with docility, will dismiss all his
meagre conceptions of repentance, when he comes to the following statements:-" Except a man be born again, he cannot see
the kingdom of God."  "Except ye be converted, and become as
little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven."
"If any man have not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of his."
"The carnal mind is enmity against God; and if ye live after the
flesh, ye shall die: but if ye, through the Spirit, do mortify the
deeds of the body, ye shall live."  "By the washing of regeneration ye are saved." " Be not then conformed to this world, but
be ye transformed by the renewing of your minds." Such are
the terms employed to describe the process by which the soul of
man is renewed unto repentance; and, with your hearts familiarized to the mighty import of these terms, you will carry with you
an effectual guarantee against those false and flimsy impressions,
which are so current in the world, about the preparation of a sinner for eternity.
Another delusion which we shall endeavor to expose, is a very
mischievous application of the parable of the laborers in the vineyard, contained in the twentieth chapter of the Gospel by Matthew. The interpretation of this parable, the mischief and delusion of which we shall endeavor to lay open, is, that it relates to
the call of individuals, and to the different periods in the age of
each individual at which this call is accepted by them. We almost
know nothing more familiar to us, both in the works of authors,
and in the conversation of private Christians, than when the repentance of an aged man is the topic, it is represented as a case
of repentance at the eleventh hour of the day. We are far from
disputing the possibility of such a repentance, nor should those




272                    CALL TO  THE UNCONVERTED.
who address the message of the Gospel ever be restrained from
the utterance of the free call of the Gospel, in the hearing of the
oldest and most inveterate sinner whom they may meet with.
But what we contend for, is, that this is not the drift of the parable. The parable relates to the call of nations, and to the different periods in the age of the world at which this call was addressed
to each of them, and not, as we have already observed, to the call
of individuals, and to the different periods in the age of each individual, at which this call is accepted  by them.+   It is not true
that the laborers who began to work in the vineyard on the first
hour of the day, denote those Christians who began to remember
their Creator, and to render the obedience of the faith unto his
Gospel with their first and earliest education.   It is not true, that
they who entered into this service on the third hour of the day,
denote those Christians, who after a boyhood of thoughtless unconcern about the things of eternity, are arrested in the season
of youth, by a visitation of seriousness, and betake themselves to
the faith and the following of the Saviour who died for them. It
* To render our argument more intelligible, we shall briefly state what we conceive to
be the true explanation of the parable. In the verses preceding the parable, Peter had
stated the whole amount of the surrender that he and his fellow disciples had made by
the act of following after Jesus; and it is evident, that they all looked forward to some
great temporal remuneration-some share in the glories of the Israelitish monarchysome place of splendor or distiction under the new government, which they imagined
was to be set up in the world; and they never conceived anything else, than that in this
altered state of things, the people of their own country were to be raised to high pre-eminence among the nations which had oppressed and degraded them. It was in the face
ofthis expectation, that our Saviour uttered a sentence, which we meet oftener than once
among His recorded sayings in the New Testament, " Many that are first shall be last,
and the last shall be first."  The Israelites, whom God distinguished at an early period
of the world, by a revelation of Himself, were first invited in the doing of His will (which
is fitly enough represented by working in His vineyard) to the possession of His favor,
and the enjoyment of His rewards. This offer to work in that peculiar vineyard, where
God assigned to them a performance, and bestowed on them a recompense, was made to
Abraham and to his descendants at a very early period in history; and a succession of
prophets and righteous men were sent to renew the offer, and the communications from
God to the world, followed the stream of ages, down to the time of the utterence of this
parable. And a few years afterwards, the same offers, and the same invitations, were addressed to another people; and at this late period, at this eleventh hour, the men of those
countries which had never before been visited by any authoritative call from heaven, had
this call lifted up in their hearing, and many Gentiles accepted that everlasting life, of
which the Jews counted themselves unworthy. And as to the people of Israel, who
valued themselves so much on their privileges-who had turned all the revelations, by
which their ancestors had been honored, into a matter of distinction and of vain security
-who had ever been in the habit of eyeing the profane Gentiles with all that contempt
which is laid upon outcasts, this parable received its fulfilment at the time when these
Gentiles, by their acceptance of the Saviour, were exalted to an equal place among the
chiefest favorites of God; and these Jews, by their refusal of Him, had their name rooted
out from among the nations-and those first and foremost in all the privileges of religion,
are now become the last. Now this we conceive to be the real design of the parable. It
was designed to reconcile the minds of the disciples to that part of the economy of God,
which was most offensive to their hopes and to their prejudices. It asserted the sovereignty of the Supreme Being in the work of dispensing His calls and His favors among
the people whom He had formed. It furnished a most decisive and silencing reproof to
the Jews, who were filled with envy against the Gentiles; and who, even those of them
that embraced the Christian profession, made an obstinate struggle against theadmission
of those Gentiles into the church on equal terms with themselves.




CALL TO THE UNCONVERTED.              273
is not true, that they who were hired on the sixth and ninth hours,
denote those Christians, who, after having spent the prime of their
youthful vigor in alienation from God, and perhaps run out some
mad career of guilt and profligacy, put on the Christianity along
with the decencies of their sober and established manhood.
Neither is it true, that the laborers of the eleventh hour, the men
who had stood all day idle, represent those aged converts who have
put off their repentance to the last-those men who have renounced
the world when they could not help it-those men who have put
on Christianity, but not till they had put on their wrinkles-those
men who have run the varied stages of depravity, from the frivolous unconcern of a boy, and the appalling enormities of misled
and misguided youth, and the deep and determined worldliness
of middle age, and the clinging avarice of him, who, while with
slow and tottering footsteps he descends the hill of life, has a heart
more obstinately set than ever on all its interests, and all its sordid
accumulations, but who, when death taps at the door, awakens
from his dream, and thinks it now time to shake away his idolatrous affections from the mammon of unrighteousness.
Such are the men who, after having taken their full swing of
all that the world could offer, and of all that they could enjoy of
it, defer the whole work of preparation for eternity to old age,
and for the hire of the laborers of the eleventh hour, do all that
they can in the way of sighs, and sorrows, and expiations of penitential acknowledgment. What! will we offer to liken such men
to those who sought the Lord early, and who found him? Will
we say that he who repents when old, is at all to be compared to
him, who bore the whole heat and burden of a life, devoted
throughout all its stages to the glory and the remembrance of the
Creator?  Who, from a child, trembled at the word of the Lord,
and aspired after a conformity to all his ways? Who, when a
young man, fulfilled that most appropriate injunction of the apostle, "Be thou strong?"  Who fought it with manly determination
against all the enemies of principle by which he was surrounded,
and spurned the enticements of vicious acquaintances away from
him; and nobly stood it out, even though unsupported and alone,
against the unhallowed contempt of a whole multitude of scorners;
and with intrepid defiance to all the assaults of ridicule, maintained
a firmness, which no wile could seduce from the posts of vigilance;
and cleared his unfaltering way through all the allurements of a
perverse and crooked generation. Who, even in the midst of a
most withering atmosphere on every side of him, kept all his purposes unbroken, and all his delicacies untainted.  Who, with the
rigor of self-command, combined the softening lustre which a
pure and amiable modesty sheds over the moral complexion of
him who abhors that which is evil, and cleaves to that which is
good, with all the energy of a holy determination. Can that be,
a true interpretation, which levels this youth of promise and of
35




274             CALL TO TIIE UNCONVERTED,
accomplishment, with his equal in years, who is now prosecuting
every guilty indulgence, and crowns the audacity of his rebellion
by the mad presumption, that ere he dies, he shall be able to propitiate that God, on the authority of all whose calls, and all whose
remonstrances, he is now trampling? Or follow each of them to
the evening of their earthly pilgrimage-will you say that the
penitent of the eleventh hour, is at all to be likened to him who
has given the whole of his existence to the work and the labor of
Christianity? to him who, after a morning of life adorned with
all the gracefulness we have attempted to describe, sustains
through the whole of his subsequent history such a high and ever
brightening example, that his path is like the shining light, which
shineth more and more unto the perfect day; and every year he
lives, the graces of an advancing sanctification form into a richer
assemblage of all that is pure, and lovely, and honorable, and of
good report; and when old age comes, it brings none of the turbulence or alarm of an unfinished preparation along with it-but
he meets death with the quiet assurance of a man who is in readiness, and hails his message as a friendly intimation; and as he
lived in the splendor of ever-increasing acquirements, so he dies
in all the radiance of anticipated glory.
This interpretation of the parable cannot be sustained; and we
think, that, out of its own mouth, a condemnation may be stamped
upon it. Mark this peculiarity.  The laborers of the eleventh
hour are not men who got the offer before, but men who for the
first time received a call to work in the vineyard; and they may
therefore well represent the people of a country, who, for the first
time, received the overtures of the Gospel. The answer they
gave to the question, Why stand you so long idle? was, that no
man had hired them. We do not read of any of the laborers of
the third, or sixth, or ninth hours, refusing the call at these times,
and afterwards rendering a compliance with the evening call, and
getting the penny for which they declined the offer of working
several hours, but afterwards agreed when the proposal was made,
that they should work one hour only. They had a very good
answer to give, in excuse for their idleness. They never had
been called before. And the oldest men of a Pagan country have
the very same answer to give, on the first arrival of Christian
missionaries amongst them. But we have no part nor lot in this
parable. We have it not in our power to offer any such apology.
There is not one of us who can excuse the impenitency of the
past, on the plea that no man had called us. This is a call that
has been sounded in our ears, from our very infancy. Every
time we have seen a Bible on our shelves, we have had a call.
Every time we have heard a minister in the pulpit, we have
had a call. Every time we have heard the generous invitation,
" Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye unto the waters," we have
had a solemn, and what ought to have been a most impressive,




CALL TO TIlE UNCONVERTED.              275
call. Every time that a parent has plied us with a good advice,
or a neighbor come forward with a friendly persuasion, we have
had a call. Every time that the Sabbath bell has rung for us to
the house of God, we have had a call. These are all so many
distinct and repeated calls. These are past events in our life,
which rise in judgment against us, and remind us, with a justice
of argument that there is no evading, that we have no right whatever to the privileges of the eleventh hour.
This, then, is the tra;n to which we feel ourselves directed by
this parable. The mischievous interpretation which has been put
upon. it, has wakened up our alarms, and set us to look at the delusion which it fosters, and, if possible, to drag out to the light of
day, the fallacy which lies in it. We should like to reduce every
man to the feeling of the alternative of repentance now, or repentance never. We should like to flash it upon your convictions,
that, by putting the call away from you now, you put your eternity away from you. We should like to expose the whole amount
of that accursed infatuation which lies in delav. We should like
to arouse every soul out of its lethargies, and giving no quarter
to the plea of a little more sleep, and a little more slumber, we
should like you to feel as if the whole of your future destiny
hinged on the very first movement to which you turned yourselves.
The work of repentance must have a beginning; and we should
like you to know, that, if not begun to-day, the chance will be less
of its being begun to-morrow. And if the greater chance has
failed, what hope can we build upon the smaller?-and a chance
too that is always getting smaller. Each day, as it revolves over
the sinner's head, finds him a harder, and a more obstinate, and a
more helplessly enslaved sinner, than before. It was this consideration which gave Richard Baxter such earnestness and such
urgency in his "Call." He knew that the barrier in the way of
the sinner's return, was strengthened by every act of resistance
to the call which urges it. That the refusal of this moment hardened the man against the next attack of a Gospel argument that is
brought to bear upon him. That if he attempted you now, and
he failed, when he came back upon you, he would find himself
working on a more obstinate and uncomplying subject than ever.
And therefore it is, that he ever feels as if the present were his
only opportunity. That he is now upon his vantage ground, and
he gives every energy of his soul to the great point of making the
most of it. He will put up with none of your evasions. He will
consent to none of your postponements. He will pay respect to
none of your more convenient seasons. He tells you, that the
matter with which he is charged, has all the urgency of a matter
in hand. He speaks to you with as much earnestness as if he
knew that you were going to step into eternity in half an hour.
He delivers his message with as much solemnity as if he knew




276             CALL TO THE UNCONVERTED.
that this was your last meeting on earth, and that you were
never to see each other till you stood together at the judgmentseat. He knew that some mighty change must take place in
you, ere you be fit for entering into the presence of God; and
that the time in which, on every plea of duty and of interest,
you should bestir yourselves to secure this, is the present time.
This is the distinct point he assigns to himself; and the whole
drift of his argument, is to urge an instantaneous choice of the
better part, by telling you how you multiply every day the obstacles to your future repentance, if you begin not the work of
repentance now.
Before bringing our Essay to a close, we shall make some observations on the mistakes concerning repentance which we have
endeavored to expose, and adduce some arguments for urging on
the consciences of our readers the necessity and importance of
immediate repentance.
i. The work of repentance is a work which must be done ere
we die; for, unless we repent, we shall all likewise perish. Now,
the easier this work is in our conception, we will think it the less
necessary to enter upon it immediately. We will look upon it as
a work that may be done at any time, and let us, therefore, put it
off a little longer, and a little longer. We will perhaps look forward to that retirement from the world and its temptations which
we figure old age to bring along with it, and falling in with the
too common idea, that the evening of life is the appropriate season of preparation for another world, we will think that the
author is bearing too closely and too urgently upon us, when, in
the language of the Bible, he speaks of "to-day," while it is called
to-day, and will let us off with no other repentance than repentance "now," -seeing that now only is the accepted time, and
now only the day of salvation, which he has a warrant to proclaim to us. This dilatory way of it is very much favored by the
mistaken and very defective view of repentance which we have
attempted to expose. We have somehow or other got into the
delusion, that repentance is sorrow, and little else; and were we
called to fix upon the scene where this sorrow is likely to be felt
in the degree that is deepest and most overwhelming, we would
point to the chamber of the dying man. It is awful to think that,
generally speaking, this repentance of mere sorrow is the only
repentance of a death-bed. Yes! we will meet with sensibility
deep enough and painful enough there-with regret in all its bitterness —with terror mustering up its images of despair, and
dwelling upon them in all the gloom of an affrighted imagination;
and this is mistaken, not merely for the drapery of repentance,
but for the very substance of it. We look forward, and we count
upon this-that the sins of a life are to be expunged by the sighing
and the sorrowing of the last days of it. We should give up this
wretchedly superficial notion of repentance, and cease, from this




CALL TO THE UNCONVERTED.               277
moment, to be led astray by it. The mind may sorrow over its
corruptions at the very time that it is under the power of them.
To grieve because we are under the captivity of sin is one thing
-to be released from that captivity is another. A man may
weep most bitterly over the perversities of his moral constitution; but to change that constitution is a different affair. Now,
this is the mighty work of repentance. He who has undergone
it is no longer the servant of sin. He dies unto sin, he lives unto
God. A sense of the authority of God is ever present with him,
to wield the ascendency of a great master-principle over all his
movements-to call forth every purpose, and to carry it forward
through all the opposition of sin and of Satan, into accomplishment. This is the grand revolution in the state of the mind which
repentance brings along with it. To grieve because this work is
not done, is a very different thing from the doing of it. A deathbed is the very best scene for acting the first; but it is the very
worst for acting the second. The repentance of Judas has often
been acted there. We ought to think of the work in all its magnitude, and not to put it off to that awful period when the soul is
crowded with other things, and has to maintain its weary struggle with the pains, and the distresses, and the shiverings, and the
breathless agonies of a death-bed.
2. There are two views that may be taken of the way in which
repentance is brought about, and whichever of them is adopted,
delav carries along with it the saddest infatuation.  It may be
looked upon as a step taken by man as a voluntary agent, and
we would ask you, upon your experience of the powers and the
performances of humanity, if a death-bed is the time for taking
such a step? Is this a time for a voluntary being exercising a
vigorous control over his own movements? When racked with
pain, and borne down by the pressure of a sore and overwhelming calamity? Surely the greater the work of repentance is,
the more ease, the more time, the more freedom from suffering, is
necessary for carrying it on; and, therefore, addressing you as
voluntary beings, as beings who will and who do, we call upon
you to seek God early that you may find him-to haste, and make
no delay in keeping his commandments. The other view is, that
repentance is not a self-originating work in man, but the work of
the Holy Spirit in him as the subject of its influences. This view
is not opposite to the former. It is true that man wills and does
at every step in the business of his salvation: and it is as true
that God works in him so to will and to do. Take this last view
of it then. Look on repentance as the work of God's Spirit in
the soul of man, and we are furnished with a more impressive
argument than ever, and set on higher vantage for urging you to
stir yourselves, and set about it immmediately. What is it that
you propose? To keep by your present habits, and your present
indulgencies —and build yourselves up all the while in the confi



278             CALL TO THE UNCONVERTED.
dence that the Spirit will interpose with His mighty power of
conversion upon you, at the very point of time that you have
fixed upon as convenient and agreeable?  And how do you conciliate the Spirit's answer to your call then?  Why, by doing all
you can to grieve, and to quench, and to provoke Him to abandon
you now. Do you feel a motion towards repentance at this mo.
ment?  If you keep it alive, and act upon it, good and well. But
if you smother and suppress this motion, you resist the Spiritvou stifle His movements within you: it is what the impenitent
do day after day, and year after year-and is this the way for securing the influences of the Spirit, at the time that you would like
them best? When you are done with the world, and are looking
forward to eternity because you cannot help it? God says, " My
Spirit will not always strive with the children of men." A good
and a free Spirit He undoubtedly is, and as a proof of it, He is
now saying, " Let whosoever will, come and drink of the water
of life fieely."  He says so now, but we do not promise that He
will say so with effect upon your death-beds, if you refuse Him
now. You look forward then for a powerful work of conversion
being done upon you, and yet you employ yourselves all your
life long in raising and multiplying obstacles against it. You
count upon a miracle of grace before you die, and the way you
take to make yourselves sure of it, is to grieve and offend Him
while you live, who alone can perform the miracle. 0 what
cruel deceits will sin land us in! and how artfully it pleads for a
"' little more sleep, and a little more slumber; a little more folding
of the hand~ to sleep." We should hold out no longer, nor make
not such an abuse of the forbearance of God: we will treasure
up wrath against the day of wrath if we do so. The genuine
effect of his goodness is to lead to repentance; let not its effect
upon us be to harden and encourage ourselves in the ways of sin.
We should cry now for the clean heart and the right spirit; and
such is the exceeding freeness of the Spirit of God, that we will
be listened to. If we put off the cry till then, the same God may
laugh at our calamity, and mock when our fear cometh.
3. Our next argument for immediate repentance is, that we
cannot bring forward, at any future period of your history, any
considerations of a more prevailing or more powerfully moving
influence than those we may bring forward at this moment. We
can tell you now of the terrors of the Lord. We can tell you
now of the solemn mandates which have issued from his throneand the authority of which is upon one and all of you. We can
tell you now, that though, in this dead and darkened world, sin
appears but a very trivial affair-for everybody sins, and it is
shielded from execration by the universal countenance of an entire species lying in wickedness-yet it holds true of God, what
is so emphatically said of him, that he cannot be mocked, nor will
he endure it that you should riot in the impunity of your wilful




CALL TO THE UNCONVERTED.             279
resistance to him and to his warnings. We can tell you now, that
he is a God of vengeance; and though, for a season, he is keeping back all the thunders of it from a world that he would like to
reclaim unto himself, yet, if you put all his expostulations away
from you, and will not be reclaimed, these thunders will be let
loose upon you, and they will fall on your guilty heads, armed
with tenfold energy, because you have not qnly defied his threats,
but turned your back on his offers of reconciliation. These are
the arguments by which we would try to open our way to vour
consciences, and to awaken up your fears, and to put the inspiring activity of hope into your bosoms, by laying before you those
invitations which are addressed to the sinner, through the peacespeaking blood of Jesus, and in the name of a beseeching God, to
win your acceptance of them. At no future period can we address arguments more powerful and more affecting than these.
If these arguments do not prevail upon you, we know of none
others by which a victory over the stubborn and uncomplying
will can be accomplished, or by which we can ever hope to beat
in that sullen front of resistance wherewith you now so impregnably withstand us. We feel that, if any stout-hearted sinner
shall rise from the persual of these Treatises with an unawakened
conscience, and give himself to an act of wilful disobedience, we
feel as if, in reference to him, we had made our last discharge,
and it fell powerless as water spilt on the ground, that cannot be
gathered up again. We would not cease to ply him with our arguments, and tell him, to the hour of death, of the Lord God,
merciful and gracious, who is not willing that any should perish,
but that all should turn to him, and live. And if in future life we
should meet him at the eleventh hour of his dark and deceitful
day-a hoary sinner, sinking under the decrepitude of age, and
bending on the side of the grave that is open to receive himeven then we would testify the exceeding freeness of the grace
of God, and implore his acceptance of it. But how could it be
away from our minds that he is not one of the evening laborers
of the parable? We had met with him at former periods of his
existence, and the offer we make him now we made him then, and
he did what the laborers of the third, and sixth, and ninth hours
of the parable did not do-he rejected our call to hire him into
the vineyard; and this heartless recollection, if it did not take
all our energy away from us, would leave us little else than the
energy of despair. And therefore it is, that we speak to you now
as if this was our last hold of you. We feel as if on your present purpose hung all the preparations of your future life, and all
the rewards or all the horrors of your coming eternity. We
will not let you off with any other repentance than repentance
now; and if this be refused now, we cannot, with our eyes open
to the consideration we have now urged, that the instrument we
make to bear upon you afterwards is not more powerful than we




280             CALL TO TIlE UNCONVERTED.
are wielding now, coupled with another consideration which we
shall insist upon, that the subject on which the instrument worketh,
even the heart of man, gathers, by every act of resistance, a more
uncomplying obstinacy than before; we cannot, with these two
thoughts in our mind, look forward to your future history, without
seeing spread over the whole path of it the iron of a harder impenitency-the sullen gloom of a deeper and more determined
alienation.
4. Another argument, therefore, for immediate repentance is,
that the mind which resists a present call or a present reproof
undergoes a progressive hardening towards all those considerations which arm the call of repentance with all its energy. It is
not enough to say, that the instrument by which repentance is
brought about, is not more powerful to-morrow than it is to-day;
it lends a most tremendous weight to the argument, to say further,
that the subject on which this instrument is putting forth its efficiency, will oppose a firmer resistance to-morrow than it does today. It is this which gives a significancy so powerful to the call
of " To-day while it is to-day, harden not your hearts;" and to the
admonition of "Knowest thou not, O man, that the goodness of
God leadeth thee to repentance; but after, thy hardness and impenitent heart treasurest up' wrath against the day of wrath and
revelation of the righteous judgments of God?" It is not said,
either in the one or in the other of these passages, that, by the
present refusal, you cut yourself off from a future invitation. The
invitation may be sounded in your hearing to the last half hour of
your earthly existence, engraved in all those characters of free
and gratuitous kindness which mark the beneficent religion of the
New Testament. But the present refusal hardens you against
the power and tenderness of the future invitation. This is the
fact in human nature to which these passages seem to point, and
it is the fact through which the argument for immediate repentance receives such powerful aid from the wisdom of experience.
It is this which forms the most impressive proof of the necessity
of plying the young with all the weight and all the tenderness of
earnest admonition, that the now susceptible mind might not turn
into a substance harder and more uncomplying than the rock
which is broken in pieces by the powerful application of the hammer of the word of God.
The metal of the humnan soul, so to speak, is like some material
substances. If the force you lay upon it do not break it, or dissolve it, it will beat it into hardness. If the moral argument by
which it is plied now, do not so soften the mind as to carry and to
overpower its purposes, then, on another day, the argument may
be put forth in terms as impressive-but it falls on a harder mind,
and, therefore, with a more slender efficiency. If the threat, that
ye who persist in sin shall have to dwell with the devouring fire,
and to lie down amid everlasting burnings, do not alarm you out




CALL TO THE UNCONVERTED.               281
of your iniquities from this very moment, then the same threat
may be again cast out, and the same appalling circumstances of
terror be thrown around it, but it is all discharged on a soul hardened by its inurement to the thunder of denunciations already uttered, and the urgency of menacing, threatenings already poured
forth without fruit and without efficacy.  If the voice of a beseeching God do not win upon you now, and charm you out of
your rebellion against him, by the persuasive energy of kindness,
then let that voice be lifted in your hearing on some future day,
and though armed with all the power of tenderness it ever had,
how shall it find its entrance into a heart sheathed by the operation of habit, that universal law, in more impenetrable obstinacy?
If, with the earliest dawn of your understanding, you have been
offered the hire of the morning laborer and have refused it, then
the parable does not say that you are the person who at the third,
or sixth, or ninth, or eleventh hour, will get the offer repeated to
you. It is true, that the offer is unto all and upon all who are
within reach of the hearing of it. But there is all the difference in the world between the impression of a new offer, and of
an offer that has already been often heard and as often rejected
— an offer which comes upon you with all the familiarity of a wellknown sound that you have already learned how to dispose of,
and how to shut your every feeling against the power of its gracious invitations-an offer which, if discarded from your hearts
at the present moment, may come back upon you, but which will
have to maintain a more unequal contest than before, with an impenitency ever strengthening, and ever gathering new hardness
from each successive act of resistance. And thus it is that the
point for which we are contending is not to carry you at some
future period of your lives, but to carry you at this moment. It
is to work in you the instantaneous purpose of a firm and a vigorously sustained repentance; it is to put into you all the freshness
of an immediate resolution, and to stir you up to all the readiness
of an immediate accomplishment-it is to give direction to the
very first footstep you are now to take, and lead you to take it as
the commencement of that holy career, in which all old things are
done away, and all things become new —it is to press it upon. you,
that the state of the alternative, at this moment, is " now or never"
-it is to prove how fearful the odds are against you, if now you
suffer the call of repentance to light upon your consciences, and
still keep by your determined posture of careless, and thoughtless,
and thankless unconcern about God. You have resisted to-day,
and by that resistance you have acquired a firmer metal of resistance against the power of every future warning that may be
brought to bear upon you. You have stood your ground against
the urgency of the most earnest admonitions, and against the dreadfulness of the most terrifying menaces. On that ground you have
fixed yourself more immovably than before; and though on some
36




282              CALL TO THE UNCONVERTED.
future day the same spiritual thunder be made to play around you,
it will not shake you out of the obstinacy of your determined rebellion.
It is the universal law of habit, that the feelings are always getting more faintly and feebly impressed by every repetition of the
cause which excited them, and that the mind is always getting
stronger in its active resistance to the impulse of these feelings,
by every new deed of resistance which it performs; and thus it
is, that if you refuse us now, we have no other prospect before us
than that your cause is every day getting more desperate and more
irrecoverable, your souls are getting more hardened, the Spirit is
getting more provoked to abandon those who have so long persisted in their opposition to his movements. God, who says that
his Spirit will not always strive with the children of men, is getting more offended. The tyranny of habit is getting every day a
firmer ascendency over you; Satan is getting you more helplessly
involved among his wiles and his entanglements; the world, with
all the inveteracy of those desires which are opposite to the will
of the Father, is more and more lording it over your every affection.
And what, we would ask, what is the scene in which you are
now purposing to contest it, with all this mighty force of opposition you are now so busy in raising up against you? What is the
field of combat to which you are now looking forward, as the
place where you are to accomplish a victory over all those formidable enemies whom you are at present arming with such a weight
of hostility, as, we say, within a single hairbreadth of certainty,
you will find to be irresistible? 0 the bigness of such a misleading infatuation! The proposed scene in which this battle for eternity is to be fought, and this victory for the crown of glory is to
be won, is a death-bed. It is when the last messenger stands by
the couch of the dying man, and shakes at him the terrors of his
grizly countenance, that the poor child of infatuation thinks he is
to struggle and prevail against all his enemies; against the unrelenting tyranny of habit-against the obstinacy of his own heart,
which he is now doing so much to harden —against the Spirit of
God who perhaps long ere now has pronounced the doom upon
him, " IIe will take his own way, and walk in his own counsel;
I shall cease from striving, and let him alone"-against Satan,
to whom every day of his life he has given some fresh advantage over him, and who will not be willing to lose the victim on
whom he has practised so many wiles, and plied with success so
many delusions. And such are the enemies whom you, who
wretchedly calculate on the repentance of the eleventh hour, are
every day mustering up in greater force and formidableness
against you: and how can we think of letting you go, with any
other repentance than the repentance of the precious moment
that is now passing over you, when we look forward to the hor.




CALL TO THE UNCONVERTED.              283
rors of that impressive scene, on which you propose to win the
prize of immortality, and to contest it single-handed and alone,
with all the weight of opposition which you have accumulated
against yourselves-a death-bed-a languid, breathless, tossing,
and agitated death-bed; that scene of feebleness, when the poor
man cannot help himself to a single mouthful-when he must have
attendants to sit around him, and watch his every wish, and interpret his every signal, and turn him to every posture where he
may find a moment's ease, and wipe away the cold sweat that is
running over him —and ply him with cordials for thirst, and sickness, and insufferable languor. And this is the time, when occupied with such feelings, and beset with such agonies as these, you
propose to crowd within the compass of a few wretched days, the
work of winding up the concerns of a neglected eternity!
5. But it may be said, if repentance be what you represent it.
a thing of such mighty import, and such impracticable performance, as a change of mind, in what rational way can it be made
the subject of a precept or an injunction? you would not call upon
the Ethiopian to change his skin —you would not call upon the
leopard to change his spots; and yet you call upon us to change
our minds. You say, " Repent;" and that too in the face of the
undeniable doctrine, that man is without strength for the achievement of so mighty an enterprise. Can you tell us any plain and
practicable thing that you would have us to perform, and that we
may perform to help on this business? This is the very question
with which the hearers of John the Baptist came back upon him,
after he had told them in general terms to repent, and to bring
forth fruits meet for repentance. He may not have resolved the
difficulty, but he pointed the expectations of his countrymen to a
greater than he for the solution of it. Now that Teacher has
already come, and we live under the full and the finished splendor
of His revelation. O that the greatness and difficulty of the
work of repentance, had the effect of shutting you up into the
faith of Christ! Repentance is not a paltry, superficial reformation. It reaches deep into the inner man, but not too deep for the
searching influences of that Spirit which is at His giving, and
which worketh mightily in the hearts of believers. You should
go then under a sense of your difficulty to Him. Seek to be
rooted in the Saviour, that you may be nourished out of His fulness, and strengthened by His might. The simple cry for a clean
heart, and a right spirit, which is raised from the mouth of a believer, brings down an answer from on high, which explains all
the difficulty and overcomes it. And if what we have said of the
extent and magnitude of repentance, should have the effect to
give a deeper feeling than before of the wants under which you
labor; and shall dispose yog to seek after a closer and more habitual union with Him who alone can supply them, then will our
call to repent have indeed fulfilled upon you the appointed end of a




284              CALL TO THE UNCONVERTED.
preparation for the Saviour. But recollect now is your time, and
now is your opportunity, for entering on the road of preparation
that leads to heaven. We charge you to enter this road at this
moment, as you value your deliverance from hell, and your possession of that blissful place where you shall be forever with the
Lord-we charge you not to parry and to delay this matter, no,
not for a single hour —we gall on you by all that is great in eternity —by all that is terrifying in its horrors-by all that is alluring
in its rewards —by all that is binding in the authority of God-by
all that is condemning in the severity of His violated law, and by
all that can aggravate this condemnation in the insulting contempt
of His rejected Gospel;-,we call on you by one and all of these
considerations, not to hesitate but to flee-not to purpose a return
for to-morrow. but to make an actual return this very day-to put
a decisive end to every plan of wickedness on which you may
have entered-to cease vour hands from all that is forbidden-to
turn them to all that is required-to betake yourselves to the appointed Mediator, and receive through Him, by the prayer of
faith, such constant supplies of the washing of regeneration and
renewing of the Holy Ghost, that, from this moment, you may be
carried forward from one degree of grace unto another, and from
a life devoted to God here, to the elevation of a triumphant, and
the joys of a blissful eternity, hereafter.




INTRODUCTORY ESSAY
TO THE
CHRISTIAN'S DAILY WALK
IN HOLY SECURITY AND PEACE.
BY THE REV. HENRY SCUDDER.
IT is well known, that though Christianity was persecuted by
the Jews from the very outset of its promulgation. it was some
time before this religion provoked the wrath or the intolerance of
the Romans. The truth is, that on the part of the government at
Rome, there was a very general connivance at religion in all its
numerous varieties. And the reason of this was, that under the
system of Paganism no one variety, or modification, was thought
to exclude another. Each country was conceived to have its local deity-and each element of Nature to have its own pervading
spirit-and each new god of the provinces over which they extended their power, offered no disturbance to the habits of their
previous theology, but was easily disposed of by the bare addition
of another name to the catalogue. At this rate there was no conflict and no interference. By learning the religion of another
country, they simply extended their acquaintance with the world
of supernatural beings; just as by the conquest of that country,
they extended their acquaintance with the visible and the peopled
world around them. In such a capacious and elastic creed as that
of Paganism, there was room enough for all the superstitions of
all people. The sincerest possible homage for the gods of one
territory, admitted of an homage equally sincere for the gods of
another territory. Nay, by the same solemn act of worship, they
may, each and all of them, have been included, at one time, in one
general expression of faith and reverence. And this is the whole
amount of the boasted tolerance of antiquity.
We may easily perceive, how, in exception to this general spirit,
Christianity, from being the object of lenity, and even of occasional
protection by the Roman power, soon became the victim of its
fiercest persecutions. For a few years, its character and pretensions were not distinctly understood. It seems in truth to have




286               CHRISTIAN S DAILY WALK.
been regarded as a mere speciality of Judaism, and even though
it had partaken of all the narrowness of the parent religion from
which it sprung, yet would it have continued to share in the same
immunities, had it maintained the same indolent contempt for the
idolatry of the surrounding nations. But when it made a farther
development of its spirit; when it began to be felt in the force of
its active proselytism; when it was seen, that it not only admitted
of no compromise with the articles of another faith, but that it
aimed at the overthrow of every religion then in the world; when
men at last perceived, that instead of quietly taking its place
among their much-loved superstitions, it threatened the destruction of them all,-then, though truth and argument were its only
weapons, did the success with which they were wielded as much
offend and terrify the world as if they hadbeen the weapons of ordinary warfare; and though Jesus Christ would have been welcomed to a share of divine honors along with other deities, were
his followers resisted even unto blood, when they advanced his
claim, not to be added to the list of those deities, but utterly to
discard and dethrone them.
Now it may be thought that there can be nothing analogous to
this process in the present day, and within the limits of Christendom. But the truth is, that what obtained among the literal idolaters of a former age, is still more strikingly exemplified by those
of the present, who, in the spiritual and substantial sense of the
word, are chargeable with the whole guilt of idolatry. There
may be among us the most complacent toleration for a mitigated
and misconceived Christianity, while there is no toleration whatever for the real Christianity of the New Testament. So long as
it only claims an assigned place in the history of man, while it
leaves the heart of man in the undisturbed possession of all its
native and inborn propensities-so long as it confines itself to the
demand of a little room for its Sabbaths and its decencies, while
it leaves the general system of human life to move as before, at
the impulse of those old principles which have characterized the
mind of man throughout all the generations of the world-so long
as it exacts no more than an occasional act of devotion, while it
suffers the objects of wealth and fame, and temporal enjoyments,
to be prosecuted with as intense and habitual a devotion as everabove all, so long as the services which it imposes are not other
than the services which would have been rendered at all events
to the idol of interest, or the idol of reputation,-then Christianity,
so far from being the object of any painful recoil on the part of
man, is looked upon, by very many in society, as a seemly and
most desirable appendage to the whole mass of their other concerns. It is admitted to fill up what would be felt as a disagreeable vacuity. The man would positively be out of comfort, and
out of adjustment, without it. Meagre as his Christianity may be,
the omission of certain of its rites, and certain of its practices, would




CHRISTIAN S DAILY WALK.               287
give him uneasiness. It has its own place in the round of his affairs. and though what remaifM of the round is described very
much in the way it would have been, had there been no Christianity in the matter, yet would the entire and absolute want of it
make him feel as if the habit of his life had undergone a mutilation, as if the completeness of his practical system had suffered
violence.
And thus it is, that Christianity, in a moderate and superficial
form, may be gladly acquiesced in, while Christianity after it
comes to be understood in the magnitude of its pretensions may
be utterly nauseated. When it offers to disturb the deep habit
and repose of nature-when instead of taking its place among the
other concerns and affections of a disciple, it proceeds to subordinate them all-when instead of laying claim to a share of human
life, it lays claim to the sovereignty over it-when not satisfied
with the occasional homage of its worshippers, it casts a superintending eye over their hearts, and their business, and their lives,
and pronounces of every desire which is separate from the will
and the glory of God, that it is tainted with the sin of idolatry,when it thus proposes to search and to spiritualize, with the view
of doing away all that is old, and of making everything new, ancient Rome was never more in arms for her gods, than modern
humanity is in arms for her obstinate habits, and her longing propensities. And yet if' Christianity would tolerate nature, nature
would in return tolerate Christianity. She would even offer to
her the compromise of many hours and many services.  She
would build temples to her honor, and be present at all her sacraments. We behold an exhibition of this sort every day among
the decent and orderly professors of our faith; and it is not till
this antipathy be provoked by a full disclosure of the spirit and
exactions of the Gospel, that the whole extent of that antipathy
is known.
We may expatiate on the social or civil virtues, such as justice,
for example, without coming into collision with the antipathies of
nature. Even worldliness herself may listen with an approving
ear to the most rigid demonstration of this virtue. For though
justice be a required offering at the shrine of the Gospel of Jesus
Christ, it may also be, and it often is, both a required and a rendered
offering at the shrine of honor and interest.  The truth is, that a
man may have his heart fully set upon the world; and a portion
on this side of time may be the object in which he rests, and upon
which all his desires do terminate; and yet he may not feel himself painfully thwarted at all by the demand of an honesty the
most strict and inviolable. A compliance with this demand may
not break up his other idolatries in the least. In the practice of a
truth and an integrity as unlimited as any law of God can impose,
may he be borne rejoicingly along on the full tide of prosperity;
and by every new accession to his wealth, be multiplying the ties




288                CHRISTIAN S DAILY WALK.
which fasten him to the world. There is many an intense votary
of gain, who will bear to be toladhat he should be perfectly fair
and upright in the prosecution of it, and who will not bear to be
told, that the very intensity of this prosecution marks him out as
a child of earthliness-makes it manifest, that he is striking all his
roots into a perishable foundation-proves him to be the victim
of a disease, the symptoms of which lie much deeper than in his
external conduct-proves him. in short, to be unsound at heart,
and that, with a principle of life, which will survive the dissolution
of all that is visible, he, in strenuously laboring after its fancied
interest, is fast heaping upon it the wretchedness of eternity. That
morality which barely ventures to regulate the path that he is now
walking towards the objects of this world's ambition, he will tolerate and applaud. But the morality which denounces the ambition, the morality which would root out the very feelings that
hurry him onwards in the path; which bids him mortify his
affections for all that this world has to offer; which tells him not
to set his mind on any created thing, but to set his mind on the
Creator, and to have nothing farther to do with the world, than
as a place of passage and preparation for an abode of blessedness
in heaven,-the morality which tells him to cease his attachment
from those things with which he has linked the ruling desires, and
all the practical energies of his existence,-such morality as this,
he will resist with as much strenuousness as he would do a process of annihilation. The murderer who offers to destroy his life
will not be shrunk from in greater horror, or withstood in a firmer
spirit of determination, than the moralist who would force from
him the surrender of affections which seem to be interwoven with
his very being, and the indulgence of which has conferred upon it
all the felicities of which he has yet experienced it to be capable.
A revolution so violent looks as repulsive as death to the natural
man; and it is also represented under the image of death in the
Scripture. To cease from the desire of the eye, is to him a change
as revolting as to have the light of the eye extinguished. To cease
from the desire of the flesh, is to crucify the flesh. To cease from
the pride of life, is to renounce the life of nature altogether. In
a word, to cease from the desire of the old man, is not to turn,
but to destroy him. It is to have him buried with Christ in baptism. It is to have him planted together with Christ in the likeness of his death. It is not to impress a movement, but to inflict
a mortification.
But there is another very general misapprehension of peculiar
Christianity, as if it dispensed with service on the part of its disciples; as if it had set aside the old law of works, and thus superseded the necessity of working altogether; as if, in some way or
other, it substituted a kind of lofty mysticism in the place of that
plain obedience which is laid down for us by the ten commandments-sweeping away from  its new dispensation the moralities




CHRISTIAN S DAILY WALK.              289
and observances of the old one, and leaving nothing in their place
but a kind of cabalistic orthodoxy known only to the initiated
few, and with the formal profession of which they look mightily
safe and mightily satisfied.
Now we cannot become acquainted with Christianity without
perceiving. that after the transition has been made from the old
economy to the new, there is a service. This transition is signified by images expressive of the total change that is made in our
relations and circumstances, when we pass from Nature to the
Gospel-as the dissolution of a first marriage, and the entrance
upon a second-a dying and a coming alive again-a release from
one master, even the law, who formerly had the dominion over
us, and an engagement with another Master, even God, under
whom we are to bring forth the fruit that is lovely and acceptable
in his sight-all marking the very wide dissimilarity that there is
between the two states, and that when we have crossed the line
of separation between them, we have indeed got into another region, and breathe another atmosphere altogether from what we did
formerly-and yet there continues to subsist a service, performed,
no doubt, in a different spirit and in a different manner from what
it was before, but still a service. And indeed it is quite manifest,
from the apostolical writings, that the life of a Christian is expected to be all in a glow with labor and exertion, and manifold
activity-not spent in the indolence of mystic contemplation, but
abounding in work, and work too persevered in with immovable
steadfastness, and emanating from a zeal that ever actuates and
ever urges on to the performance of it. This is the habit of a disciple upon earth, and it would appear to be his habit even after he
is transported into heaven: " There thy servants serve thee."
So that whether we look to those years which are preparatory to
our entering upon the inheritance of glory, or to the eternity in
which the inheritance itself is enjoyed, still we find that under the
economy of grace there is a busy, strenuous and ever-doing service. It is not in fact by exemption from service, but by the new
spirit and principle wherewith the service is actuated, that the
economy of grace stands distinguished from the economy of the
law.  We are delivered from the law, not that we should be delivered from the service of obedience, but that we should serve
in newness of spirit, and not in the oldness of the letter.
The first remark that we offer, in the way of illustrating this
distinction between the new and the old economy, is, that there is
indeed a very different spirit between two men, one of whom
works, and that most incessantly, from the love that he bears to
the wages, and the other of whom works, and that just as incessantly, from the unconquerable taste and affection which he has
for the work itself. It is conceivable that the servant of some
lordly proprietor, is remunerated according to the quantity of game
which he fetches from the woods and the wastes of that ample
37




290               CHRISTIAN S DAILY WALK.
domain over which he expatiates —and that, under the dominion
of a thirst for lucre, from morning to night he gives himself up to
the occupation of a hunter. But it is conceivable of another, that
the romance, and adventure, and spirit-stirring hazard and variety
of such a life, are enough to fasten him, and that most intently,
throughout all the hours of the day, on the very same enterprise:
and thus, with a perfect likeness in the outward habit, may there
be in the habit and desire of the heart a total and entire dissimilarity. The service is the same, but the spirit of the service is
widely dissimilar. And this may just hold as true of the commandments of a heavenly, as of an earthly master. The children
of Israel looked to the decalogue that was graven upon tablets of
stone, and they knew that on their observation of it depended their
possession of the land of Canaan, the prosperity of their seasons,
and the peace of their habitations from the inroad of desolating
enemies. The love they bore to their inheritance, is love quite
distinguishable from the love they bore to that task which formed
the tenor upon which they held it-and it may just be as distinguishable in him who seeks to purchase, by his obedience, the
heavenly Canaan set forth to us in the Gospel, and who thinks of
this Canaan as a place of splendor, and music, and physical gratifications; who looks onward in fancy to its groves and its palaces, or who, as it stands revealed in perspective before him, on
the other side of death, figures it at large as a place of general
and boundless enjoyment, where pleasure ever circulates in tides
of ecstacy, and at least there is a secure and everlasting escape
from the horrors of the place of condemnation. A love for the
work, and a love for the wages, are here two different affections
altogether; and to reduce them to one, you must present heaven
in its true character, as a place of constant and unwearied obedience. The Israelite toiling in drudgery at the work of his ordinances, and that for the purpose of retaining his pleasant home on
this side of death-or the formal Christian walking the routine of
his ordinances, and that for the purpose of reaching a pleasant
home on the other side of death-either of them breathes a totally
different spirit from the man who finds the work of obedience
itself to be indeed a way of pleasantness and a path of delight to
him-who, without the bidding of his master at all, would, at the
bidding of his own heart, just move his hand as his master would
have him to do-who is in his element when engaged in the work
of the commandments, and to whose renovated taste and faculties
of moral sensation, the atmosphere of righteousness is in itself the
atmosphere of peace and joy.
The services of two men may thus externally be the same, and
yet, the spirit that animates the one and the other may just be as
different, as sordidness and sacredness are wide of one another.
And a difference of spirit is everything to Him with whom we
have to do. He sits at the head of a moral empire; and affec



CHRISTIAN'S DAILY WALK.                291
tion, and motive, and design are mainly the things of which he
takes cognizance; and discerner of hearts as he is, it is the desire of the heart upon which he fastens his chief attention; and
in his judgment it is indeed a question most decisive of character
whether this actuating desire be love to the work of righteousness, or only love to wages distinct from the work. To serve in
the first of these ways, is to serve in the newness of the spirit.
To serve in the second of them, is to serve in the oldness of the
letter; and the substitution of the one for the other, is that great
achievement which the Gospel personally and substantially makes
on every man who truly embraces it. It forms as essential a part
of that covenant which God makes with the believer as does the
forgiveness of sin. " This is the covenant, that I will put my law
in his heart." When it only stood graven upon a table of stone,
obedience was an affair of labor. But when the law is graven on
the fleshly tablet of the heart, obedience is an affair of love., It is
everything to God whether his service be felt by us as the
drudgery of a task, or as the delight of a congenial employment
-whether we painfully toil while it is doing, and are glad when it
is over-or are pleasantly carried along, through all the steps of
it, as of a work that we rejoice in —whether it be our hope, that
after the keeping of the commandments there will be a great reward, or it be our happy and present sensation, that in the keeping of the commandments there is a great reward. It is this
which distinguishes the service of our heavenly from that of our
earthly master. With the latter, after the work cometh the payment, and the doing of the one is a distinct and separate thing
from the enjoyment of the other. With the former, after the
work done now, cometh more work; after the business of using
aright a few talents, cometh the business of ruling and of managing
aright many things; after the praises and the services of the
church below, come the higher services, and more ecstatic praises,
of the sanctuary above; after the uprightness and the piety of
our present lives, cometh the busy obedience of that everlasting
land, which is called the land of uprightness: and how totally
different then must the newness of the spirit be from the oldness
of the letter; when, as with the one, the work is gone through
from the mere impulse of a subsequent reward, which selfishness
may seize upon and appropriate to its own indulgence, so with the
other, the work is gone through from the impulse of its own native
charm on the heart and taste of the delighted laborer, who is
happy in the service of God here, and whose brightest anticipation is, that he shall be translated into the capacity of serving him
more constantly and perfectly hereafter!
But, secondly, to do the work, because of the love that we bear
to the wages which our master gives us, is doing service in a spirit
altogether different from that of doing the work because of the
love that we bear to the master himself. The set and tendency




292                CHRISTIAN S DAILY WALK.
of the heart are altogether distinct in the one case from what
they are in the other. In the first way of it, the heart is set altogether upon its own gratification, and is under the entire dominion
of selfishness. In the second way of it, it is set upon the gratification of another. The two are as distinct, as is the spirit of him
who labors with the reluctancy of a slave, from the spirit of him
who labors with the devotedness of a generous and disinterested
friend. Now this is a change in the style and spirit of our obedience, which it is the object of Christianity to accomplish. To
serve God in the oldness of the letter is to eke out by tale and by
measure a certain quantity of work which we offer as an incense
to his selfishness-and in return for which he deals forth upon us
a certain amount of wages as a regale to our selfishness back
again-with as little of heart all the while in such an exchange,
as there is in the trafficking of mutual interest and mutual jealousy
which takes place at a market. There is no love between the parties-no generous delight in ministering the one to the satisfaction of the other-no pleasure in pleasing-no play of a reciprocal affection-no happiness felt from the single circumstance that
happiness has been bestowed. If this be the character of our
service under the law, there is surely room for a mighty amendment, or rather for a total revolution, of its spirit and principle
under the Gospel. Even had the law been rigidly kept on the
side of man, and its stipulations been rigidly fulfilled on the part
of God, there would still have been a coldness, and a distance,
and a tone of demand, on the one side, and a certain fearfulness
of diffidence and distrust on the other, under such an economy.
But the fact is, that the law has not been kept; and the consciousness of this perpetually overhung the wretched aspirant after a
righteousness which he never could fulfil; and he felt himself
haunted at every footstep of his exertions by the fear of a reckoning; still floundering however, while failing at every turn, and
burdened in spirit by a heavy and enfeebling sense of despair.
And that Being can never be regarded with joy, who is regarded
with jealousy. It is impossible that terror and love can both exist
in the same bosom towards the same God. It is not in sentient
nature to feel affection towards one of whom we are afraid-and
so long as the controversy of tasks undone, and accounts unpaid, remained unsettled, there was no getting at affection towards God. In these circumstances, the history of man might be
covered all over with deeds of religiousness, but the heart of man
is bound as to its desires and likings, with a spell that is utterly
indissoluble. It is frozen out of all love, by the chilling influences
of distrust, and terror, and guilty consciousness. He would fain
propitiate God for the sake of his own security, but he is too
much engrossed with himself to care about pleasing God for
the mere sake of pleasing Him. Obedience on such a principle
as this, appears to lie at an immeasurable distance from him; and




CHRISTIAN S DAILY WALK.              293
if he does persevere in a sort of religious drudgery, done in bondage, and done in slavish apprehension, it is the obedience of one
who serves in the oldness of the letter, but not in the newness of
the spirit.
Now to effect a transformation in the spirit of our services was
one great design of the Gospel of Jesus Christ-not to abolish
service, we should remark, but to animate it with a new principle
-not to set aside work, but to strike out a pure and copious
fountain in the heart, from which it might emanate-to strike off
those fetters by which the moral and sentient nature of man was
linked, as to all affection for the Godhead, in a kind of dull and
heavy imprisonment-and bid those feelings which had long been
pent and stifled in imprisonment there, go freely forth, both with
trust and with tenderness, to the Father from whom we had been
so sadly alienated. For this purpose a Mediator was appointed,
and the account now taken up and discharged by him, is no longer
against us-and for our sins, we are told, if we would only give
credit to the saving, we shall no more be reckoned with-and the
Deity reveals Himself in a new aspect of invitation to His creatures, and just that he may awaken the new affections of confidence and love in their before fearful and suspicious bosoms. We
cannot love God in the face of a debt uncancelled and of a sentence unrecalled, and of a threatening that is still in force against
us, and of mighty and majestic attributes all leagued for their own
vindication to the object of destroying us. But we can love God
when we are told, and we believe what is told of the ransom that
is paid, and of the sentence and the threatening being all already
spent on the agonies of another's endurance, and of His attributes
aroused to vengeance because of sin, now pacified because of a
sacrifice-so that mercy is free to send forth her beseeching calls,
and, emancipated from the claims of truth and justice, can now
abundantly rejoice over all the works and perfections of the Godhead. The cross of Jesus Christ is not merely the place of breaking forth into peace and reconciliation, but it is also the place of
breaking forth into the love and new obedience of a regenerated
nature. He who hath blotted out the handwriting of ordinances
that was against us, which was contrary to us, and took it out of
the way, nailing it to His cross-it is He who hath slain in our
hearts their enmity against God —and now that we can love God
because He first loved us, and sent His Son into the world to be
the propitiation for our sins —now, and now only, can we serve
Him in the newness of the spirit, and not in the oldness of the
letter.
It should be our aim then to keep our hearts in the love of God
-and this can only be done by keeping in memory the love that
He hath borne unto us. With this affection all alive in our bosoms,
and seeking how most to please and to gratify the Being whom it
regards-let us never forget that this is His will, even our sancti



294               CHRISTIAN S DAILY WALK.
fication: that like as He rejoiced at the birth of nature, when, on
the work being accomplished, He looked upon everything that
He had made, and saw in the beauty, and luxuriance, and variety,
which had just emerged from His hands, that all was very goodin like manner, and much more, does He rejoice in that new creation, by which moral loveliness, and harmony, and order, are
made to emerge out of the chaos of our present degeneracy. The
righteous Lord loveth righteousness, and the spectacle of our
worth and excellence is to Him a pleasing spectacle-and what
He wants is, to form and to multiply, by the regenerative power
of His Spirit, the specimens of a beauty far higher in kind than
all that can be exhibited on the face of visible nature: and our
truth and our charity, and our deep repentance for sin, and our
ceaseless aspirations after loftier degrees of purity and godlinessthese imprint so many additional features of gracefulness on that
spiritual creation over which the holiness of His character most
inclines Him to rejoice; and we knowing that this is the mind of
the Deity, and loving to gratify the Being whom we love, are
furnished with a principle of obedience, more generous, and far
more productive of the fruits of righteousness, than the legal principle, which only seeks to be square with the Lawgiver, and safe
from the thunders of His violated authority. There is no limitation
to such an obedience. The ever-urging principle of love to God
is sure at all times to stimulate and to extend it: and what with
a sense of delight to the work itself, and with the sense that God
whom we love delights in the work also and rejoices over it. is
there a newness of spirit given to obedience under the economy
of the Gospel, altogether diverse from the oldness of the letter,
which obtained under the economy of nature and of the law.
But, thirdly, there is nothing perhaps that will better illustrate
the distinction between service rendered in the newness of the
spirit, and service rendered in the oldness of the letter, than one
simple reflection upon what that is which is the great object of
the dispensation we sit under-to be made like unto God, like unto
Him in righteousness, and like unto Him in true holiness. Now
just think what the righteousness of God is like. Is it righteousness in submission to the authority of a law? Is it righteousness
painfully and laboriously wrought out, with a view to reward?
Is it righteousness in pursuit of any one pleasure or gratification
that is at all distinct from the pleasure which the Divinity has in
the very righteousness itself? Does not He desire righteousness
simply because He loves it? Is not He holy, just because holiness
is the native and kindred element of His Being? Do not all the
worth and all the moral excellence of the Godhead, come direct
from the original tendencies of His own moral nature? And
would either the dread of punishment or the hope of remuneration
be necessary to attach Him more than He already is, by the
spontaneous and unbidden propensities of His own character, to




CHRISTIAN S DAILY WALK.              295
that virtue which has been His glory from everlasting, and to that
ethereal purity in which He most delights to expatiate? It is not
at the beck of a governor-it is not with a view to prepare Himself for an appearance at some bar of jurisprudence-it is nothing
else in fact but the preference He bears for what is right, and the
hatred He holds for what is wrong-it is this, and this alone, which
determines to absolute and unerring rectitude all the purposes and
all the proceedings of the Deity. And to be like unto Him, that
which is a task when done under the oldness of the letter, must
be done in newness of spirit, and then will it be the very transport of our nature to be engaged in the doing of it. What is now
felt, we fear, by many as a bondage, would, were we formed
anew in the image of him who created us, become a blessedness.
The burden of our existence would turn into its beatitude-and
we, exempted from all those feelings of drudgery and dislike
which ever accompany a mere literal obedience, would prosecute
holiness with a sort of constitutional delight, and so evince that
God was assimilating us to Himself, that He was dwelling in us,
and that He was walking in us.
And the Christian disciple who is thus aspiring after that obedience, which while it fulfils the demands of the law in the letter,
is also rendered in newness of spirit, will find in the following
Treatise, " SCUDDER'S CHRISTIAN'S DAILY WALK IN HOLY SECURITY
AND PEACE," a valuable companion and counsellor to guide himin every condition of life, and under all the vicissitudes to which
life is subject-to instruct him how to prosecute his daily walk so
as to secure his peace, and to possess his soul in patience, in his
journey through life, and to render the circumstances of his lot,
whether prosperous or adverse, subservient to the still higher purpose of promoting his holiness and his growth in the divine life, to
fit him for the heavenly rest which awaits him at the close of his
earthly pilgrimage. In this Treatise, the Christian disciple will
learn to combine a service the most rigid in the letter, with those
principles of the renewed heart which render it at the same time
a delightful and an acceptable service. He will learn how to walk
with God, while engaged in the service of man. It is the production of a man who had reached to great attainments in the spiritual life, and whose wise and experimental counsels are well fitted
to guide him amidst the doubts and difficulties which may beset his
path in the Christian warfare. It has received the approving testimony of two of the most eminent Divines of a former age, Dr.
Owen and Richard Baxter, and we know of no work which better
merits the high commendation which these competent judges have
bestowed on it.
But without expatiating on the excellencies of a work, the value
of which can only be estimated by those who have devoted themselves to a serious perusal of its pages, we shall conclude with
two inferences from the prefatory observations with which we




296               CHRISTIAN'S DAILY WALK.
have introduced this Treatise to the notice of our readers. The
first is, that virtue, so far from being superseded by the Gospel, is
exalted thereby into a far nobler, and purer, and more disinterested attribute of the character than before. It becomes virtue,
refined from that taint of sordidness which formerly adhered to
it; prosecuted not from an impulse of selfishness, but from an impulse of generosity-followed after for its own sake, and because
of the loveliness of its native and essential charms, instead of
being followed after for the sake of that lucre wherewith it may
be conceived to bribe and to enrich its votaries. Legal virtue is
rendered in the spirit of a mercenary, who attaches himself to the
work of obedience for hire. Evangelical virtue is rendered in
the spirit of an amateur, who, in attaching himself to the work of
obedience, finds that he is already in the midst of those very delights, than which he cares for none other in time, and will care
for none other through eternity. The man who slaves at the employment to escape the penalty or to secure the pay, is diametrically the reverse of that man who is still more intensely devoted
to the employment than the other, but because he has devoted to
it the taste and the affections of his renovated nature. There is a
well of water struck out in his heart, which springeth up unto
spiritual life here, and unto everlasting life hereafter. There is an
angelic spirit which has descended upon him from above; and
which likens him to those beings of celestial nature, who serve
God, not from the authority of any law that is without, but from
the impulse of a love that is with.ln; whose whole heart is in the
work of obedience, and whose happiness is without alloy, just because their holiness is without a failing and without a flaw. The
Gospel does not expunge virtue; it only elevates its character,
and raises the virtue of earth on the same platform with the virtue of heaven. It causes it to be its own reward; and prefers
the disciples of Jesus Christ from the condition of hirelings who
serve in the spirit of bondage to the condition of heirs who serve
their reconciled Father in the spirit of adoption; who love what
He loves, and with a spirit kindred to His own, breathe in the
atmosphere which best suits them, when they breathe in the
atmosphere of holiness.
Our second inference is, that while the life of a Christian is a
life of progressive virtue, and of virtue, too, purified from the
jealousies and the sordidness of the legal spirit, still to be set on
such a career, we see how indispensable it is that we enter by
Christ, as by the alone gate of admission through which we can
reach the way of such a sanctification. How else can we get rid
of the oldness of the letter, we would ask?  How be delivered
from the fears and disquietudes of legality? How were it possible
to regard God in any other light than one whose very sacredness
made him the enemy of sinners, and so made him hateful to them?
We are bound over to distrust, and alienation, and impracticable




CHRISTIAN S DAILY WALK.               297
distance from God, till the tidings of the Gospel set us free.
There is a leaden and oppressive weight upon our spirits, under
which there can be no play of free, or grateful, or generous emotion towards the Father of them, till we hear with effect of the
peace-speaking blood, and of the charm and the power of the
great propitiation. Faith in Christ is not merely the starting-post
of our reconciliation with God; it is also the starting-post of that
new obedience which, unchilled by jealousy, and untainted by
dread or by selfishness, is the alone obedience that is at all acceptable. The heart cannot go freely out to God, while beset
with terror, while combined with the thoughts of a yet unsettled
controversy, while in full view of its own sinfulness, and still in
the dark about the way in which a Being of unspotted purity and
inflexible justice, can find out a right channel of conveyance for
the dispensation of His mercy-how he can be just, while the
Justifier of the ungodly. It is the cross of Christ that resolves all
these painful ambiguities. It is this which dissipates all these apprehensions. It is this which maintains, in sanctity unviolated,
the whole aspect and character of the Godhead; while there
beameth forth from it the kindest expression of welcome even on
the chief of sinners. Let that expression be but seen and understood, and then will that be to us a matter of experience which
we have tried, and tried so feebly, to set forth as a matter of
demonstration. Our bonds will be loosed. A thing of hopeless
drudgery, will be turned into a thing of heart-felt delight.  The
breath of a new spirit will animate our doings; and we will personally, and by actual feeling, ascertain the difference that there is
between the service of a Lawgiver pursuing us with exactions that
we cannot reach, and the service of a Friend, who has already
charmed us both into confidence and gratitude, and is cheering us
on through the manifold infirmities of our nature, to the resemblance
of himself in all that is kind, and upright, and heavenly, and holy.
It is only, we repeat it, through the knowledge of Christ and of him
crucified, that we can effect this transition from the one style of
obedience to the other style of obedience. It is only thus that we
become dead unto the law, and alive unto God. It is only thus
that we can serve him with all the energies of an emancipated
heart, now set at large from that despondency and deadness which
formerly congealed it. "I will run the way of thy commandments," says the Psalmist, "when thou hast enlarged my heart."
Make room in it for the doctrine of the cross, and this will enlarge
it. And, therefore, to sinners do we declare, that Christ is set
forth as a propitiation, and all who believe in him shall have the
benefit; and to believers do we declare, that God hath called
them not to uncleanness, but to holiness; that, naming the name
of Christ, their distinct business isto depart from all iniquity, and
to do the commandments, not because they can purchase admission to heaven by the doing of them, but because heaven is pur38




'298             CHRISTIAN S DAILY WALK.
chased for them already: and to be educated for heaven, they
must learn to do what is right-not that they can earn a title upon
God, but because God has been graciously pleased to confer this
title upon them; and now it is their part to do what is " wellpleasing in his sight-walking worthy of the Lord unto all pleasing-being fruitful in every good work-and giving thanks unto
the Father, who hath made them meet to be partakers of the inheritance of the saints in light."




INTRODUCTORY ESSAY
TO
TRACTS
BY THE REV. THOMAS SCOTT,
RECTOR OF ASTON SANDFORD.
THERE is no delusion more prevalent, or more difficult to dissipate firom the minds of men, than the imagined power which this
world possesses, to confer solid good or substantial enjoyment on
its votaries. Their life is one unceasing struggle for some object
which lies at a distance from them. Their path upon earth is an
attempted progress towards some attainment, which they conceive
to be placed at an onward point in the line of their futurity. They
are fighting their way to an arduous eminence of wealth or of distinction, or running with eager desire after some station of fancied
delight, or fancied repose, on this side of death. And it is the
part of religious wisdom, to mark the contrast which obtains between the activity of the pursuit in the ways of human business,
or human ambition, and the utter vanity of the termination-to
compute the many chances of disappointment —and, even when
the success has been most triumphant, to compare the vehemence
of the longing expectation with the heartlessness of the dull and
empty acquirement- to observe how, in the career of restless and
aspiring man, he is ever experiencing that to be tasteless, on
which, while beyond his reach, he had lavished his fcndest and
most devoted energies. When we thus see that the life of man
in the world is spent in vanity, and goes out in darkness, we may
say of all the wayward children of humanity, that they run as
uncertainly, and fight as one who beateth the air; or, to quote
another Bible declaration, " Surely man walketh in a vain show,
surely he vexeth himself in vain."
But these animadversions on that waste of strength and of exertion, which is incurred by the mere votaries of this world, are
not applicable merely to the pursuits of general humanity, they
are frequently no less applicable to our pursuits as Christians; and




300                   SCOTT S TRACTS.
even with eternity as an object, there is a way of so running, and
of so contending for it, as to make no advances towards it. A
man may be walking actively with this view, and yet not be
walking surely. A man may have entered into a strenuous combat for the rewards of immortality, and yet not obtain either the
triumphs or the fruits of victory. There may be a great expense
of movement, and of effort, and of diligence, and all for the good
of his soul; and yet the expense be utterly unproductive of that for
which his soul is anxiously putting forth the energies which belong
to it. He may be walking on a way of toilsome exertion, and yet
not be going on in his way rejoicing. A haunting sense of the vanity of all his labor, may darken and paralyze every footstep of his
attempted progress towards heaven, and make him utterly the
reverse of that Christian who is steadfast, and immovable, and
always abounding. The man can never be satisfied with his own
movements, who is not making sensible progress towards some
assigned object of desire; and should that be a blissful eternity,
there will adhere to him all the discomfort of running uncertainly,
so long as he is not getting perceptibly nearer to the fulfilment of
his wishes. It were lifting off the weight of a mountain from the
heart of many a laboring inquirer, could he be set on a sure place,
and a clear and ever brightening object be placed before him in
the march of his practical Christianity-could such a distinct aim
and bearing be assigned to him, as, with a full knowledge of the
purpose of all his doings, and a hope of the purpose being accomplished, he might, in whatever he did, do it with cheerfulness'and
vigor —could he be made to understand whither his labors are
tending, and for this end something precise, and definite, and intelligible, were at length to evolve itself out of the mists and the
mazes of human controversy-could all the wranglings of disputation be hushed, and, amid the din of conflicting opinions about
faith, and works, and the agency of man, and the sovereignty of
Godi, an authoritative voice were heard to lift the overbearing
utterance of "This is the way, walk ye in it"-could he be rescued from the indecisions of those who are ever learning, and
never able to arrive at the knowledge of the truth, —then, like
Paul. might he both be strong in orthodoxy, and strong in the
confidence and consistency of' his practical determinations. He
would not be, what we fear many professing Christians are, at a
loss how to turn themselves, and in the dire perplexity of those
who labor without an object and without an end.
There are three different states of activity in the prosecution of
our religious interests, to which we shall advert, all of which are
exemplified in human experience; and we shall attempt to point
out what is right and what is wrong in each of them.
The first state of activity is exemplified by those who seek to
establish a righteousness of their own; the second by those who
seek to be justified by faith; and the third by those who seek




SCOTT'S TRACTS.                  301
under Christ, as the accepted Mediator, to attain that holiness
without which no man can see God-to reach that character,
without which there is no congeniality with the joys or the exercises of heaven.
I. In the New Testament, the Jews are charged with a prevailing disposition to establish a righteousness of their own, but
this formed no local or national peculiarity on the part of the
Jewish people. It is the universal disposition of nature, and is as
plainly and prominently exemplified among professing Christians
of the day, as it ever was by the most zealous adherents of the
Mosaic ritual. It is true, that out of the multitude of its ceremonial observations, a goodly frame-work could be reared of outward
and apparent conformities to the will of God; and nothing more
natural than for man to enter into that which is the work of his
own hands, and then to feel himself as if placed in a tabernacle
of security. But there are other materials besides those of Judaism, which men can employ for raising a fabric of self-righteousness. Some of them as formal in their character as the Sabbaths
and the Sacraments of Christianity-others of them with the claim
of being more substantial in their character, as the relative duties
and proprieties of life,-but all of them proceeding on the same
presumption, that man can, by his own powers, work out a meritorious title to acceptance with God, and that he can so equalize
his doings with the demands of the law, as to make it incumbent
on the Lawgiver to confer on him the rewards and the favor
which are due to obedience.
Now it is worthy of remark, that though few are prepared to
assert this principle in all its extent, and though it even be disowned by them in profession, yet in practice and in feeling it
adheres to them. To the question, What shall I do to be saved?
it is the silent answer of many a heart, That there is something
which I can do, and by the doing of which I can achieve my salvation. A sense of his own sufficiency lurks in the bosom of man,
long after, by his lips, he has denied it; and it is a very possible
thing to be most steadfast in the arguments, and most strenuous in
the asseverations of orthodoxy, and yet practically to be so undisciplined by its lessons, as that the habit of the whole man shall be
in a state of real and effective resistance to them.
And thus it is, that, among the men of all creeds, and of all professions in Christianity, do we meet with the attempt of establishing a righteousness of their own. The question of our interest
with God is no sooner entertained by the human mind, than it appears to be one of the readiest and most natural of its movements
to do something for the object of working out such a righteousness. The question of, How  shall 1, from  being personally a
condemned sinner, become personally an approved and accepted
servant of God? no sooner enters the mind, than it is followed up
by the suggestion of such a personal change in habit or in char



302                   SCOTT'S TRACTS.
acter, as it is competent for man, by his own turning and his own
striving, to accomplish. The power of which I am consciousthe command with which I feel myself invested over both my
thoughts and my doings-the authoritative voice which the mind
can issue from the place of fancied sovereignty where it sits, and
from which it exacts both of the outer and the inner man an obe.
dience to all its inclinations,-these are what I constantly and familiarly press into my service; and I find that, in point of fact,
they are able to conduct me to many a practical attainment. Nor
is it to be wondered at, that when the attainment in question is
such a righteousness before God as may empower me to lift a plea
of desert in his hearing, the presumption should still adhere to me,
that this also I can achieve by my own strength-this also I shall
win, as the fruit of my own energies, and my own aspirations.
Now, what stamps an utter hopelessness upon such an enterprise as this, is both the actual deficiency of every man's conduct
firom the requirements of God's law, throughout that part of his
history which is past, and the deficiency, no less obvious, of every
man's powers from a full and equal obedience to the same requirements, during that part of his history which is to come.
Without entering into the abstract question of justice, whether the
rigor of a man's future conformities should make up for the offence
of his bygone disobedience, and deciding this question by the light
of nature or of conscience, certain it is, that no man, under the
revelation of the Gospel, can feel himself, even though he were on
a most prosperous career of advancing virtue, to be in a state
of ease in the sense of the guilt that has already been incurred,
and of the transgressions which have already been committed by
him. On this subject, there are certain texts of the Bible which
look hard upon him-certain solemn announcements about the immutability of the law, which cannot fail to disturb, and, it may be,
to paralyze him-certain damnatory clauses about the very least
act of iniquity, on which he, conscious of great and repeated acts
of iniquity, may well conclude himself to be a lost and irrecoverable sinner-certain mighty asseverations, on the part of God's
own Son, about the difficulty of annulling the sanctions of his Father's government, and that it were easier for heaven and earth to
pass away than for these to pass away, which may well fill the
heart of every conscious offender with the assurance, that his condemnation is as unfailing as the truth of God, and greatly more
unfailing than are the present ordinances of creation. These both
tell the enlightened sinnerthat his case is beyond the remedy even
of his most powerful exertions; and they also make exertions
which, in the spirit of hope and of confidence, might have been
powerful, weak as childhood, by the overwhelming influence of
despair. The man feels that the sentence which is already past,
lays the weight of an immovable interdict upon all his energies.
His interest with God looks to be irrecoverable, and any attempt




SCOTT'S TRACTS.                   303
to recover it is like the frantic exertions of a captive raving in
despair around the unpracticable walls of the dungeon which holds
him. While the handwriting of ordinances is still against him, and
not taken out of the way, it looks to him like the flaming sword at
the gate of Paradise, forbidding his every attempt to force the barrier of that blissful habitation. The man is in a state of spiritual
imprisonment, and he feels himself to be so. The menacing urgencies of the law may put him into a kind of convulsive activity,
while the unrelenting severity of the law leaves him not one particle of hope to gladden or to inspire it. Thus he runs without an
object, and struggles without even the anticipation of success.
The thing which makes the remembrance of the past shed a
blight so withering and so destructive over the attempted obedience of the future, is, that we cannot admit the truth of the matter into our understanding, without admitting, at the same time,
into our hearts, an apprehension which instantly stifles, or puts to
flight the alone principle of all acceptable obedience. The truth
of the matter is, that the promulgations of the law cannot be surrendered, without a surrender of the attributes of God, and thus it
is, that with every man who thinks truly, the consciousness of being
a sinner, brings along with it the fear of God as an avenger. And
it is impossible for sentient nature to love the Being whom it so
fears. It is impossible, at one and the same time, to have a dread
of God, and a delight in God. There may be love up to the height
of seraphic ecstasy, where there is the fear of reverence, but there
is no love in any one of its modifications, where there is the fear
of terror. Let God appear before the eye of our imagination, in
the light of a strong man, armed to destroy us, and if the only
obedience which our heart can render be love, then is our heart
put, by such an exhibition of the Deity, into a state of rebellion.
There may be physical, but there is no moral obedience. The
feet may be made to run, and the hands to move, and the tongue
to speak, or to be silent, and the whole organization of the body
may be squared into a rigorous adjustment, with a set of outward
and literal conformities, and yet the soul which animates that organization, be all in a fester with its known delinquencies against
the law, and its dark suspicious antipathies against the Lawgiver.
And thus it is, that let the present moment be the point of our
purposed reformation, not only may God charge us with the unexpiated guilt of all that goes before it, but, if we have a just and
enlightened retrospect of what we were, and an equally just and
enlightened conception of Him with whom we have to do, there
will be a taint of substantial worthlessness in all that comes after it.
That which stands so strong a bar in the way of reconciliation,
will just stand equally strong as a bar in the way of repentance.
The sense of God's hostility to us, will so provoke our fear and
our hostility towards Him, as to haunt, and utterly to vitiate the
whole character of our proposed and attempted obedience. When




304                   SCOTT S TRACTS.
the body, worn out by the drudgery of its painful and reluctant
observations, shall resign its ascending spirit to Him who sitteth
on the throne, he will not recognize upon it one lineament of that
generous and confiding affection, which gives all its worth to the
love and the loyalty of paradise. He will not discern one mark
of preparation for an inheritance in heaven, upon him who on
earth made many a weary struggle to attain it.
There are, it must be admitted, many who do not think truly
of the law; and who, not aware of its lofty demands, think they
do enough, when they maintain a complacent round of seemly,
but at the same time most inadequate observations-among whom
all is formality without, and all is repose and settledness withinwho pace, with unwearied step, the circle of ordinances, and are
just as regular in their attendance, as is the bell which summons
them to the house of prayer-who would feel discomfort out of
their routine, but have the most placid and immovable security
within it-and who, amid the engrossment of their many punctualities, have never thought of admitting into their bosoms one fear,
or one feeling, that can at all disturb them. These are running
uncertainly; but they are not harassed by any sense or suspicion
of it. They are only beating the air; but they are not fatigued
by the consciousness of its being a fruitless operation. They are
in a state of repose; but it is the repose of death. They have
accommodated their conduct to the established decencies of the
world; but the spirit of the world has never quitted its hold of
them. Their portion is on this side of the grave-their delights
are on this side of the grave-their all is on this side of the grave.
They go to church, and they sit down to the sacrament, and they
maintain within their houses a style of Sabbath observation; but
these are merely habits appended to the mechanical, and not to
the moral or spiritual part of their constitution. They may do all
this, and be strangers to the life of faith, to the exercise of devout
affection, to the habit of communion with God, as the living God;
to all those processes, in short, which mark and carry forward the
transformation of the soul, from its congeniality with the elements
of nature and of sense, to its congeniality with the elements of
spirit and of eternity. There may be a work of drudgery with
the hands, and with the doing of which, too, they are pleased and
satisfied, while there is no work of grace upon the heart. The
outer man may be in a state of incessant bodily exercise. The
inner man may be in a state of entire stagnancy. They do, in
fact, run uncertainly. They do, in fact, fight as he who beateth
the air. But they have no fear of coming short-no feeling to
imbitter the course of their religious activity; and without the
wakefulness of any alarm upon the subject, do they so contend as
to lose the mastery, do they so run as that they shall not obtain.
Now this is not the class that we have chiefly had in our eye.
The men to whom we principally allude, are those who run, but




SCOTT'S TRACTS.                   305
without nope, and without satisfaction —men who fight, but without any cheering anticipations of victory. They are seeking a
righteousness by works; and are, at the same time, disheartened
at every step, by the consciousness of no sensible advancement
towards it. Unlike the latter, they think more truly and more adequately of the law. The one class see it only in the light of a
carnal commandment. The others see it according to the character of its spiritual requirements. The one, without an enlightened sense of the law, are what the apostle represents himself to
have been when without the law, alive; even like all those religious formalists, who look forward to eternal life on the strength of
their manifold and religious observations. The others, with this
enlightened sense, are what the apostle represents himself to have
been after the law came, dead; or they feel all the helplessness
of death and of despair, even as he did, when, amid his strenuous
but unavailing struggles, he was forced to exclaim, "0 wretched
man that I am, who shall deliver me?" And thus it is, we believe,
with many whose hearts have at length been struck by a sense of
the importance of eternal things-who have begun to feel the
weight of their everlasting interests-who are sensible that all is
not right about them, and are seeking about for that movement of
transition, by which they may be carried forward from a state of
wrath to a state of acceptance-who, in obedience to the first
natural impulse, strive to amend what is wrong in conduct, and to
adopt what is right in conduct, but find, that after all their toil,
and all their carefulness, that relief is as far from them as everwho set up a new order in their lives, and propose to find their
way to peace on the stepping-stones of many and successive reformations, but find, that as they pile their offerings of obedience
the one upon the other, the law rises in its exactions; and what
with a claim of satisfaction for the past, and of spiritual obedience
for the future, it exhibits itself to their appalled imaginations, in
the dimensions of such a length, and a breadth, and a height, and
a depth, as they never can encircle —who, in the very proportion,
it may be, of their pains and their earnestness, are ever acquiring
more tremendous conceptions, both of the extent of its requisitions, and the terrors of its authority-who thus feel, that by
every trial of obedience, they are just multiplying their failures,
and swelling the account of guilt and of deficiency that is against
them-who feel themselves in the hopeless condition of men,
whose every attempt at extrication, just thickens the entanglements that are around them, and whose every effort of activity
fastens them the deeper in an abyss of helplessness. This is the
real process, we will not say of all. but of many a convert to the
light and power of the Gospel. This is the sure result with every
man who seeks to establish a righteousness of his own, if, along
with this attempt, he combines an adequate conception of the law
in the spirituality of its demands, of the law in the certainty of its
39




306                   SCOTT S TRACTS.
exactions. He feels urged, on the one hand, by its menacing and
authoritative voice, to do. He feels convicted, on the other, by a
sense of the guilt or inadequacy which attaches to all his doing.
He feels himself in the hand of a master issuing an impracticable
mandate, and lifting at the same time an arm of powerful displeasure, for all his past and all his present violations. He cannot sit
still under the power and frequency of the applications which are
now making to his awakened conscience. He flies for deliverance,
but it is like the flight of a desperado from his sure and unrelenting pursuers.
In the olden books of Scotland, and in that traditional history
which is handed down from the pious of one generation to another,
we meet with this very process not unaptly described under the
term of law-work. It is well delineated in the lives of Brainerd
and Halyburton. There is an intermediate period of darkness,
and despondency, and distress, in many an individual history, between the repose of nature's indifference, and the repose of Gospel
peace and Gospel anticipations. The mind, in these circumstances, is generally alive to two distinct things: first, to the truth and
immutable obligation of God's law; and, secondly, to the magnitude and irrecoverable evil of its own actual deficiencies. It is at
one time urged on by an impulse of natural conscience, to a set of
active measures for the recovery of its lost condition. It is at
another time mortified into a despairing sense, that all these measures are utterly fruitless and unavailing. And thus amid the agitations of doubt, and terror, and remorse; and sinking under the
weight of an oppressive gloom, which is ever deepening, and ever
aggravating around it, is it at length practically and experimentally convinced, by many a weary but unsuccessful struggle, that
in itself there is no strength; that the man who runs upon his own
energies, runs uncertainly; and that he who fights with his own
weapons, fights as one that beateth the air.
II. Having tried to seek a righteousness by works, and having
failed, the next trial of many an inquirer after peace, is, to seek a
righteousness by faith. And here we cannot but advert to the
prejudice of the general world against the doctrine of acceptance
through faith, as if it were a doctrine most loved, and most resorted to, by those who felt no value for the worth of moral accomplishments, and bestowed no labor on the cultivation of them.
We beg the attention of our readers to the contrast which obtains
between a very prevailing fancy upon this subject, and the fact, as
it stands experimentally before us. The fancy is, that those who
disclaim a justification by works, are those who take the least
pains in the doing of them. The fact is, that it was by their very
pains to be perfect and complete in the doing of them, that they
found this foundation to be impracticable; and, now that they are
upon another foundation, it is unto them, and not unto others, that
we look for works in their greatest abundance, for works in their




SCOTT'S TRACTS.                   307
greatest purity. The fancy is, that, by linking their whole security, not with the rewards of obedience, but with the grace of the
Gospel, these people have given up all business with the law.
The fact is, that, ever since they thought of religion at all, they
have been by far the busiest of all their fellows about the requisitions of the law. It was their schoolmaster, to bring them unto
Christ; and now that they are so brought, the keeping of the law
forms their daily and delightful occupation. It may well rank as
one of the curiosities of our nature, that they who are most hos.
tile to the doctrine of the efficacy of faith, because they think that
works of themselves are sufficient for salvation, are, in the real
and practical habit of their lives, most negligent in the performance of them; and, on the other hand, that they who are most
hostile to the doctrine of the efficacy of works, because they
think that it is by the power of faith that we are kept unto salvation, are the men who have most to show of those very works on
which they seem to stamp so slight an estimation. And, to complete this apparent mystery, they who impute nothing but licentiousness to orthodoxy, tolerate licentiousness only in those who
are the enemies, and never in those who are the professors of itlook upon the alliance between vice and evangelical sentiment to
be a far more monstrous and unlikely alliance than that which
often obtains between vice and an irreligious contempt for all the
peculiarities of our faith-reproach the doctrine of the Gospel for
its immoral tendencies, and yet, for every flaw in the morality of
its disciples, will they lift the reproachful cry of their lives and
their opinions being in a state of disgraceful and hypocritical variance with each other: proving, after all, that the men who build
their security most upon faith, are the men to whom even the
world looks for most in the way of practical righteousness; are
the men whose delinquencies are ever sure to raise the loudest
murmurs of wrath or of astonishment from by-standers; are the
men over whom satire feels herself to have the greatest advantage, when by any peccadillo of conduct, they furnish her with a
topic, either of merriment or severity. And what else can we
make of all these inconsistencies, than that there is a deep and
prevailing misconception about the real character of the evangelical system? and that, while there has been imputed to it a cold
and repulsive aspect towards virtue, their lies veiled under this a
powerful and a working principle, from which even the public at
large expect a more abundant return than they do from any other
quarter of human society, of all the graces and all the accomplishments of virtue?
There is a change in the direction of our mind, when, from the
object of being justified by works, it turns itself to the new object
of being justified by faith. It is then only that it puts itself in
quest of the only justification which is possible; and yet, when
thus employed, there is still a way of running uncertainly. For,




308                    SCOTT S TRACTS.
first, as virtue is a thing which attaches personally to him who
performs it, so is faith a thing which attaches personally to him
who possesses it. The one has just as local a residence within
the mind, as the other. To have kind affection, and to have it not,
argues a difference in the state of one's heart; and to have faith, or
to have it not, argues just as effectually a difference in the state of
one's understanding. To believe is to do that which we ought. To
disbelieve, is to do that which we ought not. And firther, we are
expressly told in the Gospel, that, with the right thing about us, there
is linked our inheritance in heaven; and with the wrong thing about
us, there is linked our everlasting consignment to hell. Here then
is faith, like virtue, a personal acquirement; the possession of which
is a right thing, and the want of which is a wrong thing.  With
such a statement before us, there is nothing more natural, than that
we should look upon faith as standing in the same place, under the
dispensation of the Gospel, that obedience did, under the dispensation of' the Law; that we should set about the acquirement of the
one very much in the way in which we set about the acquirement
of the other; that we should put ourselves to work with the terms
of the new covenant, just as we had been in the habit of working
with the terms of the old covenant; strive to render our half of'
the bargain, which is faith, and then look to God for His half of
the bargain, which is our final and everlasting salvation.
Under the economy of "Do this and live," the great point of
anxiety with him who is laboring for the good of his soul, is, "O
that I had obedience!" Under the economy of " Believe, and ye
shall be saved," the great point of anxiety with him who is laboring for the good of his soul, is, " O that I had faith!" There is,
in both cases, an earnestness, and perhaps a striving after the acquirement of a certain property of character. The only difference between the two cases, lies in the kind of property.  But,
just as the mind may put forth a strenuousness in its attempt to
realize the grace of temperance, or in its attempt to realize the
grace of patience; so may the mind put forth a strenuousness in
its attempt to realize the grace of faith; and, with the success of
this endeavor, may it connect the prize of a happy eternity, and
be virtually in the same attitude of laboring to substantiate a claim
under the Gospel, as it formerly was under the law. So that, in
fact, the old legal spirit may be as fully at work with the new requirements, as ever it was with the old ones. The prospect of
bliss may still be made to turn as much as before upon a performance. The only change is in the terms of the performance. But,
in point of fact, men may make a work of faith. They may offer
it to heaven, as their part of a new contract into which God has
entered with the guilty. Faith and reward may stand related to
each other, as the corresponding terms of a stipulation, in the
same way that obedience and reward did. The favor of God,
instead of being seen as a gift held out for our acceptance,




SCOTT S TRACTS.                    309
may still be seen as a thing to be gained by a mental work, done
with the putting forth of mental energies. In the doing of this work,
there may be felt all the darkness, and all the anxiety, and all the
spirit of bondage, which attached to the work of the old covenant.
And thus it is that there are many, with the doctrine of the Gospel
in their minds, and the phraseology of the Gospel on their lips, upon
whom the grace of the Gospel is utterly thrown away, and who, as
if still goaded on by the threats and exactions of the law, continue
to run as uncertainly, and to fight even as one who beateth the air.
Now, it is evident, that in this way the Gospel may be so misconceived, as to have no right or appropriate influence whatever
on the mind of an inquirer. If salvation, instead of being looked
to, as by grace through faith, be looked to, as by faith, in the light
of a rendered condition on the part of man, upon which he may
challenge a certain stipulated fulfilment on the part of God,-then,
all the distance, and suspicion, and unsatisfied longings, by which
he felt himself to be harassed and enfeebled, when attempting to
work and to win under the old economy, may still attend him, as
he tries to work and to win, under the new.  With his mind
thus unfortunately set, he may still regard God in the light of
a jealous exactor, and himself in the light of a lacking tributary.  He may still be looking to the condition of his faith,
and trembling at the defects of it; just as, before he attended to
the Gospel, he looked to the condition of his obedience, and trembled at the defects of it. It may still, in his eye, retain the whole
spirit and character of a negotiation between two parties; and all
the uncertainty of whether with him, as one of these parties, there
has been a failure or a fulfilment, may still adhere, to agitate and
to disturb him. At this rate, the Gospel ceases, in fact, to be Gospel. It loses its character in his eye, as a dispensation of mercy.
The exhibition it offers, is not that of God holding out a benefit,
in the shape of a gift, for our acceptance; but of God holding out
a benefit, in the shape of a return for our faith.  So that, ere we
can look with a sentiment of hopeful confidence towards him, we
must first look with a feeling of satisfaction to ourselves. Now,
this is not the way in other cases of a gift. Should a friend come
into my presence with some dispensation of kindness, it is enough
to put the whole joy of it into my heart, that I hear his assurances
of good-will, that I behold his countenance of benignity, and that
I see the offered boon held out to me for acceptance. It is true,
that I would neither feel the charm of all this liberality, nor attempt to lay hold of what it offers, unless I gave credit to the
offerer.  But then, I am not thinking of this credit.  I am not
perplexing myself with any question about its reality.  I am not
first looking to myself, that I may see whether the belief is thereand then looking to the giver, that I may stretch forth a receiving
hand to the fruit of his generosity. I am looking all the while to
that which is without me; and it is from that which is without




310                    SCOTT S TRACTS.
me, that all the influences of hope and of gratitude, and the pleasure of a felt deliverance from poverty, descend upon my soul. It
is very true. that, unless I gave credit to my visitor, nothing of all
this would be felt; and I may even carry my unbelief so far as to
think that the offer was intended, not to relieve, but to affront me;
and that, were I extending my hand to receive it, it would instantly be drawn back again in derision, by my insulting acquaintance. So that, without faith, I cannot obtain the benefit in question. But it is not to faith as an article in the agreement-it is
not to faith as a meritorious service-it is not to faith as the term
of a bargain, that the benefit is rendered. Faith acts no other
part in this matter, than the mere opening of the hand does in the
matter of putting into it a sum of money. It does not affect the
character of the Gospel, as being a pure matter of giving on the
one side, and of receiving on the other. And it is when we look
to God in the light of a Giver —it is when we look to Him holding
out a present, and beseeching our acceptance-it is when we look
to Him setting forth Christ to the world as a propitiation for sin,
and setting Him forth as effectually to us, as if there were no
other sinner in the world but ourselves-it is when the outgoings
of the mind's regard are thus turned towards the God who is
above us, and the promises and declarations which are without
us-and not when the mind is looking anxiously inward upon the
operations of its own principles —it is then, and only then, that the
sinner is in the attitude of a likely subject for the Gospel, and for
the reception of all its influences.
It has been well observed, that the mind is often put into disquietude, by looking to the act of faith, when it might derive to
itself peace, and comfort, and joy, by looking to the object of faith.
In the latter case, one turns to the mercy of God in Christ freely
held out to him; in the former case, he turns his eye towards one
of his own mental operations. While doing the one, a pure and
unclouded hilarity might emanate upon the heart, from the countenance of the all-perfect Creator; —while doing the other, this
light is but reflected back again in dimness and deficiency, from
the work of a sinful and imperfect creature. The one is like taking in from the sun in the firmament a flood of direct and unmitigated splendor; the other is like taking in a sullied and confused
image of him, thrown back on the spectator from the surface of
a foul and troubled water. Let him see God just in the way in
which God is soliciting the notice of the guilty towards Him —let
him look unto Christ, even as Christ is actually set forth to the
view of the world —let him direct his upward gaze to that spiritual canopy of light and of truth which is above him-and, from
these, through the medium of faith, there will descend upon his
soul, that which can clear, and elevate, and transform it. But instead of so looking, and so sending forth the eye of his contemplation, let him turn it with minute and microscopic search towards




SCOTT S TRACTS.                  311
this medium-let his attention be pointed inwardly, towards the
nature and quality of his faith, and the danger is, that he loses
sight of the very things which furnish faith with the only materials for its exercise. He may seek in vain for the operation of
faith, and that, just because the objects of faith are withdrawn
from it. He may seek with much labor and anxiety for what he
cannot find, because, when the things to be looked for have taken
their departure from the mind's eye, the exercise of looking has
ceased. Instead of the outgoings of his belief being towards the
beseeching God, and the dying Saviour, and all the evidences and
expressions of good-will to men, with which the doctrine of man's
redemption is associated, he has bent an anxious examination
towards the state of that condition in which he conceives the
offered mercy of the Gospel to turn; and amid his doubts of its
existence, or his doubts of its entireness, does he remain without
comfort and without satisfaction about his eternity.
It is true, that without faith the mind is'in darkness. But faith
enlightens a dark mind, only in the sense in which an open window enlightens a before darkened chamber. It is not the window
which enlightens the room. It is the sun which enlightens it.
And should we, sitting in our chamber, be given to understand
that a sight of the sun carries some delight or privilege along with
it, it is not to the window that we look, but to the sun and through
the window that we look. And the same of looking to Jesus.
While so doing, our direct employment is to consider Him-to
think of the truth and the grace that are stamped upon His character-to hear His promises, and to witness the honesty and the
good-will which accompany the utterance of them-to dwell on
the power of his death, and on the unquestionable pledge which it
affords, that upon the business of our redemption He is in good
earnest-to cast our regard on His unchangeable priesthood, and
see, that by standing between God and the guilty, He has opened
a way by which the approach of the most worthless of us all have
been consecrated and rendered acceptable. It is by the direct
beaming of light upon the soul, from such truths and such objects
as these, that the soul passes out from its old state into a new state
that is marvellous. Anything that can arrest or avert the eye of
contemplation away from them, is like the passing of a cloud over
the great luminary of all our comfort, and our spiritual manifestation. If, instead of looking to the object that is without us, from
which the light proceedeth, we look only to the organ within us,
through which the light passeth; we, while so employed, are as
little looking unto Jesus, as he is looking to the sun in the firmament, all whose powers are absorbed in examining the composition of the glass of his window, or the anatomical construction of
his eye. The songs, and the offers of deliverance, are altogether
unheeded by him who is profoundly intent, at the time, on the
phenomena of hearing. The beauties of the surrounding land



312                   SCOTT S TRACTS.
scape may scarcely be perceived, or, at least, not be relished and
admired by the observer, so long as all his faculties are busily engaged with an optical demonstration. And the proclamations of
Gospel mercy are equally unheard, and its aspect of glad and
generous invitation is equally disregarded by him, who, rumirrating on the mysteries of his own heart, perplexes himself among
the depths and the difficulties of faith.
It is known to anatomists, that to have a view of the objects of
surrounding nature, the image of all that is visible must be drawn
out on the retina of the eye. But the peasant, who knows not
that he has a retina, has just as vivid a perception of these objects,
as the philosopher had who first discovered the existence of it.
And, in like manner, a babe in Christ might have a lively manifestation of the Saviour, who knows nothing of the metaphysics
of faith-who is in utter darkness about all the controversies to
which it has given birth —who sees with his mental eye, while in
the profoundest ignorance about the construction of his mental eye
-who cannot dive into the recesses of his own intellectual constitution, but, by the working of that constitution, has caught a spiritual discernment of Him, whom to see and to know is life everlasting.
-" Father, I thank thee, that whilst thou hast hid these things from
the wise and the prudent, thou hast revealed them unto babes."
There is not a readier way of running uncertainly, than strenuously to put forth effort in a matter over which the will has no
control: and this is often done by those, who, in their anxious desire to get that faith on which salvation is made to turn, try, with
all their might and all their diligence, to believe. Now this is what
we never can do separately from evidence. To carry the conviction of the understanding, without proof addressed to the understanding, is impossible. If we are out of the way of meeting
with the evidence of the truth, we never will attain a belief of the
truth. It is no doubt possible, by the mere dint of mental exertion, to conceive what a doctrine is, and to retain that doctrine in
our mind, and to recall it when it happens to be away from us:
but it is not possible, without a satisfying evidence of the doctrine,
actually to believe in it. Here then is a way in which we may
incur the expense of effort, and the effort be altogether unavailing.
We may be trying to believe, while we are looking the wrong
way for it. It is not merely by poring over the lineaments of our
own heart-it is not by witnessing the deficiencies of our faith,
and still looking, and continuing to look to the place of these deficiencies-it is not by the reflection of evidences from within,
while every avenue is closed of communication from without, that
light first arises in the midst of darkness. To obtain any such reflection, a beam of manifestation must be admitted from without,
making it the entrance of the word of God which gives light unto
us and the Spirit of God shining upon His testimony, which causes
the demonstration of it to come with power, and with assurance,




SCOTT'S TRACTS.                  313
upon him who is giving earnest heed to the word of that testimony. So that, on the other hand, there is a way in which the
will may be rightly and profitably employed in the matters of believing. There is a way in which the advice, of try to believe, is
applicable, and may be successfully carried into effect. It is by
our will that we open the pages of the Bible. It is by our will
that we stir up our minds to lay hold of Him who speaketh there.
It is by our will that we fulfil fis own precept of hearkening diligently. It is by our will that we keep ourselves at the assigned
post of meeting between us and the Holy Ghost; and as the apostles did before us, wait for His coming with supplication and
prayer. But it is in the act of attending to the word which is
without us, that light finds access to our heart. If ever it fall upon
us at all, this is the way in which it will come; and, if we are not
widely mistaken, we utter an advice which is applicable to the
case of at least some dark and disconsolate inquirers, when we
say, that instead of fetching their peace and their joy in believing
primarily from themselves, they should fetch it from  the truths
which are without them, and from the great Fountain of Truth
and of Grace that is above them. Acquaint thyself with thy
Creator, and be at peace, and go unto Christ, all ye who labor and
are heavv laden, and He will give you rest.
Thus will we find the righteousness that we are in quest of.
Thus will we meet a plea of acceptance already made out for
us, and be given to perceive that the only obedience in which
God can consistently with the honors of His government admit
us into His favor, is an obedience which has been already rendered.
If we commit ourselves to this with a perfect feeling of security, as
the ground of our dependence, it will never, never give way under
us. He who trusteth in Christ shall never be confounded or put to
shame. The righteousness which we vainly strive to make out
in our own person, is worthless as pollution itself, when put by the
side of that righteousness which has been already made out in the
person of another; a righteousness, all the claims of which, and
all the rewards of which, are offered to us; a righteousness, which,
if we will only humble ourselves to put on, shall translate us into
instant reconciliation with God, and, at length, exalt us to a place
of unfadingglory. Look then unto Jesus. Consider Him who is
the Apostle and the High Priest of our profession. We should
cast our open and immediate regard upon Him who is evidently
set forth crucified before us. And as it was in the act not of looking to their wounds, but in the act of looking to the brazen serpent, that the children of Israel were healed, even so is the Son
of man lifted up, "that whosoever believeth in Him should not
perish but have everlasting life."
III. We have already attempted to prove, that the man who
seeketh a righteousness by works, seeks it in a way which must
land him in vanity and disappointment, and that he alone has at40




314                   SCOTT S TRACTS.
tained the position with which he may take up and be satisfied,
who has found the righteousness that is by faith. He alone who
has accepted of the Gospel offer, and puts his trust in its faithfulness, knows what it is to set himself down under a secure and unfailing canopy; and to delight himself greatly with the abundance
of peace which he there enjoys. It cannot be adequately conceived by those who have never felt it; and therefore it is, that
when a man looks to the offer of that righteousness which is unto
all, and upon all who believe, as addressed to himself, -and when,
treating it accordingly, he makes it the subject of his actual accep.
tance, along with the faith which has taken possession of him,then enters the peace of God in Christ Jesus, which passes all understanding. When, weaned from every other dependence, he
has at length learned to leave the whole weight both of his plea
and of his expectation upon the Saviour, it is not easy to form an
adequate thought of the change which then takes place upon his
condition; how, by so doing, the whole deadness and heaviness
of his soul are cleared away; how, as if loosed from a confinement in which it hath lain past from infancy, it breaks out into
free and fearless intercourse with that God before whom it trembled; or away from whom all its thoughts and all its desires lay
hid in carnal insensibility. They who never felt of faith in any
other way than as a mere unmeaning or cabalistic utterance, and
are strangers to the term as fixed and substantiated in experimental reality, on a positive operation of the soul, perceive not the
magnitude nor the glory of that transition which it causeth the
soul to undergo. They know not the import of being made alive
thereby unto God. But there are some who, though destitute in
fact of this faith, may have some obscure fancy of what the effect
must be, when the Being, with whom all power and all immensity
stand associated, enters into a new relation with one of his own
creatures, altogether opposite to that in which he stood before;
and. instead of an enemy whom one fears, or a master whom one
dislikes, or a dark and distant personage, from whom one has lived
all his days in utter estrangement, he draws near to the eye of the
inner man in the living character of a friend, and admits us into
the number of his children, through the faith that is in Christ Jesus, and pours the spirit of adoption upon us. So that, unburdened
of guilt and of suspicion, we may come unto God with full assurance of heart, as we would do to a reconciled father. When such
terms as these, from being felt as sounds of mystery, come to be
imbodied in actual fulfilment, and to be invested with the meaning of felt and present realities; then does the inquirer find within
himself, that to become a partaker of the faith of the New Testament, is indeed to pass out of darkness into a light that is marvellous. The one and simple circumstance of being now able to go
out and in with confidence unto God, opens the door of his prisonhouse, and sets him at liberty. And let us not wonder, that, with




SCOTT S TRACTS.                  315
the new hope which is thus made to dawn upon his heart, a new
feeling enters along with it, and a new affection now comes to inspire it. Who can say, in short, that the entrance of the faith of
the Gospel is not the turning point of a new character, that that is
not the moment of all old things being done away, from which the
man began to breathe in another moral atmosphere, and to conceive purposes, and to adopt practices, suited to another field of
contemplation now placed before him? And thus, by the single
act of believing-by giving credit to the word of God's testimony,
when he holds himself forth to us as God in Christ, reconciling
the world unto himself, and not imputing unto them their trespasses,-by conceiving of Christ, that He gives an honest account of
the errand on which He came, when He says, that He " came not
to condemn the world, but to save it,"-by conceding the honor
of truth to Him who is the Author of the Bible, and so believing
just as it is there spoken,-a course is set into operation, competent to the effect of an entire revolution, both in the prospect and
in the moral state of him who is influenced by it,-translating him
fromr a state of darkness, or a state of dismay, to peace, and joy,
and spiritual life, impressing a new character upon his heart, and
turning into a new course of joy the whole of his habits and of his
history.
Now, it is in the prosecution of this course-a course not of legal, but of evangelical obedience  a course in which, instead of
winning the favor of God as the result of it, we are upheld by the
favor of God freely conferred upon us in Christ Jesus, firom the
commencement and through the whole process of it,-a course,
in which we walk with God as two walk together who are agreed,
instead of walking with Him as if dragged reluctantly along by a
force which it were even death to bring down in wrath and in hostility against us, —a course which we prosecute with the will, now
gained over by gratitude, and touched by the love of moral and
spiritual excellence, and enlightened in the great and final object
of salvation, which is to prepare us for the kingdom of God in
heaven, by setting up the kingdom of God in our hearts, even
righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost,-a course,
the distinct object of which is to transform the character of man
from its selfishness and its ungodliness, and not so much to surround him with celestial glories, as to give to him the worth, and
the feelings, and the principles of a celestial mind.
Now, it often happens, that long after a formal admission has
been given to the. doctrines of the Gospel, the mind may practically be far from being in a state of adjustment with a course of
obedience, prosecuted in such a spirit, and with such an object
as we have now been describing. There may be a course of
very strenuous performance; but the old legal spirit may be yet
unquelled, and the mind of the inquirer be still weighed down under a sense of hopeless and inextricable bondage. There may, at




316                   SCOTT S TRACTS.
the same time, be a speculative conviction of the vanity of good
works; and many a weary attempt be made to raise up faith with
a set of qualifications, which are destitute, in themselves, of all
power and of all sufficiency to propitiate the favor of God. It,
however, cannot be disguised, that works, in some shape or other,
are as strenuously called for under the latter, as under the former
dispensation; and we speak of an actual state of ambiguity on this
subject, in which many have been involved, and where many have
lingered for years in great helplessness and distress, when we say,
that, unable to attain a clear and satisfactory perception of the
way in which faith and works stand related to salvation, they have
toiled without an object, and labored to get onwards without coming sensibly nearer to any landing-place. There is a want of
drift in their manifold doings.  They are at one time fearful of
being in the wrong, when they attempt to multiply their conformities to the divine law; learning so moch from one class of theologians of the vanity of works, and the danger of self-righteousness. They are, at another time, impelied to action by a vague
and general sense of the importance of works; learning from the
Bible, and even from these very theologians, that works, brought
down to utter insignificance at one part of the doctrinal argument,
reappear at a future part of it, vested with a real importance in
the matter of salvation. And thus do they vacillate in darkness,
between a kind of general urgency to do upon the one hand; and,
on the other, a kind of indistinct impression that, as a Christian,
his business is not to do, but to believe. And so there is either a
halting of the mind, or an unceasing vibration of the mind, between two opinions; neither of' which, at the same time, is very
distinctly apprehended. The Christian who is steadfast and immovable, and always abounding in the work of the Lord, knows
that his labor in the Lord is not in vain. Now he does not know
this. He has been schooled, by an ill-conceived orthodoxy, into a
suspicion of the worth and efficacy of all labor, and so is haunted
and harassed by the imagination, that all his labor is in vain. The
perplexity thickens around him, among the uncertain sounds of a
trumpet coming to his ear, with what to him are dark and contradictory intimations; and we are not drawing a fanciful representation, but offering a faithful copy of what is often realized in human experience, when we say, that there are many inquirers, who,
thus lost and bewildered in the midst of difficulties, embark in a
race that is at once fatiguing and fruitless, and engage in a painful service, which they afterwards experience to be utterly unproductive.
The life and experience of the REV. THOMAS SCOTT, the Author
of the excellent Tracts which compose the present volume, afford
a striking exemplification of the different states of activity in the
prosecution of a religious life, which we have endeavored to illustrate. He was long perplexed and bewildered amidst the errors




SCOTT S TRACTS.                   317
which wve have been exposing, and made many vain and fruitless
attempts to attain to peace, by endeavoring to establish a righteousness of his own, and it was not till humbled under a sense of
the vanity and fruitlessness of all such attempts, that he took refuge
in the all-sufficient righteousness of Christ, and found that peace
he was so earnestly in quest of. In his " Force of Truth," he gives
an honest and faithful delineation of the severe and protracted
conflict he sustained, ere he found himself established on the sure
foundation of the righteousness which is by faith. He experimentally found, that such an obedience as man can render, must be
an obedience without hope, and without affection, and without one
element which can liken it to the obedience of heaven —that the
mere animal drudgery, to which a man feels himself impelled, by
the impulse of force, or of fear, upon his corporeal powers, bears
not only a different, but an essentially opposite, character, to that
of an acceptable loyalty. He found that it is no religion at all,
unless the heart consent to it, and the taste be engaged on its side,
and the love which terror scares away, be the urging and inspiring principle; and the Lawgiver, instead of laying a reluctant
constraint upon His creatures, sits enthroned in far more glorious
supremacy over their will, thus exalting the service of God, from
what it must be under the law, to what it may be under the Gospel. But when the Gospel came to him, in all the power and beneficence of conversion and grace, transforming the service of
God from the oldness of the letter to the newness of the spirit, by
listing, on the side of godliness, all the faculties and affections of
his moral nature, he became the humble, devoted, and self-denying
Christian; and admirably illustrated the sure operation of genuine
faith, in producing practical righteousness, and in forming those
who are under its influence, in all the virtues and accomplishments
of Christianity. Mr. SCOTT Was an eminently useful minister of
the Gospel. His sound, judicious, and practical writings, form a
most valuable accession to the theology of our country. The lessons of such a life, and such an experience as he has honestly delineated, are highly instructive to every class of Christians, but, to
the sincere inquirer after truth, we would especially recommend
them; and, under such convictions as the "Force of Truth" may
produce, he will find in the subsequent Tracts, which compose the
present volume, an excellent and practical exposition of those
more peculiar doctrines of the Gospel, the right understanding of
which is so necessary to the attainment of peace and of holiness;
and these expositions will derive a peculiar weight and importance,
as coming from such a sound and experimental Christian.




INTRODUCTORY ESSAY
TO
PRIVATE THOUGHTS ON RELIGION
AND
A CHRISTIAN LIFE.
3Y WILLIAM  BEVERIDGE, D.D.
THERE is a passage in the New Testament, where the law is
made to stand to the sinner in the relation of a first husband;
and on this relation being dissolved, which it is at the moment
when the sinner becomes a believer, then Christ stands to him in
the relation of a second husband; under which new relation, he
brings forth fruit unto God, or, to use the expression of the apostle,
" lives unto God." There is another passage from which we can
gather, what indeed is abundantly manifest from the whole of
Scripture, that to live unto God is in every way tantamount to
living unto Christ —it being there represented as the general habit
of believers, " to live no longer unto themselves, but unto Him who
died for them and rose again." So that though there be no single
quotation, where the two phrases are brought together, still it is a
sound, because truly a scriptural representation of the state of a
believer, that he is dead unto the law, and alive unto Christ.
Now we are sensible, that these, and similar phrases, have been
understood in two meanings, which, though not opposite, are at
least wholly distinct from each other; that is, either as expressive
of the judicial state, or the personal character of a believer. By
one's judicial state, we mean that state into which he is put by the
judgment or sentence of a law.  If the law, for example, condemn us, we are judicially, by that law, in a state of condemnation. This may be viewed distinctly from our personal character.
Now the first meaning of the phrases, or that by which they are
expressive of a judicial state, would be more accurately rendered,
by slightly changing each of the phrases, into " dead by the law,"
and " alive by Christ." Whereas the " being dead unto the law,"
and " alive unto Christ," serve, without any change, accurately to




BEVERIDGE S PRIVATE THOUGHTS.            319
express the second meaning, or that which is descriptive of the
personal character of those to whom it is applied. There is no
liberty used with the Bible, when we affirm, that whether the one
or other of these meanings be indeed the meaning in any particular
case, the doctrine involved in each is true and scriptural doctrine
-that, in the first instance, every believer is dead by the law, and
alive by Christ; and that, in the second instance, he is dead unto
the law, and alive unto Christ,-or, in other words, that in whomsoever the former truth has been realized, the latter truth shall be
realized also.
Every believer, and indeed every man is dead by the law.
This is naturally the judicial state of all. The law issued its commandments, and made death the penalty of their violation. We
have all incurred that penalty. It demanded not any given fraction of obedience, but a whole obedience-and this we have all
come short of. We have at least incurred the sentence; and if
the execution of it has not yet been fully inflicted, it is at least in
sure reserve for those on whom it is to fall. They are like malefactors in custody. Their doom is awaiting them. They are not
yet dead in reality, but they are dead in law. They have the
dread prospect of the reality before them; and if they have nought
but the law to deal with, they may well tremble or be in despair,
as the prisoners of a hopeless condemnation.
The greater part of men are at ease, even amid the urgencies
of a state so alarming. That they have broken the law of God
gives them no concern; and their life passes as carelessly along,
as if the future reckoning, and future vengeance, were all a fable.
So cheap do they hold the high jurisprudence of Heaven, that they
are scarcely conscious of having offended against it; or if ever
visited with the suspicion that their obedience is not up to the lofty
standard of God's commandments, they compound the matter in
another way, and bring down the commandments of God to the
lowly standard of their own obedience. God hath revealed Himself to the world, under the impressive character of a God who
is not to be mocked-yet would they inflict upon Him most degrading mockery, by robbing every proclamation of His against
the transgressors of the law of all effect and all significancy. If
there be any dignity in Heaven's throne, or any truth, and power,
and force of character in Him who sitteth thereon, His ordinations
must stand fast, and His penalties, by which their authority is
guarded, must have fulfilment. The government of the Supreme
would be despoiled of all its majesty, if mercy were ever at hand
to obliterate the guilt of our rebellion against it. The carnal heart
of man may be proof against these demonstrations of guilt and of
danger; yet, notwithstanding, it is true that we have incurred the
debt, and come under the denunciations of a law, whereof it has
been said, that heaven and earth must pass away ere one jot or
one tittle of it shall fail.




320            BEVERIDGE S PRIVATE THOUGHTS.
This is the appalling condition of humanity, however seldom it
may be adverted to, and however slightly it may be felt, in the
listlessness of nature. To the great majority of men, all secure
and unconscious as they are, it gives no disturbance. They are
so much hurried with the manifold relations in which they stand
to the things and the interests that are around them, that they
overlook their great relation to God the Lawgiver, and to that
law, all whose mandates have a force and a sanction that cannot
be recalled. They are asleep to the awful realities of their state.
They have trampled upon an authority which must be vindicated. They have incurred a threatening which must be discharged. They have insulted a throne whose dignity must be
asserted-and cast contempt on a government, which shall rise in
its might and its majesty from the degradation which they have
tried to inflict upon it. The high attributes of the Divinity are
against them. His Justice demands a satisfaction. His Holiness
cannot but manifest the force of its recoil from moral evil. His
word stands committed to the death and the destruction of sinners
-and a nature so immutable as His, never can recede from those
great principles which mark the character of His administration.
The greater part of men escape from all this terror, while they
live in mere insensibility; and some there are, who, because less
enormous transgressors than their fellows, can lull their every apprehension, and be at ease. But the law will admit of no compromise. It will treat with no degree or modification of evil.
They have broken some of the things contained in the book of
God's law, and by the law they are dead.
The most exempt, perhaps, from all disquietude on the score of
that death to which the law has condemned them, are they who,
decorous in all the proprieties, and honorable in all the equities,
and alive, by the tenderness of a softened, sympathetic nature, to
all the kindnesses of life, stand the freest from all those visible delinquencies by which the law is most notoriously and most disgracefully violated. They lie not-they steal not-they defraud
not. They are ever prompt in humanity, and most punctual in
justice. They acquit themselves of every relative duty to the
satisfaction of those who are the objects of it; and exemplary in
all the moralities of our social state, they sustain upon earth a high
and honorable reputation. Nevertheless it is possible, nay it is frequent, that a man may be signalized by all these graces of character, and yet be devoid of godliness. The first and greatest
commandment, which is the love of God, may be the object, not
of his occasional, but of his constant and habitual disobedience.
In reference to this part of the law, he may have not merely fallen
into many sinful acts, but more desperate still, he may be in a continual state of sinfulness. Instead of offending God at some times
by the deeds of his hand, he may be offending him at all times,
by that settled and invariable bent which there is in the desires




BEVERIDGE S PRIVATE THOUGHTS.           321
of his heart. That bent may be wholly towards the world, and
wholly away from him who made the world. He may have a
thousand constitutional virtues: to use a familiar expression, he
may have many good points or properties of character, and yet
God not be in all his thoughts. His Father in heaven may have as
little reason to be pleased with him, as an earthly father with that
child, in whose history there may be a number of conformities
with his own will, but in whose heart there is an obvious sullenness, or at least an utter disregard and indifference towards him.
"Give me thy heart," says God, and "Love Him with all thy heart,"
says the law of God. It is by viewing the law, in all its height,
that we are made to feel how deep the condemnation is into which
the law has placed us. Our actions may look fair in the eye of
society, while it is manifest, to the eye of our own conscience, that
our affections are altogether set on time, and on the creature, and
altogether turned from the Creator. Those virtues, which give us
a flourishing name upon earth, are not enough to transplant us
into heaven. The law which said, " Do these things and live,"
finds its very first doing, or demand, unsatisfied, and bars our entrance into heaven. It convicts us, not perhaps of many specific
sins; but, most awfully decisive of our fortune through eternity,
it convicts us of an unremitting course or current of sinfulness;
and so, dead by the law, the gate of life is shut against us.
The counterpart to this awful truth, that by the law the sinner
is dead, is that by Christ the believer is made alive. We may understand, in word and in letter, how this can be, even though we
ourselves have had no part in the process. We may have the knowledge, though perhaps not the faith in it; and just as a spectator
might look intelligently to a process in which he does not personally share, so might we have the literal apprehension of that way
by which the sinner, who by the law is judicially dead, might by
Christ become judicially alive. But aware of it though we be, it
cannot be too often reiterated; and may the Spirit give a power
and a demonstration to this important truth, when we say again
how it is that the transgressor is made free. The sentence then
is not annulled, it is only transferred. It is lifted up from his head,
because laid on the head of another, who rather than that man
should die, did Himself bear the burden of it. For this purpose
did he bow Himself down unto the sacrifice, and submitted to that
deep, that mysterious endurance, under which He had to sustain
the weight of a world's atonernent. The vials of the Lawgiver's
wrath were exhausted upon Him. The law was magnified and
made honorable in Him. In Him the work of vengeance was
completed, and every attribute of the Godhead that man had
insulted by his disobedience, did, on the cross of Christ, obtain its
ample reparation. There, and under a weight of suffering which
nought but the strength of the Divinity could uphold, the sacredness of the Divinity was awfully manifested; when, like a rain41




822            BEVERIDGE S PRIVATE THOUGHTS.
bow after the storm, the mercy of heaven arose out of the dark
and warring elements, and has ever since shone upon our world,
like a beauteous halo that now circles and irradiates all the other
perfections of the Godhead. And the sight of it is as free to all
as is the sun in the firmament. The elements of light and of air,
and the other common bounties of nature, are not more designed
for the use of each and all of the human species, than is the widely
sounding call of " Look unto me all ye ends of the earth, and be
ye saved." And whosoever he be that looks, and looks believingly, shall live. He is lightened of the burden of his guilt so
soon as he puts faith in the Saviour. That great peace-offering
for the sins of the world, becomes a peace-offering unto him. He
exchanges conditions with his surety. His guilt is put to Christ's
account, and Christ's righteousness is put to his account. He obtains his full discharge firom the sentence that was against him;
and whereas by the law he was dead, he hath made his escape
from this judgment, and now by Christ is alive.*
We wish that we could give the adequate impression of that
perfect welcome and good-will, wherewith all men are invited to
the mercy-seat. Under the economy of the law there was a curse
pronounced upon every one who continued not in all the words
that were written in its book to do them; and the question is, how
can any who has transgressed so much as one of these precepts,
make his escape from this felt denunciation? Many there are who,
to bring this about, would still keep up the old economy of the law,
though in such a reduced and mutilated way, as might permit of an
outlet to all but the most enormous of criminals. But the Gospel
provides this outlet in another way, more direct, and distinct, and
consistent, by taking down the old economy and setting up a new
economy altogether. Christ hath redeemed us from the curse of the
law being made a curse for us; and while by this expedient the honors of the commandment have been fully vindicated-by this expe-. dient, also, the mercy of God, as if released from the impediment
which held it, now goes forth rejoicingly, and in all its amplitude, to
the farthest limits of a guilty world. There is not one so sunk in
iniquity, that God, in Christ, does not beseech to enter forthwith
into reconciliation.  There is not one man under sentence of
death by the law, to whom eternal life is not offered, and offered
freely, as the gift of God through Jesus Christ our Lord. The
sceptre of forgiveness is held out even to the chief of sinners; and
a way of access has been opened, by which one and all of them
are invited to draw nigh. Heaven would have shrunk, so ethereal and so sensitive is its holiness —it would have shrunk, in quick
and immediate recoil, from the approaches of the guilty; but the
way by which they now come is a consecrated way, consecrated
* For a full and explicit statement of this doctrine, we refer the reader to the 6th,
7th, 8th, and 9th articles of Bishop Beveridge's belief, as drawn up by himself in the
following Treatise.




BEVERIDGE S PRIVATE THOUGHTS.            323
by the blood of an everlasting covenant; and along which all of
us are beckoned to move, by every call, and every signal of encouragement. We are dead by the law, but it is a death from
which we are bidden, by the voice of the Gospel, to come forth.
And he that believeth therein, "though he were dead, yet shall he
live."
This is the truth implied in the expression, that a Christian is
dead by the law, and alive by Christ. We shall now consider
the truth implied in the other expression, that a Christian is dead
unto the law, and alive unto Christ. The former expression is
significant of the judicial state of a believer. The latter is significant of his personal character. We may perhaps better understand the phrase of being " dead unto the law," when we think
of such analogous phrases, as, the being dead unto sin; or dead
unto the world; or dead to the fascinations of pleasure; or dead
to the sensibilities of the heart; or dead to the urgencies of temptation. It expresses character, for it expresses man's insensibility,
or the property that he has of being unmoved by certain objects
that are addressed to him, but which either pleasurably or painfully affect the feelings of other men. He who can look unsoftened and unimpressed on a scene of wretchedness, or of cruel
suffering, is dead to compassion. He who pities, and is in tenderness, is alive to it. He who can look without delight on the glories of a landscape, is dead to the charms of nature's scenery.
He who can be told, without emotion, of some noble deeds of
generosity or honor. is dead to the higher beauties of the mind, to
the charms of moral grace, or of moral greatness.
A man is dead unto that, which, when present to him as an object of thought, is nevertheless not an object of feeling; and more
especially when that which is lovely is placed within his view, and
no love is awakened by it. It will therefore require some explar
nation, that we might apprehend aright the phrase of the apostle" dead to the law." He cannot mean to say of himself, that he is
dead to the beauties of that holiness which it contains-that he is
dead to the worth of those virtues which lie engraven either on
the first or second division of its tablet of jurisprudence-that he
sees nought to admire in the godliness that is set forth in the one,
or the humanity that is set forth in the other-that he is utterly
devoid of aught like a taste, or an inclination within him, which
can at all respond to that picture of moral excellence which the
law puts before him; and so yielding no homage of desire towards
it, he may have as good as renounced it in his doings. This
surely is not the interpretation which can be put upon it; for the
apostle elsewhere says of himself that he delighted in the law;
and he eulogizes it as holy, and just, and good. Holy men of old
loved the law, and it was their meditation all the day long-and
the lyre of the Psalmist is re-echoed by the longings of every
Christian heart, when he says, "0 how I love thy law;" and




324           BEVERIDGE S PRIVATE THOUGHTS.
"blessed is the man that delighteth greatly in its commandments."
There must be something else then, in and about the law, to
which a believer is dead, than either the rightness of its precepts,
or the moral and spiritual beauty of its perfections, when these
are realized upon the character. Every true believer is most
thoroughly alive both to the one and the other-and the question
remains, What is it of the law to which he has become dead?
Perhaps this question is best answered by the apostle's own statement, that we are dead in Christ, or that we have been partakers
in his death-not that we partake with him in its sufferings, for
this he endured alone, but we partake with him in its immunities,
now that the sufferings are over. The believer stands now in the
same relation to the law, that the man does, who has already sustained the execution of its sentence upon his person. It has no
further claim upon him. He needs to fear no more, for he has to
suffer no more. Its threatenings have all been discharged-not
upon himself, it is true, but upon another for his sake, and by whom
they have forever been averted from his own soul. He may now
fear as little, and feel as little, of the law's severity, as can the
dead body of the executed criminal: and it is in this sense that
the believer is dead unto the law-not dead to the worth and the
loveliness of its commandments, but altogether dead to the terror
of its condemnation —not unmoved by the grace and the rightness
of its moralities, but wholly unmoved, because now wholly placed
beyond the reach of its menaces-not dead to its voice, when it
points to the way of peace and pleasantness, but now conclusively
dead to its voice as a relentless judge, or its countenance as a fierce
and determined avenger, so that the believer may at once walk
before God without fear, and yet walk before Him in righteousness and in holiness.
The older authors, whose writings are so much more richly
fraught than those of our own days with the produce of deep and
well-'exercised intellect, on the various questions of theology, tell
us of the law being now set aside as a covenant, while it remains
with us as a rule of life. This single change of economy teaches
us, to what of the law it is that we are dead, and to what of it we
are still alive. We are dead to all those jealousies which are apt
to arise about the terms and the punctualities of a bargain. There
is no longer the lifting up of a bond, upon the one side, and this
reacted to by the spirit of bondage. upon the other. There are a
dread and a distrust, and the feeling of a divided interest, between
two parties, when it is the business of the one to look after the
due performance of certain covenanted articles, and of the other,
by his square and regular performance of these, just to do as much
as that he may escape the denounced penalty, or as that he may
earn the stipulated reward. "I call you no longer servants but
sons," did our Saviour say to His disciples; and this, perhaps,




BEVERIDGE S PRIVATE THOUGHTS             325
goes most effectually to distinguish between the obedience which
is under the old, and that which is under the new economy. We
do the very same things under both, but in a wholly different
spirit. As sons, we do them  from the feeling of love.  As servants, we do them by the force of law. It is the spontaneous taste
of the one. It is the servile task of the other. The meat and
drink of the servant lie in the hire which is given for the doing of
his master's will. The meat and drink of the son lie in the very
doing of that will. He does not feel it to be a service, but the
very solace and satisfaction of his own renovated spirit. It is
well to apprehend this distinction; for it, in truth, is that which
marks, most precisely, the evangelical from the legal obedience.
To all these feelings, which have been termed the feelings, or the
fears of legality, the believer under the economy of the New
Testament is altogether dead. He is not exempted from service,
but it is service in the newness of the spirit, and not in the oldness
of the letter-not gone about in the style of a hireling, who looks
merely to his reward, and is satisfied if he can but fulfil the literalities of that contract by which the reward is secured to him.
We see how at once, by this single change, a new character is
given to his obedience-how, when dead to the law, which tells
him to do this and live. he looks awav from all those narrow suspicions, and all those besetting fears, wherewith a mercenary
service is encompassed —and how when alive to the Gospel, which
first gives him life, and then bids him do, he instantly ascends
upon a higher walk of obedience, being now urged onward by a
taste for the virtues of the law, and not by the terror of its violation —and instead of looking for some distinct reward after the
keeping of the -commandments, which in truth argues nothing
spontaneously good in the character at all, feeling even now, that
in the keeping of the commandments there is a very great reward.
With this explanation of what it is to be dead unto the law, we
may fully understand what it is to live unto Christ. As to be
dead unto any object, is to want that sensibility which the object
is fitted to awaken —then to be alive unto any object, is just to
have the sensibility.  One of our poets designates the child of sensibilitv to be one who is feelingly alive to each fine impulse. It
is thus that we are alive to the call of distress-alive to the charms
of a landscape-alive to the obligations of honor —alive to the
charms of gratitude or friendship. It marks an attribute of the
personal character, because it marks its degree of sensibility to
any such objects as are presented to it; and we may easily consider what the result will be when Christ is the object, and when
he to whom this object is addressed is alive unto Christ. Let us
only conceive him to cast an intelligent look upon the Saviour, to
compute aright the mighty surrender which He had to make,
when He had to surrender the glory of heaven, for a death equivalent in its soreness to the eternity of accursed millions in hell



326            BEVERIDGE S PRIVATE THOUGHTS.
let us think of the tenderness to our world which urged Him forth
upon the errand to seek and to save it, and the strength of that
unquenchable love which so bore him up amid the pains and the
perils of His great undertaking-let us but look on the fearful agonies, and listen to the cries, that, in the hour and power of darkness, were extorted from Him, who had the energy of the Godhead to sustain Him, and who, from the garden to the cross, had
to travel through a mystery of suffering, that sinners might go free
-let us but connect this terror, and these shrinkings, of the incarnate Godhead, with the peace of our own unburdened consciences,
as we draw near unto the mercy-seat, and plead our full acquittal
from that vengeance which has already been discharged, from
that penalty which has been already borne-let us bring together
in thought, even as they stand together in reality, the love of
Christ and our own dear-bought liberty, and that to Him all the
immunities of our present grace, and all the brightest visions of
our future immortality are owing. To be awake unto all this with
the eye of the understanding, and to be alive unto all this with the
susceptibilities of the heart, is just to be in that practical state
which we now endeavor to set fbrth-and under which it is, that
every true Christian gives up the devotedness of his whole life, as
an offering of gratitude to Him who hath redeemed it-and feeling that " he is not his own, but bought with a price, lives no
longer to himself, but to the Saviour who died for him and who
rose again."
But it is the unceasing aim of gratitude to gratify its object;
and the question comes to be, What precise direction will this affection, now stirring and alive in our hearts towards Christ, impress upon our history.  This will resolve itself into the other
question, of how is it that Christ is most gratified? what is it that
lie chiefly wills of us, or that we can do, which His desires are
most set upon? For the resolution of this inquiry, the Scriptures
of truth give us abundance of testimonies. His will is our sanctification. The great and ultimate object for which He put forth
His hand upon us was to make us holy. He gave Himself up for
us, that we might give ourselves up unto the guidance of that
word, and the gracious operation of that Spirit, whereby He purifies unto Himself a peculiar people, and makes them zealous of
good works. He has now risen to the throne of His appointed
Mediatorship; and the voice that He addressed to His first disciples, still issues therefrom to the disciples of all ages —" If ye love
me, keep my commandments;" and, "Ye are my friends, if ye
do whatsoever I command you." Now the commandments of
Christ to whom we are alive, are just the individual commandments of that law to which we are dead.  The things to which
we were before driven by the terrors of authority, are the very
things to which we are now drawn by the ties of gratitude. God
in His love to righteousness firamed all the virtues which compose




BEVERIDGE S PRIVATE THOUGHTS.             327
it into the articles of a covenant that we had violated, but which
now in Christ is settled and set by. And God in His still unabated
love to righteousness, yet wills to impress all the virtues of it upon
our person. What before He inscribed on the records of a written commandment, He would now infuse within the repositories
of a believer's breast —and those precepts which, under the old
economy, were the ground of a condemnation that is now taken
away, compose, under the new economy, a rule of life, the obligation of which remaineth with us forever.
Though the law be now taken away from the eye of the believer, yet Christ stands in its place, and these very virtues which
were exacted by the one, are still taught and exemplified by the
other.* He is the image and representation of His Father, and
long ere the moralities of absolute and everlasting rectitude were
impressed on a tablet of jurisprudence, they had their place and
their living delineation in the character of the Godhead. The
laws and threatenings of the tablet are now expunged and taken
away from the sight of the believer, but the character remains in.
full view, and now more impressively bodied forth than ever, because now a sensible representation has been given of it in the
person of Jesus Christ. And to be alive unto Christ, is to be alive
to the beauties of this representation. There is more implied by
it than gratitude for His love. It further implies the admiration
of His loveliness. With both together we superadd to the obedience of His precepts, the imitation of His example; and it is
in the busy prosecution of them, that every true disciple abounds
in the fruits of righteousness, and so lives unto God. The matter
of the commandment is the same that it ever was. The motive
only is changed. Then we wrought for the favor of God; or
rather, under the despair of having fallen short, we wrought for
the purpose of some possible escape, or to mitigate the vengeance
that we found to be awaiting us. Now we work in the secure and
conscious possession of this favor, and rejoice in the will and the
ways of Him who rejoices over us to do us good.  It has ceased
to be the service of constraint.  It has come to be the service of
willingness.  It is a thank-offering, and more than this, it is our
now voluntary deference to that law whose precepts we love, and
love the more, that we have now been placed beyond the reach
of its penalties. It is to the latter only that we are dead, for to
the former we are most thoroughly alive; and, instead of the servilities of a forced obedience, we now render unto God the spontaneous homage of a freeman, the love and loyalty of a friend.
It is thus that every true disciple, while dead unto the law, is
living unto God.  We can imagine the law to be written on a
tablet, and suspended between us and God; Him pointing both to
* We again refer the reader to that Section, in the Second Part of this work, which
treats of " The Imitation of Christ," for an admirable illustration of our preceding at.
gurnent.




328            BEVERIDGE S PRIVATE THOUGHTS.
its precepts and its penalties, and we become conscious of our
utter deficiency from the one, and tremblingly alive to a dread of
the other.  It is well that this be felt by the sinner, till he is prevailed upon to flee from the coming wrath which is thus denounced
upon him by the law, and to flee for refuge to the hope set before
him in the Gospel. Thus it is, in the language of Paul to the Colossians, that the hand-writing of ordinances that was against us,
is blotted out, and taken out of the way; and the believer is now
dead to the terror of all those penalties, to which aforetime he
had been most powerfully alive. The penalties are now taken out
of sight, but the precepts are not taken out of sight. It is true
that the frightful inscription, which stood as a barrier or an interdict between him and God, is now removed; and the consequence
is, that he is now brought nigh unto God, whose character has
undergone no change, but who bears the same unaltered love to
all the moralities of righteousness as before. And so those identical virtues which, under the law, are addressed unto men as the
precepts of an authoritative code, and have been resisted by all,
are still addressed unto men as the persuasions of a now reconciled friend, and which every believer in Jesus Christ finds to be
irresistible. They stood then associated with the frown, and the
compulsion, and the curse, and all the other accompaniments of a
ministry of condemnation, to which by this time he is dead. They
stand now associated with the kindness, and the affectionate urgency, and the sympathy of manifested example, and the native
beauties of holiness, to all of which he is now most thoroughly,
and most feelingly alive. The expression of a wish from God
under the new dispensation, has a greater moral ascendency
over the believer's heart, than even a commandment had under
the old. In a word, the spirit of bondage has fled away, and in
its place has come the spirit of adoption, in the power of which
he lives unto God, and abounds in all the fruits, and all the performances of willing obedience.
We may now understand how it is that a change in the judicial state brings about a change in the private character; how it
is, that he who is dead by the law, when he is made alive by
Christ, becomes dead unto the law and alive unto Christ. When
we receive the truth that is in Jesus, we are justified: for then
we are justified by faith. And to understand the way in which
this truth makes us holy; or, how it is that we are sanctified by
faith, we have only to consider the believer as dead unto the law,
in the sense wherein we have already explained it, simply because
he now believes that Christ hath redeemed him from its condemnation and its curse. It is because of the connection between his
faith and his peace. He is no longer alive to the terror of those
threatenings which are by the law, now that he sees its threatenings to have been all of them discharged. He is no longer under
the dread of its vengeance, now that the vengeance is absorbed.




BEVERIDGE S PRIVATE THOUGHTS.           329
He is no longer afraid of a reckoning for the debts and deficiencies that he had incurred, seeing that Christ has been reckoned
with as his surety-bearing the penalties of his disobedience, and
giving him in exchange, the reward of His own perfect righteousness. It is just because he has been made judicially alive by Christ,
that he is now dead to all the alarm of that judicial condemnation
under which he aforetime lay. The one comes simply and immediately out of faith in the other; and is the same sort of moral
phenomenon with that of a man ceasing to have the apprehension
of a danger that impended over him, on the moment of being
made to perceive that the danger has passed away.
But, the believer is not only dead unto the law, but alive unto
Christ. This is because of the connection between his faith and
his gratitude. It is by Christ's work that we are released from
the pains of a violated law; but yet, it is His will that we do the
precepts of it; and in His person too there is the highest exemplification of its graces and virtues. When we believe in His work,
we become alive to a sense of cordial and willing obligation; and
when we understand what His will is, we become alive to the
moralities of that very law, to whose menaces we are altogether
dead. It is at that transition by which we are released from its
penalties, that we become riveted to the adm'tation of its perfections, and the devoted followers of its truth and justice, and humanity and holiness. Every man who has been made alive by
Christ, must be alive to Him; so as to live no longer to himself,
but to live unto Christ who died for him, and who rose again.
There is nought in the Gospel which exempts us fiom obedience,
but everything in it and about it which excites to obedience-to
obedience in a better spirit than we could possibly have under the
law-to obedience, if we may so speak, in a higher style of it,not the obedience that is extorted by terror or by power, but the
obedience to which we are urged by taste and by gratitude. And
amid all the darkness of human controversy and explanation, one
thing is clear-even the apostolical test of our truly knowing
Christ, that we keep his commandments.
But, while we insist on this as the true test of discipleship, we
are no less strenuous in insisting on a sound faith, convinced as
we are of the intimate connection which subsists between a sound
faith and a sound practice. Without the former we have the
highest authority for stating, that it is impossible to please God;
though the latter we hold to be no less necessary as the indispensable preparation for heaven, since without holiness no man
can see God; and therefore would we labor to make every inquirer acquainted with the foundation of a Christian's hope, as
well as the rule of a Christian's practice. And, for this purpose,
instead of offering any further exposition of our own on these two
most important topics, we would recommend to his perusal the
two following Treatises of Bishop Beveridge, " Thoughts on Re42




330            BEVERIDGE'S PRIVATE THOUGHTS.
ligion," and "On a Christian Life," where he will find an admiralle conjunction of the great doctrines of Christianity, with those
graces and accomplishments of the Christian character, which
form the necessary fruits and consequences of a genuine faith in
these doctrines; and from which are derived the only motives of
sufficient power and potency, for establishing the authority of
Christian morality in the heart, and for securing obedience to it
in the life.
In his first Treatise this learned and pious prelate gives an enumeration of the articles of his faith, with a clearness and precision
which indicate that he had a distinct and scriptural view of the
dispensation of grace, in all its relations and dependencies; while
the "Resolutions" formed thereupon, deduced as they are from
the articles of his faith, and deriving from them their whole force
and urgency of motive, are admirably fitted for regulating the
affections and conduct of the aspiring candidate for heaven. And
we apprehend. that it is from the want of such distinct and welldefined rules for the government of their thoughts, and actions, and
general intercourse in the world, which this pious bishop deemed
so necessary for the regulation of his own heart and life, that
many professing Christians, not otherwise defective in a sound orthodoxy, do never*,eless exhibit much that is defective and inconsistent in their Christian profession. In this so important a branch
of Christian duty, and so conducive to the consistency and comfort of the Christian life, the example of this excellent prelate is
highly worthy of imitation; and when entered into, in an humble
dependence on the strength and sufficiency of Him in whose grace
alone he can be strong, the Christian disciple will find it conducive
to his personal sanctification and growth in the divine life.
The second Treatise contains a no less excellent and valuable
exposition of several important topics, which are intimately connected witlh the formation and successful prosecution of the Christian life. His observations on the Christian education of children,
are entitled to the serious regard of those parents who are in
earnest to bring up their children in the nurture and admonition
of the Lord; and in the subsequent topics, which form the concluding portion of his work, there is a close and forcible application of truth to the conscience, addressed with all the power and
solemn earnestness of a man, who felt as well as understood the
truths he was expounding. Bishop Beveridge was an eminent
and successful minister of the Gospel of Christ, and was a distinguished ornament of that church of which he was a dignitary;
and we cannot give a better portraiture of this truly good and
pious man, both as a private Christian and as a public functionary,
than by transcribing the following character of him, as drawn by
his biographer.
4' This great and good bishop had very early addicted himself
to piety and a religious course of life, of which his Private




BEVERIDGE S PRIVATE THOUGHTS.           331
Thoughts upon Religion will be a lasting evidence. They were
written in his younger years; and he must a considerable time
before this, have devoted himself to such practices, otherwise he
could never have drawn up so judicious and sound a declaration
of his faith, nor have formed such excellent resolutions so agreeable to the Christian life in all its parts. These things show him
to be acquainted with the life and power of religion long before,
and that even from a child he knew the Holy Scriptures. And as
his piety was early, so it was very eminent and conspicuous, in
all the parts and stations of his life. As he had formed such good
resolutions, he made suitable improvements upon them; and they,
at length, grew up into such settled habits, that all his actions savored of nothing but piety and religion. His holy example was
a very great ornament to our church; and lie honored his profession and function by zealously discharging all the duties thereof.
How remarkable was his piety towards God! What an awful
sense of the divine Majesty did he always express! How did he
delight in His worship and service, and frequent His house of
prayer! How great was his charity to men; how earnestly was
he concerned for their welfare, as his pathetic addresses to them
in his discourses plainly discover! How did the Christian spirit
run through all his actions, and what a wonderful pattern was he
of primitive purity, holiness, and devotion! ~ As he was remarkable for his glreat piety and zeal for religion, so he was highly to
be esteemed for his learning, which he wholly applied to promote
the interest of his great Master. He was one of extensive and
almost universal reading; he was well skilled in the oriental languages, and the Jewish learning, as may appear from many of his
sermons; and indeed he was furnished to a very eminent degree
wvith all useful knowledge. He was very much to be admired for
his readiness in the Scriptures: he had made it his business to
acquaint himself thoroughly with those sacred oracles, whereby
he was furnished unto all good works: he was able to produce
suitable passages from them on all occasions, and was very happy
in explaining them to others. Thus he improved his time and his
abilities in serving God, and doing good, till he arrived at a good
old age, when it pleased his great Master to give him rest from
his labors, and to assign him a place in those mansions of bliss,
where he had always laid up his treasure, and to which his heart
had been all along devoted through the whole course of his life
and actions. He was so highly esteemed among all learned and
good men, that when he was dying, one of the chief of his order
deservedly said of him,' There goes one of the greatest, and one
of the best men, that ever England bred.'"




INTRODUCTORY ESSAY
TO
THE REIGN OF GRACE,
FROM ITS RISE TO ITS CONSUMMATION.
BY ABRAHAM BOOTH.
THERE is no one term which is more frequently employed in
the Bible, to denote our relationship to God, than the term covenant. But though the import of this term is sufficiently understood when it relates to the intercourse between man and man,
we fear it is very indistinctly apprehended when it expresses our
relation to God. A covenant is an agreement between at least
two parties, and it is generally at first proposed by one of them,
and then acceded to by the other. If the former be very distinct,
and absolute, and peremptory in the terms that he lays down, the
latter, in the act of giving his acquiescence, feels that he is coming
under very distinct and certain obligations. The engagement is
just felt to be as formal upon the one side, as it is upon the other
and when it is a contract between man and man, there is a
strict and definite understanding, both with him who originated
the articles, and him who complies with them.
It is thus, in any social or earthly covenant. We there see how
anxiously the utmost explicitness is secured, by one clause and
one stipulation after another, that each may know the distinct
place he has to occupy, and the distinct part he has to perform.
There is a certain relative position in which the one party stands
to the other, so that when the one enters upon his place in the
covenant, and then acts the part that is assigned to him, the other
conforms to the covenant by entering upon his place, and acting
the part that is assigned to him. Were there a loose or obscure
understanding on the one side, then, on the other side, there might
be freedom for a loose and obscure understanding also. But a
well-framed covenant does away all looseness, and admits of
nothing but what is strict and determinate; so that all who are
concerned mav have a clear and well-defined path to walk in.
The formal and peremptory attitude of one party in the covenant,




BOOTH S REIGN OF GRACE.             333
calls for a corresponding attitude from the other, and summons
him to an observation just as pointed and as rigorous as the terms
that are imposed.  And the line of performance for each is so
marked out, that each is fully aware when he keeps by it, and as
fully aware when he steps aside into any track of deviation.
Now, if such be the real force and import of a covenant, what
a lesson does it hold forth, when this is the very term that the
Bible so often employs in expressing that transaction by which a
man enters into a right relationship with God. What a power of
rebuke is conveved by this single term, on the loose, and indefinite,
and floating imaginations of almost every man, as to the right
federal position which he himself should occupy, and as to the
question, whether he has actually and personally entered upon it.
What a fell denunciation does this one vocable carry with it, not
merely on the unsettledness of his accounts with God, but on the
unsettledness even of his conceptions, as to the footing upon which,
if we may use the expression, the account is opened with Him.
How vague the apprehensions of the vast majority are, as to the
terms in which an agreement is struck with God, and as to the
way and method in which that agreement is kept up and maintained with Him. And this charge extends a great deal farther
than to those who profess no care and no concern about the matter. How many may be specified of those who are versant in
the whole orthodoxy of the new covenant, and yet with whom
the question is altogether undetermined, whether it be a covenant
that they have individually laid hold of. They love the evangelical language, and they like to breathe in the atmosphere of an
evangelical society, and they feel that the decided preference of
their taste is towards the tone and habit of evangelical professorship, and yet, with all this, they have not set themselves to the
question, " What shall I do to be saved?" with that pointedness,
and formality, and mature deliberation upon articles, which the
very term of a covenant appears to demand of them.  They
breathe, perhaps, many good desires, and are in the way of many
good impulses, and give their most cordial assent to the truth and
importance of all the scriptural doctrine that is proposed to them;
nay, can speak soundly and well about the new covenant, and yet
have never distinctly, and solemnly, and individually, charged the
obligation of its articles upon themselves-living very much adrift
and at random after all-with no distinct place of relationship to
God, personally and actually in occupation-with no urgent or
practical sense of any clearly articled engagement between Him
and them, viewed in the light of two parties linked together by
the tie of mutual promises, and respectively bound to certain mutual performances, and habitually unconscious, all the day long,
of having taken up any position in which they have certain appropriate duties to discharge, and every occupier of which has the




334              BOOTH S REIGN OF GRACE.
right to look from the other party in the contract for the fulfilment
of certain stipulations.
Meanwhile there is no want either of clearness or of precision
with God. All is pointed and peremptory in the manifesto that
He has given of Himself to the world. He wills us to enter into
covenant with him, but lays down the terms of it in a way so distinct and so authoritative, as to preclude and lay an interdict upon
all others. In framing the articles of this covenant, all the high
and unchanging principles of heaven's jurisprudence were concerned-and we behold upon the face of it, the sure impress of
that moral character which obtains in the sanctuary above. It is
a document which announces the truth, and the justice, and the
uncompromising dignity of the government by which it has been
issued; and there is indeed a striking contrast between the disregard in which it is held by men on earth, and the intense earnestness of that gaze which it drew from the choirs and the companies
of the celestial. "Which things the angels desire to look into."
So that there is no lightness, and no looseness, in the terms of that
proposal which came down to us from heaven. The question, of
how an alliance between God and sinners could be struck, and
how a right ceremonial of approach and meeting between the
parties could be adjusted, and what sort of compact ought to be
devised, so as to satisfy the claims, and suit itself to the character
of each-these are questions which, however slighted in a world,
where all that is above, is looked to through the dull medium of
its gross and incumbent carnality-they are questions which have
exercised the purest and mightiest intelligences in nature, and
which belong to the very essence of the rectitude that is everlasting. They are questions, for the right determination of which,
we see all heaven, as it were, in a busy movement of concernand the public mind of God's unfallen universe, at least, directed
in solemn contemplation towards them, and an overture made out
with all the form and circumstance of a covenant that was to be
unalterable; and this delivered into the hands of a Mediator, who,
both by the dignity of His person, and the power of His high,
though mysterious achievements, has added to the weight and
sacredness of the whole transaction; —and thus has it been ushered in with a style of authority to the notice of our species, who
are called to listen, that they may hear of the only way in which
God will be approached, and of the only terms in which He will
treat with them. And is not this a call upon us to look more
strictly into the matter of our relationship with God, and a reproach to us for the vague indifference of our minds upon the
subject, and an urgent application to our conscience, whether we
have taken up our part in the account, and whether there has
been such an event in our history, as a great federal transaction
between us and the Lawgiver in heaven; whether we have
struck with Him, or closed with Him, upon His own terms;




BOOTH S REIGN OF GRACE.               335
whether the fulfilment of our part of the covenant in time, is our
habitual business, and the fulfilment of His part of it, both in time
and in eternity, is our habitual expectation-in a word, whether
we are living as we list, or living by the terms of a treaty actually
concluded and entered upon between us and God. These are
questions that need to be addressed, not merely to those on whom
the terms and the obligations of religion have no hold, but to those
who are longing after it, though in hitherto fruitless aspirations;
to those who, yet wrapt in a kind of general mistiness, have never
seen the certainty of that track which they have to pursue, and
never felt the solidity of that ground which they have to walk
upon-who sigh, and expatiate, and spend their earnestness among
fruitless generalities-who still feel themselves bewildered in the
haze of undefined speculation-and have neither the confident
look, nor yet the confirmed footstep of him who knows his calling,
and who has actually taken hold of a sure and a well-ordered
covenant.
We apprehend that there is an actual, and a highly interesting
class, who exemplify the very condition of mind which we now
attempt to characterize. The truth is, it marks a sort of transitive
state in the progress from nature to grace, which the great generality of inquirers have to undergo. There is such a thing as a
longing desirousness to be right, but without any clear or steady
perception of the avenue that leads to it-an honest, but yet an
undirected inclination of the mind towards God-a heart under
the visitation of strong wconcern, that its possessor should be what
he ought, and do what he ought, but still laboring in the midst of
many fears and many fluctuations, and that just because he looks
with a still clouded eye, on the field of spiritual contemplation that
lies before him. This is a state, which reminds us somewhat of
the exercise of the Psalmist, when he says, "My soul breaketh for
the longing that it hath unto thy judgments at all times," and that,
shortly after he had said, in the perplexity of his felt darkness,
" Open thou mine eyes, that I may behold wondrous things out of
thy law." Now we would pronounce of him who is in this state,
that his face is towards Zion. He is seeking the Lord, if haply he
may feel after Him and find Him; and laboring to enter upon a
rest which he hath not yet attained to-familiar with all the sounds
and all the doctrines of orthodoxy, but without being conscious, as
vet, of having taken up that position which orthodoxy would assign
individually to him-rather trying to put himself into the attitude
of readiness for the Lord, than actually waiting in that attitude for
the coming of the Lord-thoroughly aware that there is a posture
of preparation, but utterly in the dark, whether it is a posture that
he has personally assumed-and in the face of a covenant offered
from heaven for his acceptance, with all its articles penned under
the dictates of clear and unerring wisdom, still" running as uncertainly, still fighting even as one that beateth the air."




336               BOOTH'S REIGN OF GRACE.
This is a matter which ought not to be left in a state of unsettledness. If ever there was a business which it were desirable
should be brought to a point, it is surely that which involves in it
the state of a creature towards God. Of all the questions that lie
within the compass of human speculation, this ought not to be
abandoned to the caprices of a loose and floating imagination.
" What shall I do to be saved?" and " wherewithal shall I come
before God?" these are interrogatories precise in the object of
them, nor should we rest satisfied with anything short of a precise
and clearly intelligible solution. It is woful to think of the frivolitv wherewith the mind can shift itself away from the urgency of
these questions, and by an act of indefinite postponement, can commit them to a futurity that, in all likelihood, will ever be receding
till that hour which separates its misspent time from its unprovided
eternity. Were there anything slack or indeterminate in the articles of God's message to the world, this might well apologize for
a corresponding remissness on the part of man. But when this
message has come in pointed application to us, and armed with all
the rigor and imperative force of an ultimatum, and has taken the
shape of a covenant, in which God offers His terms, and both demands and entreats our compliance with them —there is no room
left for parrying or evasion; nor do we meet aright this advancing movement on the part of God, but by our distinct response to
His distinct and peremptory overtures.
It were well, if, under the impulse of such considerations, we
were to take up the language of the Prephet, and say, "Come
then, and let us join ourselves to the Lord." There is one way
of setting forth upon this movement, to which nature feels a very
strong and general inclination. Nothing can be more natural than
the conclusion-that hitherto we have done wrong, and are therefore out of terms and out of friendship with God. Let us henceforth do right, and thus we shall recover the ground from which
our own sins have disposted us. There is a universal propensity
among men to feel in this manner. It is by our own doings that
we have forfeited our claim upon God; and it is by our own
doings that the claim is to be re-established. The truth is, that
though the old covenant of-" Do this and live," is now an utter
wreck, in virtue of man's disobedience, yet the feelings and tendencies of man's unrenewed nature still retain, as it were, the
very mould and impress of such a covenant; and we are not
aware of a more prevailing imagination, or of one that lurks more
insidiously, and operates more powerfully in the human bosom,
than that acceptance with God can somehow be carried by a
certain character of meritoriousness, in the desire of our own
hearts, and in the doing of our own hands. And this, our first
attempt, is so to manage as that heaven shall be rightfully ours, in
virtue of our rendered services, and that it shall come to us on
the footing of a legal payment, by which value is given for the




BOOTH S REIGN OF GRACE.              37
value that has been received. The secret, but certain aim, in the
first instance, of every man who goes out in quest of immortality,
is so to qualify himself, as that he may demand it as a right at the
bar of justice, instead of suing for it as a boon at the bar of mercy.
And this i, what the Bible calls " going about to establish a righteousness of our own"-founding a plea on which we may challenge
heaven as our well-earned remuneration, or as the fulfilment of a
bargain between two parties-standing on the even ground of
"work and win," upon the one side, and "accept of that work,
and bestow an adequate reward for it," upon the other. The
man who works with this for his object, is said to work in the
spirit of legality; and this we hold to be the aspiring and universal spirit of nature, in its first attempts to reunite with the God
from whom sin has so widely dissevered it.
This fond and clinging tendency on the part of man, to get into
terms with God on the footing of the old covenant, after that covenant has been broken into shreds, or, if he persist in his tendency, will gather itself up against him into a body of overwhelming
condemnation, has come down to us from our first parents, and is
deeply incorporated with that nature which they have transmitted
over the whole family of their descendants. It is not peculiar to
Jews, who wanted to make a righteousness out of their Mosaic
law. It extends to the men of all countries, and of all colors, who.
out of the law of conscience, or the law of conventional propriety in their neighborhood, or the law to which tradition, and revelation, and custom, have made their respective contributions, still
want to rear a righteousness of their own, which Gad, on the
principles of justice, shall be bound to accept, and, on the same
principles, shall be bound to reward.  This spirit of legality,
whatever may be its disguises, has a prompting and a presiding
influence at the outset of all our returning movements unto God.
And it is a spirit to which He has most broadly adverted in the
new covenant, that he has framed for the purpose of bringing
sinners again into fellowship with Himself, and there He peremptorily refuses to give it any countenance. He utterly refuses to
enter into any degrading compromise with human sinfulness-and,
setting up the authority of His law, as a thing that was unchangeable and irreducible, He holds that, by one act of disobedience,
the foundation of merit, on the part of the creature, is utterly cut
away. It is said of God, that He cannot lie. and therefore may
it be said of Him, that He cannot accept the unfinished conformities of man to a rule that is inflexible; He cannot accept of these
as the claims to which are to be adjudged the high rewards of
heaven's jurisprudence. We are outcasts from the old covenant,
if, in a single instance, we have made free with the authority of
God, or trampled on any of His requirements. And on the face
of the new covenant, there is nothing that stands out more strongly,
than the decisive check which it has laid on the spirit of legality,,
43




338               BOOTH S REIGN OF GRACE.
than the wide and welcome way in which it throws open the gate
of heaven to all. if willing to enter there on the footing of a divine
grant, and the firm interdict which, at the same time, it throws
across the path of all who offer to approach on the footing of
their own merits. There is not one more obvious or prominent
characteristic of the Gospel, than just the way in which it meets
and encounters the spirit of legality at the very outset, and must
either conquer it into entire submission, or decline to treat with
it altogether. It holds forth an alternative, on the one side of
which the access between God and man is hopelessly and everlastingly barred, and on the other side of which there is a patent
way of approach, even to the place "where His honor dwelleth,"
and where His favor is as free as the elements of air and light, to
all who will. All who propose to join themselves to the Lord in
that covenant, to which He has actually put His consenting hand,
ought to be aware of this-nor are they prepared for such a
movement, till brought to acquiesce in the saying, " that not by
works of righteousness which we have done, but according to
His mercy He hath saved us."
But it is altogether worthy of remark, that the mercy by which
we are saved, is mercy in conjunction with righteousness. On
the work of our redemption, the sacredness of the Godhead
stands as prominently out as does the tenderness of the Godhead.
God did not so love the world, as, under the simple instigation of
a compassionate feeling towards it, to send a message of forgiveness, and thus make known to sinners the mere clemency of His
nature. He so loved the world, as to send His only begotten Son
into it, who took upon Him the punishment of our guilt, and the
whole burden of that obedience which we should have rendered;
and thus made known the righteousness of His nature, as well as
its clemency, in that He thereby approved Himself just, while
the Justifier of those who believe in Jesus. This is the leading
characteristic of the Gospel dispensation. It is a dispensation of
mercy, but of mercy in alliance with truth; a mercy illustrative
of all those high and unchangeable perfections which belong to
the great moral Sovereign of the universe. He makes us all
welcome to pardon, but it is to pardon sealed by the blood of a
divine atonement. He beckons the guiltiest of men to draw nigh,
but it is only by the path of an appointed and consecrated mediatorship. He holds out the remission of sins to one and to every;
yet it is not a simple sentence of remission that He passes upon
any, but a sentence of justification; or, in other words, a sentence
given in consideration of a righteousness. To every sinner there
is declared the offer of his remission, that in laying hold of it, he
may do homage to the gentle and compassionate attributes of the
Deity. But to every sinner there is declared at the same time,
the righteousness on which this deed of remission is founded, that
he may also do homage to the august and holy attributes of the




BOOTH'S REIGN OF GRA(E.              339
Deity. He who confides in the general mercy of God, would
break up this association, which God will never consent to dissolve.
His hatred of sin, and the high moral regard He bears to the
worth and the rectitude of virtue, are stamped on every feature
of that econonvy which He has instituted for the acceptance and
recovery of the sinful. It is thus that the priesthood of Christ
stands forward to observation, in characters of sanctity, as bright
and legible as it does in the characters of benignity.  And therefore it is not a proffer of bare mercy, but of propitiated mercy,
that is held out for our acceptance. God does not set forth Himself with a general declaration of pardon to the sins of mankind;
but He sets forth His Son a propitiation for the sins of mankind.
And what we have to look to, is not the mercy of God unguarded
and unqualified; but the mercy of God in Christ, and through
Christ, reconciling the world.
There is no question that appears to have been more solemnly
entertained, and more deliberately weighed in the counsels of the
upper sanctuary, than how to determine the footing on which the
guilty shall be taken back again, into acceptance with the God
whom they had offended. And to provide a solid footing, Christ
had both to serve and to suffer in our stead. Lest our sins should
pass unreckoned, and so escape the punishment that was due to
them, they were reckoned unto Christ; and lest the righteousness
that He as Mediator has brought in, should pass unreckoned, and
so miss of a reward, it is reckoned unto us. And thus, in the
highest exhibition of generosity that ever was given to the world,
we behold, at the same time, all the precision of a justice that
could not deviate, and all the unchangeableness of a truth that
could not fail. Had we fulfilled the law of God, heaven would
have been ours, and it would have been given to us because of our
righteousness.  We have broken that law, and yet heaven may be
ours, not because of our righteousness, but still because of a righteousness; and the honor of God is deeply involved in the question, What and whose righteousness this is? It is not the righteousness of man, but the righteousness of Christ reckoned unto
man. The whole distinction between a covenant that is now exploded, and the covenant that is now in force, hinges upon this
alternative. If we make a confidence of the former plea, we shall
perish; and if of the latter, we shall have life everlasting.
God is merciful; and in virtue of this, it was His longing desire to frame a deed of reconciliation, and to convey it to our
world. But God is also righteous; and in virtue of this, the very
peculiar economy of a mediatorship, and an incarnation, and a sacrifice, had to be instituted, through which this deed of mercy was
to pass; and in its way, it became tinged as it were, with the full
expression of the entire and unbroken character of the Godhead.
So, that when it reaches the sinner, it bears upon it the impress
of the divine justice, as well as of the divine benignity. It is only




340               BOOTH'S REIGN OF GRACE.
by the acceptance of this deed on the part of the sinner, that God
will consent on His part to take the sinner into acceptance. He
will not enter into fellowship with the guilty, but in such a way
as shall secure their complete recognition of all the attributes of
His nature. Forgiveness by a mere demonstration of mercy is
not that way. Reward from Him as a generous master, to man
for his own righteousness, through an unworthy servant, is not
that way. The way must be such as to manifest not a degraded,
but a vindicated Sovereign; and so, that the mercy which He
awards shall be that, not of fallen, but of exalted majesty. And
hence the peremptory announcement, that no man cometh unto
the Father but by the Son, and the no less peremptory rejection
of every man who offers by any other approach, to draw nigh unto
the sanctuary. The whole character of heaven's jurisprudence
hangs upon the question, Whether man shall stand before God
upon his own righteousness, or the righteousness of Christ? nor is
there a more direct and pointed article in that covenant by which
a sinner joins himself to God, than, that on the one ground he will
never meet with acceptance, and on the other ground, he will
never miss it.
It is painful to be told of the insecurity of all those refuges to
which nature most fondly clings, and in which she most rejoices
as her favorite hiding-place. Man is never more in his element,
than when building a security before God, on some plea or palliation of his own; and it is not without a sigh, or without a strug.
gle, that he can behold the foundation of all merit in himself utterly swept away. The only redress we can offer, is to assure
him of the stability of that other, and that only foundation on
which we invite him to build. It is to announce to him, in the
language of Scripture, that as he has failed in making out a righteousness by his obedience to the law, "Christ is the end of the
law for this righteousness, to every one that believeth." It is to
make him perceive, that if he will only consent to stand on the
righteousness of Christ, as the alone ground of his dependence,
God will stand by the articles of His own covenant, for the fulfilment of which we have both His affirmation and His oath, as our
immutable guarantees. He will never mock the confidence which
His own word has inspired, and therefore one and all should encourage themselves on the strength of this assurance, and cast the
cause of their acceptance on that unfailing plea, that is never lifted
up by man without ascending in welcome to the throne of God.
The merit of His well-beloved Son is to Him the incense of a
sweet-smelling savor, so that the guiltiest creature who takes shelter there, has posted himself on the very avenue, along which there
ever rolls the tide of divine complacency. We should invest ourselves then with this merit, and wrap ourselves firmly in it, as in
a covering. We should put on Christ, who is offered to us without monev and without price. We should present ourselves before




BOOTH S REIGN OF GRACE.               341
God, with His invitation as our alone warrant, and the truth of
His promises, which are yea and amen in Christ Jesus, as our
alone confidence. HIis place in the new covenant is to declare
our forgiveness, through the blood of a satisfying atonement. Our
place in the covenant, is to give credit to that declaration. If each
of the parties take his own place, all the promises that have passed
from the one to the other will have their fulfilment.  If we have
faith in God, according to our faith, so will be His faithfulness.
The act of laying hold of this covenant, is primarily and essentially an act of the mind. It is a business, at the doing of which,
there may have been no visible or external movement at all; a
transaction entered upon, and completed in no other character of
agency, than the character of thought, and the fruit of a silent interview between the Spirit of God and the spirit of man, the former showing unto the latter the things of Christ, and the latter
rendering the consent of his understanding and belief to this demonstration. These are the unseen but substantial steps, by which
an act of reconciliation is struck between the two parties, and
both the overtures on the one side, and the responses on the other,
may be altogether mental. When God makes it known to the
sinner, by His word and Spirit, that Christ hath wrought out a
perfect righteousness, to the whole use and validity of which he is
just as welcome as if the righteousness were personally his own;
and when the sinner, persuaded of the truth of this, is simply translated into the same confidence before God that he would have
had, had his own personal righteousness been perfect like that of
Christ's; then the covenant of grace is in very deed entered upon,
and without any other forth-putting on the part of God, than the
exhibition of His word to man, and any other forth-putting on the
part of man, than the acquiescence that he has rendered thereto.
God's declaration of a righteousness unto all, and upon all who
believe, constitutes His offer. The credit we give to this declaration constitutes our acceptance. To receive Christ, we have only
to believe in His name. It is altogether a mental process. Our
renunciation of the plea of our own righteousness, is a mental act.
Our reliance on the plea of the righteousness of Christ, is a mental act. Our drawing upon God for forgiveness and justification
in the name of this righteousness, is a mental act. And God hath
graciously bound Himself to accept and to honor this method of
drawing. He has so ordered the covenant between us and Him,
that on our simply counting Him faithful who hath promised, He
counts Himself pledged to the fulfilment on us of what is so promised. Could we state the thing more freely we would do it, for
sure we are that the more freely it is stated, the more truly it is
stated. We have failed in making out a title-deed to God's favor
by our own obedience. Christ hath made one out for us by His
obedience. If we believe it to be a good title-deed. it is ours, if
we will. Should we be satisfied with it, God is. We are putting




342               BOOTIIHS REIGN OF GRACE.
honor upon Christ, when we trust in the plea of His righteousness; and God is putting honor upon Christ, when He sustains
the validity of this plea. Thus, there is a common place of meeting between God and the sinner, when the belief of the one, and
the blessing of the other, come into close and rejoicing fellowship.
Should any one who reads his Bible, and relying on God's testimony conceive this belief, then, on the strength of this mental inclination alone, he has laid hold of the covenant. He has become
invested with a complete righteousness, the whole reward of
which will be conferred on him, simply because of his reliance
upon it. It is his by faith. A negotiation has been going on between God and his soul, and such is the force and obligation of
the contract which has resulted from it, between the two parties
-that while the one is bound to depend, the other is bound not to
disappoint him.
We never shall obtain any secure or legitimate rest to our
minds, till we have thus found it in Jesus Christ, as the Lord our
righteousness-till we have come to trust wholly in His merit,
and not at all in our own, as our alone plea of meritorious acceptance with the righteous Lawgiver-till the free offer of a title to
eternal life, through the obedience of another, be met by our
faithful acceptance of it; and on cleaving to it as our single but
sufficient claim to reconciliation, have learned in this attitude to
walk in quietness, and with confidence before God.
It is not in our power to reason any one into this confidence.
It springs in the heart of man, on the simple statement of the truth,
and by the manifestation of that truth, by the Spirit. unto the conscience. Argument and eloquence are alike unavailing towards
the production of it. It is by the doctrine being presented to the
mind, and the mind perceiving in the doctrine a counterpart to its
own wants; it is thus that the faith comes which is unto salvation.
We have endeavored to offer a faithful exhibition of the truth as
it is in Jesus; and it is the part of the inquirer to ponder it attentively, and the Spirit may so convince of sin, and may so manifest
the suitableness of the proffered Saviour, as to assure him, that
this is indeed the wished-for remedy to the grievous and deep felt
disease. And therefore would we state the averments of Scripture, on this most essential and interesting of all subjects, with the
view of putting it to those who have sought for rest, and have not
yet found it, whether these words bear not the evidence of a testimony from heaven, seeing it is only by a sure and simple reliance
upon them, that they can reach the object they have so long and
so vainly been in quest of.
"Christ was delivered for our offences."  "Christ hath made
an end of transgressions, and brought in an everlasting righteousness."  " God hath set Him forth a propitiation for the sins of the
world."  "He died the just for the unjust, to bring us unto God.'
"He has been made sin for us, though He knew no sin, that we




BOOTH'S REIGN OF GRACE.              -343
might become the righteousness of God in Him."  "Justified by
faith, we have peace with God, through Jesus Christ our Lord."
"And all who believe in Him, are justified from all things, from
which they could not be justified by the law." Inasmuch that one
shall say, " In the Lord have I righteousness;" anrd " this is the
name whereby He shall be called, The Lord our righteousness."
The labor of a whole life directed to the object of establishing a
merit of our own, will only widen our distance from peace; and,
we know of nothing that will send this visitant to our agitated
bosoms, but a firm and simple reliance on these declarations.
The unbelief of man is the only obstacle which the mercy of God
in Christ has to struggle with; nor do we know of one other step
that is necessary, but an act of faith on the part of the sinner, that
this mercy may take its ample effect and fulfilment upon his person. It is simply by an act of believing, by a pure act of the
mind, that he enters into reconciliation, and a covenant is established, as steadfast and immutable as it is in the power of solemn
guarantees to make it-a covenant with only one tie, but that a
most sufficient one, to bind it, even the tie which subsists between
the faith of the creature, and the faithfulness of the Creator.
And it is for the purpose of presenting to our readers a full and
very able exposition of the truths on which we have been insisting,
that we have introduced into our Series of Christian Authors the
following Treatise, on " The Reign of Grace,from its rise to its
consummation," by ABRAHAM BOOTH, which we earnestly recommend to their attentive perusal, as one of the most powerful and
luminous, and comprehensive expositions of the dispensation of
grace with which we are acquainted. In this Treatise, they will
find the Gospel of the Grace of God exhibited in all the fulness
and freeness of its unrestricted offers of mercy, through the Saviour, to guilty man-in all the extent of its exuberant blessings,
in its rich provisions for deliverance from condemnation and guilt,
and restoration to the favor and friendship of God —in all the efficacy of its renovating and sanctifying influences in forming us to
holiness, and in assimilating us to the spirit and character of God
-and in all the benign and diversified operations, which a God
of infinite wisdom and love has fitted it to produce, by causing it
to reign unto eternal life through Jesus Christ, as made of God
unto us wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctification, and complete redemption.
Originating, as those blessings and privileges do, in this grace,
it is of mighty importance for us to ascertain, whether we have
closed with God on the terms of His own covenant, and thus have
been made partakers of this grace, and whether its reign has been
established in our hearts. And we cannot refer the reader, who
is in earnest about his salvation, to any Treatise better fitted than
that of Abraham Booth, to give him sure and satisfying evidences




344               BOOTH S REIGN OF GRACE.
for ascertaining the soundness and security of his hopes for eternity. He presents grace, as reigning through Jesus Christ unto
eternal life, to sinners; and he invites the chief of sinners, by
putting faith in the testimony of God, to lay hold of the offered
grace, and thus appropriate to themselves the blessings of pardon,
and peace, and justification, which God has provided through the
atonement and righteousness of Christ; and which, in the proclamations of the Gospel, are freely and unreservedly offered to all
who will. On this, the alone warrant of faith, he invites all to
enter into peace and reconciliation with God, and by judging Him
faithful who hath promised, to enjoy the blessedness of the man
whose sins are covered, and to whom the Lord does not impute
transgression.
But while faith in the free grace and offered pardon of the Gospel puts peace and joy into the heart of the believer, it is no less
fitted to produce purity and holiness. This, indeed is the tendency, as well as the main and ultimate design of the Gospel, and it
is on this account that we estimate so highly the Treatise we are
now recommending, that it so nobly vindicates the doctrines of
grace as doctrines according to godliness. And if there is any
portion of this work to which, more than another, we would particularly direct the attention of our readers, it is to those chapters
"On Grace as it reigns in our Sanctification," and " On the Necessity of Holiness and good Works."  There is, in the minds
of many, a fancied alliance between free grace and an immunity
to sin; that, since pardon is the free gift of God, through the
blood of the atonement, there is no restraint laid on men's inclinations to sin-that since we are justified wholly by the righteousness of another, the necessity of personal righteousness is as
wholly superseded-and that since we cannot earn heaven by our
own obedience, all the motives and securities for obedience are
removed. We have not room to attempt an exposure of this oftrepeated, but unfounded, assertion-an assertion, to which the
clearest averments of Scripture, and the experience of every true
believer, give the most triumphant refutation. And we count it
unnecessary to enter into any defence of the doctrines of grace
from the charge of licentiousness, after the able and unanswerable vindication which the present volume furnishes. We do not
indeed deny, that many professors of the Gospel give some color
for such an impeachment, by profaning that holy name by which
they are called, and by failing to adorn the doctrines of grace by
lives and conversations becoming the Gospel; but such men have
never felt the reign of grace in their hearts, otherwise it would
not have failed to teach them "to deny ungodliness and worldly
lusts, and to live soberly, righteously, and godly in the world;"
and, while such men repose a fancied confidence in the death of
Christ as their deliverance from condemnation, and as their passport




BOOTH S REIGN OF GRACE.              345
to heaven, they have utterly mistaken one of the main designs of
Christ's death, which was " to deliver us from all iniquity, and to
purify us unto Himself a peculiar people zealous of good works."
If heaven consists in God's manifesting the spiritual glories of His
holy and perfect character, then must our spirit and character be
kindred to His own, before we can delight in the love and contemplation of such glory. To love and enjoy God, we must be
like God. And they utterly mistake the design of the Gospel,
who conceive of it as a mere act of indemnity; and the Gospel has
not been believed by them at all, if it has not come to them in the
power and beneficence of holiness and grace, to change their
hearts and their affections into the love of what is holy, and
righteous, and excellent; nor can they entertain any well-founded
hopes of heaven hereafter, in whom there is no process of restoration going at present to the lost image of the Godhead, and in
whose hearts grace is not exerting its reigning power, to assimilate them to the spirit and character of God.
Whatever there may be now, in the days of Paul, at least, there
were men who turned the grace of God into licentiousness, and
who ranked among the privileges of the Gospel an immunity for
sin. And it is striking to observe the effect of this corruption on
the mind of the apostle;-that he who braved all the terrors of
persecuting violence, that he who stood undismayed before kings
and governors, and could lift his intrepid testimony in the hearing
of an enraged multitude-that he who, when bound by a chain
between two soldiers, still sustained an invincible constancy of
spirit, and could live in fearlessness, and triumph, with the dark
imagery of an approaching execution in his eye-that he who
counted not his life dear unto him, and whose manly breast bore
him up amidst all the threats of human tyranny, and the grim apparatus of martyrdom-that this man so firm and so undaunted,
wept like a child when he heard of those disciples that turned the
pardon of the cross into an encouragement for doing evil. The
fiercest hostilities of the Gospel's open enemies he could brave, but
when he heard of the foul dishonor done to the name of his Master, by the moral worthlessness of those who were the Gospel's
professing friends, this he could not bear —all that firmness, which
so upheld him unfaltering and unappalled in the battles of the faith,
forsook him then; and this noblest of champions on the field of
conflict and of controversy, when he heard of the profligacy of his
own converts, was fairly overcome by the tidings, and gave way
to all the softness of womanhood. When every other argument
fails, for keeping us on the path of integrity and holiness, we
should think of the argument of Paul in tears. It may be truly
termed a picturesque argument, nor are we aware of a more impressive testimony in the whole compass of Scripture, to the indispensable need of virtue and moral goodness in a believer, than
44




346              BOOTH'S REIGN OF GRACE.
is to be found in that passage where Paul says of these unworthy
professors of the faith, " For many walk, of whom I have told you
often, and now tell you even weeping, that they are the enemies
of the cross of Christ; whose end is destruction, whose god is
their belly, and whose glory is in their shame, who mind earthly
things."




INTRODUCTORY ESSAY
TO
SERIOUS REFLECTIONS ON TIME AND ETERNITY.
BY JOHN SHOWER.
AND
ON THE CONSIDERATION OF OUR LATTER END,
AND OTHER CONTEMPLATIONS.
BY SIR MATTHEW HALE, KNT.
THERE are certain truths, which lie remote from all direct and
immediate observation-and which require more than one step on
the part of the human mind, ere they are arrived at-which can
only, in fact, be reached by a reasoning process, that consists of
many steps; and for the describing of which, the habit of sustained attention, and the talent of sound and legitimate inference,
and the power of combining principles which are known, and
thence eliciting a truth or a doctrine that was unknown, must all
be summoned to the work, and be put into strenuous and continued exercise for days, or often for months together, ere the toils
of the devoted inquirer be rewarded by the discovery that he is in
quest of. There is much, for example, both of mathematical and
political science, which is incontrovertibly true, but which, instead
of being taken up at one act by the understanding, as if it lay on
the very surface of contemplation, can only be grasped into the
possession of the mind, by being travelled to through a long intermedium of many transitions and many arguments-and they are
only a gifted few who can bear the fatigues of such a journey,
and to whom the labors of the midnight oil afford a congenial
and much-loved employment, and who have had their intellectual
powers disciplined to the march of a logical or lengthened investigation. The Smith of the one science, and the Newton of the
other, afford very striking illustrations of this kind of mental superiority over the rest of the species-and in virtue of which they




348            SHOWER S SERIOUS REFLECTIONS.
were enabled to discover what before to the whole of mankind
was utterly unknown; and in virtue of which their followers are
enabled to see what the majority of mankind do not see. It is
only seen in fact from a summit of demonstration-and this is
only attained by a series of ascending movements-and the few
who have made their way to the temple which stands upon such
an eminence as this, find inscribed upon it " the temple of philosophy." Now, what we maintain is, that this is altogether distinct
from -"tn temple of wisdom." Its successful worshippers are men
of reacn    men of acquirement, and men who, from the elevation they have won, and on which they have posted themselves,
can command a farther prospect over some walk, or some domain
of the great intellectual territory, than their fellows around them.
And yet they are not on this account men of wisdom, nor have
we arrived at the true meaning and application of this epithet, if
we either think that to be wise we must be philosophers, or that,
if philosophers, we rm- therefore wise.
There are certain other truths, difficult of access, which are
distinct, and distinguishable we think from those that we have
just now adverted to-not such as are gained by a continuous
effort along a line of investigation-not such as come in view
upon the eye of the beholder, after he has scaled one of the altitudes of science —not such as lie remote, by being placed at a
distance, but such rather as lie hidden from common minds, because deeply enveloped under the surface of common observation.
To come at these, is not to plod and to persevere from one acquisition to another, as in the former instances. It is done by a process perhaps, too, in which all the elements of ratiocination are
concerned, but a process so rapid, as to be felt even by the owner
of the mind through which it passes, like an act of momentary intuition. Such is the quickness of his penetrating eye, that what
to others is a thick and impalpable veil, hides not from him the
truth or the principle which lurks beneath it-and with one
glance of perception, can he discern many of the secret things
which lie under the broad and ostensible face of human affairsand this faculty of his though certainly sharpened by cultivation,
and -cradled up to its present maturity among the varieties of experience and of life, is not of slow operation like the former, but
is sudden in all its exercises, and quite immediate in all the information which it fetches to its owner. One of its main offices is
to detect what is latent, and to ordinary minds, inaccessible in the
character of man. This it does not by any tardy movement of
the understanding, but by something like the tact of an instantaneous discernment, by the look of an instinctive sagacity, directed
towards any exhibition either in the countenance or in the conduct of another. It is this faculty which gives the eye of a lynx
to the satirist; and which endues, with all his readiness and address, the wily ambassador, who, himself unseen, can cast a uierc



SHOWER S SERIOUS REFLECTIONS.            349
ing intelligence through all the windings and intrigues of a cabinet; and which dexterously guides its possessor's way among
the politics of a city corporation; and which even achieves, as
wondrous triumphs as any of subtlety and skill among the severest
collisions, or the low jockeyship of a market. It is far more diffused than science and scholarship are through the various ranks
of society. You will meet with it in the homeliest walks of lifenay, sometimes, in all its perfection, under the guise, and in the
attitude, of a country simpleton. It is not confined to the chicanery of courts. For the play of as deep and as dexterous artifice
may be set agoing in the negotiations of private interest, as has
ever been recorded in the annals of diplomacy. And whether it
be swindling without the law, or swindling within the law, may
there be the same over-reach of one shrewder understanding over
the blind and unsuspecting confidence of another, in the contests
of ordinary trade, as in the contests of politics. The man who is
thus gifted, sees deeper than his fellows. He can read the vanity,
or the weakness, or the delicacy which are in another's heart, and
he can practise accordingly. It is true, that he may be thus wise
as a serpent, and yet harmless as a dove. But the mere wisdom
of the serpent is not true wisdom, in the soundest acceptation of
the term.  The epithet wise, according to its largest and its
soundest acceptation, is neither exemplified by him, who, by dint
of meditation, sees farthest into the secrets of philosophy, or
who, by dint of shrewd and oft-repeated observation, sees deepest
into the mysteries of our nature-nor have we yet reached the
conception of a truly wise man, if we think, that to be wise we
must be political, or, that if political, we are therefore wise.
The consideration of our latter end, which forms the principal
topic of the following volume, is that which the Scripture affirms
to be true wisdom. "Oh that they were wise, that they understood this, that they considered their latter end." But the truth
of our mortality, by the considering of which aright we are wise,
belongs neither to the former, nor to the latter classification. We
do not need to travel far in quest of its discovery. Neither do
we need to dive among the recesses of a profound observation,
that we may be able to fetch it up, and to appropriate it. It is a
truth which, on the very highway of ordinary life, forces itself on
the recognition of every man. That world, through which we
are all journeying, abounds in the sign-posts of mortality; and
many is the passing funeral which obtrudes this lesson upon our
eyes; and many are the notes of that funeral bell which tolls it
upon our hearing; —and well may the old, when they think of a
former generation, levelled and taken off by the hand of death,
learn how sure it is, that the living and busy society around them
will at length be swept away; —and even to the young, and those
the likeliest of us all, does death hang out its memorials, and gives
them to know that it wields an indiscriminating arm;-and even




350            SHOWER'S SERIOUS REFLECTIONS.
from those whom it spares the longest, and comes to the last, may
we learn how short a process of arithmetic it is which conducts
every one of us to our latter end,-and thus, through all the possible avenues of sense, and experience, and feeling, do such intimations multiply upon us, and these so plain and so powerful, and
ever and anon recurring with such pathos and in such frequency,
that, but to those who are sunk in idiotism, is it a lesson read and
recognized of all men. Nor is there a living man who does not
know, that the march of our actual generation is but one vast
progressive movement to the grave. It is not the acquirement
of new truths, but the right use and consideration of old ones,
which constitutes wisdom. It is not the discovery of what was
before unknown, which signalizes the wise man above his fellows.
It is the right and the rational application of what they know as
well as he, but which they do not reflect upon, and do not proceed upon as he.  It is not the man who outpeers his acquaintances in intellectual wealth, neither is it the man who outdoes
them in homebred sagacity-it is neither the one nor the other,
who, in the best, and most significant sense of the term, is the man
of wisdom. It is he, who acts upon the sureness of that which is
sure. It is he, who proceeds upon the reality of that which is
real. It is he, who feels greatness of desire after that which is
great, and smallness of desire after that which is small, and shapes
his doings to the actual dimensions of every object which is presented to his understanding. And neither is it necessary that, in
respect of understanding, he should have a capacity for more than
truths which are familiar to all, and are acknowledged of all. He
has not to go in quest of strange or distant novelties, but only to
trace to its right purpose that which is near to him, and within
reach of every man. In a word, he has not to learn that which
is known only to a few, he has only to consider that which is
known to all.  "O that they were wise, that they understood
this, that they would consider their latter end!"  He has not to
be taught the number of his days, but taught so to number them,
as to apply his heart unto wisdom.
He is not in the soundest physical condition, who lives on the
high-wrought delicacies of an artificial and expensive preparation;
but he, the organs of whose bodily constitution are best suited to
the bread and the water, and the universal aliments which nature
has provided for the healthful sustenance of her children. And
he is neither in the best spiritual, nor even in the best intellectual
condition, the faculties of whose soul are ever on the stretch after
lofty and recondite doctrine, or its appetite for knowledge pre-occupied with various and exquisite speculation-but he, who thrives
on the daily nourishment of such truth as is familiar to all-he,
whose clear and vigorous eye admits most copiously of that light,
which is poured around the orbit-he, the food of whose understanding is that common food which is most abundant, and would




SHOWER'S SERIOUS REFLECTIONS.           351
also be most salutary, but for the common disease that overspreads
the families of our species-he who, with no taste, and no capacity for what is remote or ingenious, rightly comprehends the truth
that is at hand, and goes not beyond the simple elements of being
in any of his mental exercises, but who, if right in these, has
reached a wisdom which philosophy cannot reach, and who, if
sound in his practical estimate of what is due to Time, and what
is due to Eternity, is a man of nobler aims, and far more solid and
exalted wisdom, than science can induce upon any of its votaries.
He lives not upon the niceties, but upon the staple of spiritual fare,
and his spiritual frame is thereby upheld in strength and in prosperity; and in the plain certainties of the coming death, and the
coming judgment, does he walk in a way more truly elevated,
than that which is trodden by any son of literary ambition; and
hence the impress of dignity and wisdom which we have seen to
sit on the aspect of him, who, the father of a cottage family, has
no respite from toil but the Sabbath, and no reading but his muchread Bible, and that authorship, of old and humble piety, which
lies in little room upon his shelves. To learn discriminatively
and justly what wisdom is, you have just to place the most brilliant and accomplished philosopher by the side of this venerable
sage of Christianity. The one knows much, but his is a knowledge
which terminates in itself. The other knows little, but his is a
knowledge which is turned to the purpose of his guidance here,
and his provision for eternity hereafter. Wisdom is not bare
knowledge. It is knowledge directed to its best and fittest, and
most productive application. Thus it is, that there may be much
knowledge without wisdom, and there may be much wisdom with
little knowledge. It is not he who knows most, who is most wise,
but he, who uses aright that which is known and familiar to all
men. For, let it be observed, that it is with spiritual as with natural food. The most useful ingredients of it are the most abundant. Men may refuse to partake of them, and starve and die,
and thus become, what the majority of our species actually aredead in trespasses and sins. To bring a man alive again from the
apparent death of nature, we never think of wooing back the departed senses by the offer of luxuries. But we admit a supply of
air, and try if we can breathe in this universal element; and make
use of cold water, which is to be had in every dwelling-place;
and ply his taste with some simple preparation; and could we restore him to the common enjoyment of these very commonest articles, we would be satisfied. And so it is in the case of spiritual
torpor. To call it back to sensibility, we would never think of
elaborate demonstration. But we would ring into our patient's
ear the message of death, which everybody knows, but few know
with application. We would try to awaken his inner man, by
the tidings of its immortality, which all profess to have faith in,
while scarcely any human being lives under the power of it. We




352            SHOWER S SERIOUS REFLECTIONS.
would sound the trump of alarm, and loudly speak of an angry
God and a coming vengeance, notes as familiar to his hearing as
is that of the wind of heaven which blows over him, while, in their
terror and in their urgency, they are as unfelt by the soul, as if its
ears of communication with a human voice were altogether closed.
We would deal forth upon him the simplicities of the Gospel-and
tell of sin and of the Sacrifice-intimations which may be as readily taken up by the peasant as by the philosopher-but which, until
roused from their carnal lethargy, are unlike unheeded by them
both. To recall them from such a paralysis as this, we would not
ply them with that which is severe and elaborate, but would, if
possible, quicken and revive them by that which is elementary.
And not he who is led on by argument to that which is remote,
but he who receives the touch of a quickening influence from that,
the certainty of which is obvious to all, while the sense of it is
nearly unfelt by all —he it is who hath attained the only true understanding —he it is who is wise unto salvation.
We cannot but perceive, how, while the doctrines of our faith
are plain, in opposition to what is recondite, not requiring, like the
difficulties of science, a prolonged and strenuous investigation-yet
still plain as they are, they need the influence of the Spirit for the
true understanding of them, just as a dead body needs the touch
of some miraculous personage, ere it can breathe the all-encompassing atmosphere, or use the universal elements, or be sustained
by the common bounties of nature. And so of the soul. It is not
by conducting it through any lengthened, or logical demonstration
of the schools. that we restore it to that intelligence, the possession
of which assures the possessor of life everlasting. It is by visiting
it with the manifestation of certain great and impending, but withal
simple realities. The wisdom which is thus gotten, is altogether
distinct from the wisdom of philosophy-hidden in fact from many
such wise, and many such prudent, and revealed unto babes.
Let us just look to the practical habit of nature, and see that, in
the face of the clearest and plainest arithmetic, it gives a superiority to the present over the future world, and then may we acknowledge, that if it be needful to heal the diseased eyes of the
blind, ere they can see of the common light, or to heal the diseased
lungs of the consumptive, ere they can breathe aright of the common air, or to heal the diseased constitution of the sickly, ere they
can turn into aliment the common food of all men,-so is it equally
needful that a physician's hand be laid upon our diseased spirits,
ere they be nourished by truths so palpable, as that eternity is
greater than time, and the enjoyment of God in heaven, greater
than that of all those earthly blessings which he causes to descend
on our fleeting pilgrimage.
We know not on whom it is, that the burden of this sore disease
still lies, in all its native aggravation, or from whom it has been
taken away. We can only address our admonitions to the reader




SHOWER S SERIOUS REFLECTIONS.            353
at a venture. It is like the shooting of an arrow among a multitude, when who knows what individual will be struck by it? It
is under the declaration of the truth, that a child of darkness becomes a disciple of light. But even the same truth which awakens
the former, is the very truth which needs to be repeated, again
and again, in the hearing of the latter, to keep him awake. The
pure mind must be stirred up in the way of remembrance. And
it is not enough that truth be received at the first; in the language
of the Bible, it must also be considered. The food which is taken
in is of no use, unless, by a digestive process, it be turned into aliment. Truth is the food of the soul. We receive it by faith.
But if we keep it not in memory, we, in the words of the apostle, have believed in vain.  The shortness of life, and the certainty
of its approaching extinction, may come upon the spirit in a powerful, but momentary visitation. This gleam of light must be
brightened, and sustained, and perpetuated. It must be kept alive
amid the shock of many rude and adverse elements. It must
shine as a lamp upon all our paths. The converse of this world's
companies should not darken it. The heat and the hurry of our
daily business should not stifle it. That sorrow which worketh
death, should not swallow it up into the oblivion of our immortality, nor should the still more dangerous gale of prosperity blow this
pure and sacred flame into utter annihilation. It is not enough
that we acknowledge the truth at stated times; we must give
earnest heed to it, lest at any time we should let it slip. It is not
enough that we should know our latter end-nor has our understanding of this been advanced into true wisdom, till it be our care
and our habit to consider our latter end.
The practical habit of our souls ought to be a habit of anticipation, and of anticipation reaching even unto death, and to the immortality which lies beyond it. A realizing sense of what that is,
which a coming futurity is to bring with speed, and perhaps with
suddenness, to our doors, would change the habit and posture of
the soul altogether. Could we only figure to our imaginations the
ebbing, and the quivering, and the agony of death, and then charge
ourselves with the certainty that death is coming,-could we be
ever looking onwards to the day when the last trumpet shall call
us from our graves to the judgment-seat, and give a settled home
in our bosoms to the truth of this awful revelation, that judgment
is coming,-could we carry our frequent and daily thoughts to the
margin of eternity, and, after contrasting the delight and the dreariness of its two immeasurable rigions, with the interests of that
short-lived day which separates the morning from the evening of
our existence in the world, consider how surely, on the rapid wing
of succession, eternity is coming,-and simple as these ponderings
are, let them just enter with the power which they ought, and in
the new complexion which they cast on all that is intermediate
between us and eternity, and they will both give us other minds,,
45




354            SHOWER S SERIOUS REFLECTIONS.
and make other men of us. These truths are plain enough for the
peasant-but there is in them a challenging authority, which
reaches even unto the prince. They are fit for the homeliest understandings. Yet homely as they are, may they be offered to
men of all ranks, and all classes in society, and they do look hard
upon the pursuits of our existing generation. With so mighty
an instrument of demonstration, as the calculus of those months
that will soon pass away, and of those years that are so easily
summed up, do we bring the lesson of our mortality to bear upon
them. And be they the children of wealth, resting their security
on that corruptible foundation, of which gold and silver are
the materials,-or be they children of poverty, who think that
they have lost their all, because, without a portion in time, they
have cast eternity, as a thing of worthlessness, away from them,
-or, in a word, be their condition what it may, let them be of
that innumerable multitude who use the world not as a road, but
as a residence,-we tell them that they are carnally-minded, and
if not arrested on the way, they are fast posting to that death
which is the doom of all who are so. Awaken, awaken, from
these manifold delusions by which nature is encompassed! —and
seek to be spiritually-minded, that you may have life and peace.
So closely allied is the consideration of our latter end with the
very essence of wisdom, that we know not a likelier expedient for
shutting us up, and that immediately, unto Christ-unto Him, who
is called the wisdom of God as well as the power of God —unto
Him, in comparison of the excellency of whose knowledge all was
but loss, in the estimation of the apostle; insomuch that he determined to know nothing save Jesus Christ and Him crucified.
What is it that makes us tarry in the great work of seeking a
secure righteousness before God? It is because we feel secure
enough in the meantime with the possession of health, and the
enjoyment of a warm and well-sheltered home, and the engrossments of business, and the delights of a gay, and pleasing, and
varied companionship. These, mixed up with a tolerable sense
of our own deficiencies, and our own duties, serve altogether to
make us easy in this evil world, and to keep off from our imaginations all that can give dread or disturbance in the thought of
another world. The truth is, that in these circumstances, and
with these feelings, the question, " Wherewithal shall I appear
before God?" is never seriously entertained. It does not come
upon the mind with the urgency of a matter in hand,-and, in
reference to the undoubted fact, that the most earthly men are also
the most inimical to that doctrine which affirms the ground of our
evangelical acceptance before God, we believe the secret but substantial explanation of the whole matter to be, that the soul which
keeps a firm hold upon time, is careless and thoughtless about the
goodness of its foundation for eternity, He likes this world best,
and if he make good a portion here, he will not trouble himself




SHOWER S SERIOUS REFLECTIONS.            355
with any nice or scrupulous examination of what that is, which
makes the best title-deed for an inheritance hereafter. And this
will explain a fact which we think must be familiar to many —the
very summary process upon which a man of the world comes to his
easy and agreeable conclusion on the question of his eternity —the
very comfortable balance which he strikes between his good points
and his bad ones-so as to set aside all his sins from the final result of this computation, and bring into view nothing but his hu.
manities and his virtues, on which to rear a confidence before
God. It is not by fully tracing, but, in the language of parliament,
by blinking the question, that he comes to a deliverance which is
satisfying enough to his mind about the world at a distance, amid
so much to satisfy him, in the visible and surrounding world with
which he has presently to do. It makes all the difference, between
the earnestness of our preparation to meet the creditor, who threatens instant diligence upon our person, and the creditor whose application for payment we can, by an act of the fancy, put off, and
postpone to an indefinite distance awav from us. And next time
you see a thriving, prosperous, good-humored man of the world
evince his hatred of the doctrine of faith, and of all that is said
about acceptance in Christ, and a right basis of justification before the eye of the Lawgiver-before you admit the soundness
of his notions about a safe and sufficient passport to eternity-consider well whether eternity be at all a matter of concern with him
— and whether it is not the entertainment of sense which gives
him all his delight, and the business of sense which gives him all
his occupation.
Now, conceive the two elements of eternity and time to be so
revealed to his soul, as to stand in their just and naked proportion
before him. Conceive, that the one is seen advancing in nearness
and magnitude towards him, and the other as fast flitting into
evanescence away. Conceive the scales so to fall from his eyes,
that, through all the delusions which the god of this world spreads
over the surface of what is present and visible, he beholds the
impressive mockery which death stamps upon every enjoyment
that is on this side of it; and feels, that if he fall short of the enjoyment which is on the other side of it, he is undone. Let all this
be only mixed up with a right sense of sin and of the Saviourand not one moment will intervene, ere, under the curse and consciousness of the one, he seeks for deliverance from the other.
Let him thus be made to hear the footsteps of the last messenger
-and he will feel all the urgency of a present claim and of a
present creditor at his door; and he will be driven to the necessity of a present settlement, and he will not be so easily set at rest
about the footing upon which he stands. His search for securities,
will be the search of a man in earnest; and a real practical earnestness is all that we require —assured, as we are, that the man
who is truly seeking for a foundation, will not be satisfied till he




356            SHOWER S SERIOUS REFLECTIONS.
finds a solid one; and that out of the frail materials of human
virtue no such foundation can be formed; and that an obedience,
rendered without heart, and mixed up with all the infirmities both
of forgetfulness and pollution, will never quiet the conscience of
him who has at all been visited by a realizing sense of these
things.  Thus it is, that to consider our latter end is to tread on
one of the likeliest pathways to the Saviour. Nor do we know
a more effectual way of being prompted forward to that place of
refuge-where we shall find a blood to wash away our guilt, and
a righteousness that can never fail us. So that, could we only
demonstrate with power, how short-lived the period, and how
tottering the basis of all earthly enjoyments, we should not despair
of soon finding the alarmed sinner within his secure resting-place,
on that foundation which God hath laid in Zion.
There is often, in the pencilled descriptions of the moralist, a
kind of poetical and high-wrought imagery thrown around the
chamber of death; and that, whether it be the terrors of guilt, or
the triumphs of conscious virtue, which are conceived to mark
this closing scene of' our history in the world. It is well to know
what the plain and experimental truth is, upon the subject. In
the case of a worldly and alienated life, the remorse is not nearly
so pungent, the apprehensions not nearly so vivid and terrifying,
the impression of future and eternal realities not nearly so overpowering, as we are apt to fancy upon such an occasion. The
truth is, that as it was throughout the whole of his living, so it is
generally in dying. He is still engrossed with present and sensible things; and there is positively nothing in the mere approach
of dissolution that can raise up the ascendency of faith, or render
him less the slave of sight, and of the body, than he was before.
There is the present pain, there is the present thirst, there is the
present breathlessness; and if, amid the tumults of his earthly
fabric giving way, and the last irregular movements of its deranged mechanism  fast drawing to their cessation, he send for
the minister to soothe him by his prayers, even he forms but one
of the present varieties. There is no actual going forth of the
patient's mind towards the things which are above. The faith
which he has so long shut out, does not now force its entrance
into a bosom, habituated to the reception of no other influences,
than what the world, and the things of the world, have so long
exercised over him. We may see torpor upon such an occasion,
and call it serenity. We may witness an uncomplaining silence,
and call it resignation. We mav never hear one note of alarm to
drop from the lips of the dying sufferer; and therefore say that
he met with Christian fortitude his end. But all these may meet
upon a death-bed; and yet, the positive confidence of looking
forward to heaven as a home, a positive rejoicing in the hope of
the glory of God, a believing, and a knowing, that " when the
earthly house of this tabernacle is dissolved, they shall have a




SHO-WER'S SERIOUS REFLECTIONS.            357
building of God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the
heavens," may never enter his bosom. There may be the peacefulness of insensibility, even while the life of him who has been a
stranger to the faith of the Gospel is waning to its extinction-but
a peace mixed up with the elevation of such prospects as these, is
never felt, apart from the thought of Christ as "the Lord our
righteousness."  It is altogether a romance to talk of such anticipations of triumph, to him who looks back upon his own obedience,
and then looks forward to his rightful and his challenged reward.
If we want our dying hour to have the radiance of heaven's gate
thrown over it-if we want, amid the failure of expiring nature,
to have some firm  footing, on which we might strongly and
securely rest; there is positively none other, but that to which
the consideration of our latter end should now be urging us forward —and, therefore, should we call upon ourselves now to take
up with Christ as our foundation, and to associate all our confidence in God, with the obedience which he has wrought, with
the ransom which he has rendered.
~We cannot better enforce these solemn considerations on the
minds of our readers, with the view of shutting them up to thq
faith that is in Christ, than by referring them to SHOWER'S " Serious Reflections on Time and Eternity," and Sir MATTHEW HALE
" On the consideration of our Latter End."  In SHOWER'S excellent Treatise, they will find the serious reflections of a mind,
which, by the habit of solemn consideration, and the exercise of
a vigorous faith, habitually felt the power and the reality of those
important truths, respecting which mankind in general maintain
an obstinate, and almost incurable heedlessness. There is scarcely
any form of words, or any mode of computation, or any point of
contrast, which he has not employed, to give the reader a vivid
and substantive impression of the littleness of Time, and the
greatness of Eternity.  The truths on which he insists, are truths
of the plainest and most elementary kind; but thoroughly aware
that the practical consideration of them constitutes the essence of
true wisdom, he endeavors, by the most forcible arguments, and
the most touching appeals, and the most persuasive earnestness,
to arrest mankind in their career of thoughtlessness and unconcern, and to turn their resolute and sustained attention to the
consideration of their latter end, and so to number their days, that
they may apply their hearts to that highest of all wisdom-a
preparation for the coming eternity; and with the real and tender
solicitude of men in earnest, lay to heart those things which pertain to their everlasting peace, ere time be hid from their eyes.
The "' Consideration of our Latter End," and the other kindred
pieces of Sir MATTHEW HALE, are not only marked by the same
solemn earnestness, but possess all that graphic power of thought,
and depth of experimental feeling, which characterize the writings
of this extraordinary man. The character and writings of this




358             SIIOWER'S SERIOUS REFLECTIONS.
great and good man have already been adverted to in a former
Essay in this series of " Select Christian Authors,"* which precludes the necessity of our entering into any farther exposition of
them. But we cannot help observing, that if Sir MATTHEW HALE,
whose genius and learning rendered him one of the most distinguished ornaments of his age, and whose character and wisdom
still associate him  in England's best remembrances, with the
noblest of her worthies, counted it a wisdom superior to all human learning, to consider his latter end-and if; amidst the numerous and important avocations of that high official station
which he occupied, rendered still more arduous and difficult, by
the anarchy and confusion of that revolutionary period in which
he lived, this good man was not unmindful to address those monitory lessons to his countrymen, which we now present anew, as
salutary admonitions to the present generation, —then have we a
testimony to the worth and surpassing excellence of this wisdom,
above all the acquisitions of science and philosophy, which cannot
be disregarded, without incurring the imputation of folly. Science
and human learning we hold in high estimation, and let them be
diffused throughout every corner of our land; but what we affirm
is, that they do not meet the necessities of man's moral constitution. The man of science may be rich in all these acquisitions,
and yet be destitute of that knowledge which forms a right preparation for the duties of time, or a sound preparation for the glories of eternity; while the humble peasant, whose mind has never
been illuminated with science, may be illustrious in wisdom of a
far higher order, and, by turning the consideration of his latter
end to its right and practical use, may have attained to that knowledge in which the apostle determined alone to glory, "the knowledge of Jesus Christ and him crucified."
It is the great design of such a consideration, to lead us to that
Gospel which is fieely offered to all. But though the Gospel be
offered freely, it only becomes ours by our receiving it freely;
and seldom is it so received by him who, after being laid on the
bed of his last sickness, has still a Saviour to seek, instead of a
Saviour to enjoy.  The evil heart of unbelief, which he has cherished through life, cleaves to him, and keeps its hold till the last
hour of it; and, therefore, never does the mind entertain a delusion more ruinous, never is eternity placed on a more desperate
stake, than by those who put away from them now the offers of
salvation, and think that then they shall have it for the taking. It
is the part, then, of all to look forthwith and earnestly to the Saviour-to contemplate him in his revealed offices-to make a real
and intelligent work of closing with him-to receive him as their
atonement-to render allegiance to him as their Lord and their
Proprietor —and submit themselves unto Him, that he might rule
* Judge Hale on the Knowledge of Christ Crucified, and other Divine Contemplations, with an Introductory Essay, by the Rev. David Young.




SHOWER'S SERIOUS REFLECTIONS.          359
in them by his Spirit, and over them by his Law. Whether they
be the unconverted, who have yet to lay hold of Christ, or the
already converted, whose business it is to keep that hold-we
know not how the consideration of their latter end can be turned
more substantially to the purposes of wisdom and of true understanding, than by leading them supremely to prize, and immediately to acquire, that knowledge of Jesus Christ our Lord, which
is life everlasting




INTRODUCTORY ESSAY
TO THE
CHRISTIAN'S DEFENCE AGAINST INFIDELITY;
CONSISTING OF,
1. LESLIE'S SHORT AND EASY METHOD WITH THE DEISTS.
2. LYTTLETON'S OBSERVATIONS ON ST. PAUL.
3. DODDRIDGE'S EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY.
4. BATES ON THE DIVINITY OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION.
5. OWEN ON THE SELF-EVIDENCING LIGHT OF SCRIPTURE.
6. BAXTER ON THE DANGER OF MAKING LIGHT OF CHRIST
THERE are several ways in which a man, who practises the art
of divination, might try to make good his pretensions to this supernatural endowment. He might do so by attempting to pronounce on the kind and the quantity of money which I have about
my person. He might pass a confident utterance on a matter
that is hidden from every human eye but my own, even on the
number and the character of those pieces of coin which I am
carrying about with me,-and this description of his may be rigidly true, in all its varied particulars,-and at different times may
he make distinct and repeated trials of the same kind, and succeed
in every one of them. And surely it is conceivable, that these
examples of an unfailing coincidence, between what he says, and
what I myself know of the subject, may be so striking, and so
multiplied, and so obviously free of all the symptoms and all the
preparations of jugglery, as to leave upon my mind, not merely a
firm, but also a most just and rational conviction, that the man is
what he pretends to be; that there is a reach of discernment
about him, beyond all that is known of the powers or the principles of nature; that in fact, he has established himself to be a miraculous personage, and by evidence, too, of such a kind, as, with
a man of sober and enlightened judgment, might be altogether
irresistible.
Now, it is to be remarked of such evidence, that, in the main
strength of it, and in the proper and original impression of it, it is
addressed exclusively to myself. I may make known to others
the whole history of this wonderful transaction. I may report to




THE CHRISTIAN'S DEFENCE AGAINST INFIDELITY.    361
them all the cases of successful divination which have been accomplished upon me. But still the evidence of these cases has to
pass through the intervening medium of my testimony. Before
that others can feel the same power of evidence with myself, they
must be made to undergo the same treatment; or the same divination must be practised successively and individually upon each
of them. They may choose to discredit my testimony. They
may distrust my powers of memory and observation. They may
suspect a collusion between me and an artful pretender. They
may look upon me as a man either of dishonest purpose, or of
diseased imagination. They may muster up a thousand posgsibilities, to ward away from them a conviction, which I know and
am assured to be a just one. And thus it is that I may, on the
one hand, be surrounded by the incredulity of all my fellows, and
I may be assailed, in every direction, by the imputations of falsehood or fanaticism; and yet, with the personal access I have had
to an evidence to which none of my acquaintances have been admitted, and with a proper confidence in the soundness of my own
recollections, and with the sense of a single-minded integrity
throughout the whole of this business, I may, on the other hand,
though accosted at every turn by the ridicule and the reproaches
of my acquaintances, be fully warranted to place my immovable
confidence in him with whom I have held the intercourse of all
these intimate and peculiar communications.
But let us now vary the supposition, and conceive that our extraordinary personage embarks his pretensions on another and a
higher species of divination; that, instead of attempting to divine
the money which is in my pocket, he attempts to divine the
thoughts which are in my heart; that, laying claim to the wondrous prerogative of supernaturally knowing what is in man, he
offers to scrutinize my mind, and to read to me the varied characters which, in the shape of opinion, and desire, and ruling passion, and prevailing infirmity of temper, stand engra.ven in its
chamber of imagery; that he unfolds to me the workings of my
own soul, and lays before me a picture of the inner man, that can
be vividly recognized by the eye of my own conscience; that he
proves to me, how this little world of self, with all its affections
and its tendencies, which stand so hidden from general observation, by a thick and an impalpable veil, is altogether naked and
open before him; that he makes me perceive, by his insight into
the thoughts and intents of my heart, how he is indeed a most
skilful and a most enlightened discerner; that, by his piercing inspection into the secrecies of my bosom, he can so divide asunder
my soul and spirit, as to make every one of them manifest in his
sight. Why, is it not conceivable, that in this way, too, there
may be multiplied upon me the instances of a penetration far
above the powers of humanity; that every new case of such a
divination may serve to strengthen my confidence in him who
46




362     THE CHRISTIAN'S DEFENCE AGAINST INFIDELITY.
performs it; and that, at length, I may be so overpowered by the
evidence which he thus brings to bear upon me, as to give my full
consent to all his pretensions, and to embark my every prospect,
and my every determination, on his authority, as a messenger
from God?
And yet, when I do so, I do it upon the strength of evidence,
directed individually to myself. I cannot make another man the
partaker of this evidence. I cannot possibly put him upon that
station of advantage which I occupy. I cannot translate into his
bosom my own direct and immediate consciousness of the movements which are going on in my bosom; nor can I furnish
him with a window of observation, through which he may note
the coincidence between those divinations which have been attempted on my mind, and my mind, which is the subject of these
divinations. I am the only man living who can be made directly
to perceive this coincidence, and to me exclusively and appropriately belongs the main strength of the evidence that is founded
upon it. There lies an impassable barrier between me and my
next-door neighbor, in virtue of which I find it impossible to make
a full or an adequate communication of this evidence to him.
There may be divinations conceived, where the subject of them
is equally accessible to all men. But the peculiarity of the divination that I am now insisting on, is, that the subject of it is accessible only to the individual on whom it is practised. Ere my
neighbor can possess the evidence which it affords, he must be
made the subject of a distinct divination. Before this takes place,
he has nothing to rest upon but my testimony, which he may reject as false, or which he may deride as fanciful, or which he may
utterly despise, as symptomatic of folly and of superstitious weakness. Still, however, in the face of all this, I may obstinately adhere to my own conviction, and be right in doing so. My contemptuous neighbor has no access to the materials upon which my
judgment is founded. He cannot bring himself into a state of
contiguity with my mind, nor obtain such a view of its workings,
as to see how good the evidence is that I have for my conviction;
nor, until he has forced his way within the penetralia of the inner
chamber, will I, with a right sense of my integrity, and a right
confidence in my judgment, hold him entitled to pronounce it a bad
evidence. I alone have access to the depositions of my own consciousness. And I have faith in their veracity. And I can judge
of the accordancy between them, and the divinations of the man
who calls himself a prophet. And I may see it to be an accordancy so close, and so minutely variegated, and so often exemplified, and so sustained throughout all the successions of my experience and my history, that, believing it to be miraculous, I may
say, and say with justness, that surely God is in him of a truth.
And thus may I exhibit, not merely an inflexible, but a sound and
philosophically consistent faith, even in circumstances where,




THE CHRISTIAN S DEFENCE AGAINST INFIDELITY.     363
abandoned by the sympathy of all my fellows, I am traduced as
a hypocrite, or reviled as an enthusiast.
There is something to confirm all this in Scripture history.
Our Saviour, in the course of His conversation with the woman
of Samaria, achieved upon her a work of divination. He read
to her a passage out of her present and her by-gone history; and
she was so far impressed with the circumstance, as to say, " Sir,
I perceive that thou art a prophet." She repeated the circumstance to her countrymen; and it is recorded, that some of them
bore such respect to her testimony, that they believed on Jesus,' for the saying of the woman, which testified, He told me all that
ever I did." But though some, not all; for it is further said, that
"' many more believed because of his own word." True, it is not
said that this word carried the same kind of evidence to them,
that it did to the woman of Samaria.  It is not said, that, disbelieving her testimony, they were at length made to believe, by
means of a similar divination practised upon themselves. But we
may, at least, gather from the passage, that the evidence on which
their faith rested did not lie in any external miracle. This is not
what they alleged as the ground of their faith. But they " said to
the woman, Now we believe, not because of thy saying; for we
have heard him ourselves, and know that this is indeed the Christ,
the Saviour of the world."
But any deficiency of information in this passage, is amply
made up in other passages. The miracle of tongues, for instance,
held out to the notice of the world, by the first teachers of Christianity, should have compelled the attention of all whom they addressed, to the subject-matter of their testimony. A few moments
of serious and candid examination, would have convinced them
of such a reality in this exhibition, as entitled the first preachers
of the Gospel to a- further and a respectful hearing. But there
were many in those days who wanted this seriousness and this
candor; and they passed a rejection so summary upon the message that was proposed, that they would not even listen to the
terms of it; and they put it away from them at the very threshold
of its earliest intimations; and we are, accordingly, told by the
apostle, that the gift of tongues, instead of exciting their inquiry,
excited their ridicule, insomuch, that they pronounced those who
exercised it to be mad; and we also read of certain despisers,
who, upon the very same exhibition, said, mocking, that "these
men are full of new wine;" and thus it is that they persisted in
their unbelief, and wondered, and perished. Now, the way in
which we understand the gift of tongues to have been a sign unto
them, is, that it sealed their condemnation. It convicted them of
a dishonest partiality on the side of falsehood. It made the Gospel the savor of death unto death unto them.  The sign of
tongues was a sign which they spake against; and this wilful,
perverse, unfair, and, at all hazards, determined opposition, drew




364     TIlE CHIRISTIAN S DEFENCE AGAINST INFIDELITY.
upon them the fulfilment of such sayings, as, that unless those
works had been done among them which had never been done
before, they had not had sin; and that it would be more tolerable
for Sodom and Gomorrah in the day of judgment, than for those
who witnessed such miracles, but who so loved the darkness
rather than the light, as to resist the impression of them.
Thus much for those who believed not. And as to those who
believed, it does not appear to us that it was the miracle of
tongues, or indeed any external miracle whatever, which wrought
in them the saving faith of the New Testament. A previous
miracle might, in many cases, have been the instrument by which
their attention was gained: but we think that the evidence upon
which their conversion hinged, beamed upon their minds from
the subject-matter of the testimony. It was in the act of listening to what is called the prophecy, or, (taking this term according to its undoubted sense in many passages of Scripture,) it was
in the act of listening to the exposition of Christian doctrine, that
they felt the impression of that evidence which we have already
insisted on —even the evidence of such a divination as was bevond
all that could be accomplished by the sagacity of man. The
truth of what the apostles told them was made manifest to their
consciences. What their Christian teachers said they were, they
felt themselves to be; and they recognized the coincidence, and
they were arrested by it. They gave them credit for a supernatural commission, when they discerned such a reach of penetration into the secrecy of their bosoms, as they judged to be
supernatural.  And the evidence they thus obtained, was not
diluted by its transmission upon a vehicle of testimony, from the
experience of one man to the hearing of another man. All who
believed shared in the same experience.  Each of them  was
made the subject of a separate divination. Each carried home
the word spoken, and found it totally with all that he perceived
of his own character. The evidence came with the whole force
of its powerful and primitive impression upon every conscience.
And we think that nothing more needs to be said, in order to understand the kind of influence by which, when the first teachers
prophesied, or expounded their message and their doctrine, " and
there came in one that believed not, or one unlearned, he was
convinced of all, he was judged of all: and thus were the secrets
of his heart made manifest; and so, falling down on his face, he
worshipped God, and reported that God was in them of a truth."
But these gifted teachers of our faith not only spoke to the
men of their own age, they also wrote for the men of other ages.
They have left behind them an enduring memorial of their doctrine and their testimony. They have graven it on an imperishable record; and we know not a more deeply interesting question, within the whole compass of Theology, than —Whether.
while the word of the apostles is thus transmitted by writing, the




THE CHRISTIAN S DEFENCE AGAINST INFIDELITY.     365
evidence which lay in that word at its first and its oral delivery,
is transmitted along with it to succeeding generations?  May
we, in the reading of that word, gather the same evidence for its
truth, which the unbelievers, and the unlearned in the apostolic
age, did in the hearing of it? In one short sentence, Has this
evidence descended?  Has it been actually translated into the
pages of the Bible? Does this book stand to us in the place of
its human composers, who have long ere now been consigned to
the silence of the grave? Can it do by itself now, what they
personally, and of themselves, did then? Can it evince such a
power of' divination into the secrecies of the heart, as to bear,
upon its own forehead, the attestation of God being in it of a
truth? An unlettered man of the present day, knows nothing of
its external evidence. He is an utter stranger to the erudition
and the history of the eighteen hundred years which have elapsed,
since the first promulgation of Christianity in the world. It is all
a dark and an unknown interval to him. Nor can he fetch a
single argument, for the establishment of his faith, from across an
abyss which looks so obscure and so fathomless. Now the question is —May he fetch any such argument from the book itself?
When, in the act of reading it, the word is brought nigh unto him,
is there anything within it by which it can announce its own authority, and hold out, to a simple and untaught reader, the light
of its own evidence?  Does the word written inherit all the
powers of the word spoken? Does there emanate from the doctrine, as recorded by the apostles, that virtue to arrest, and to
carry the conviction, which actually did emanate from the same
doctrine, as told by the apostles? Insomuch, that the Bible shall
be not merely the messenger of its own contents, but shall also be
the messenger of its own credentials: that wherever it goes, it
shall bear abroad with it the legible and the satisfying inscription
of its own truth; that by the light which beams from its pages, it
shall make known the celestial character which it wears, and the
celestial origin from which it sprung; that it shall emit, upon
every side of it. the lesson of its rightful authority; and that,
though it borrowed not one particle of aid from the skill and the
scholarship of its controversial defenders, it shall be able to speak
for itself, to find its way even among the humblest of our cottages,
to reclaim, and to convince, and to enlighten their darkest population, and to put the stamp of a sound and a clear intelligence
on all the discipleship which it earns among them.
We do not see how we could have abridged our observations
at any former point of this argument; and, after all, have we only
arrived on the margin of a vast and untrodden field, and feel ourselves placed on the mere threshold of a subject far too big and
too unwieldly for the present Essay. We will not attempt the
impossibility of entertaining the question we have just now started,
in such a way as to meet the every doubt, and to pursue the every




366     THE CHRISTIAN S DEFENCE AGAINST INFIDELITY.
illustration, and at length to bestow upon our argument its complete and conclusive establishment.  We firmly believe, that there
is no one position in Theology, which can be more strongly and
more philosophically sustained, than the self-evidencing power of
the Bible. For a full and satisfactory exposition of this subject,
we must refer our readers to Dr. Owen's Treatise, in the present
volume, "On the Self-Evidencing Light and Power of the Scriptures," and all we shall do, at present, is just to bring forward as
much, in the way of remark, as we have room for, on the important point which has been suggested.
When this evidence first dawns on the mind of an inquirer,
there is one striking point of accordancy which generally offers
itself to his contemplation; even that accordancy which subsists
between the inward experience of his own heart, and the outward
description of it that is laid before him in the Bible; and is, in fact,
like the exact correspondence which obtains between the cipher
and the thing to be deciphered. There is no one announcement
which the Bible maintains more steadily, and which it keeps by
more perseveringly, and which, in opposition to all the wisdom of
this world, and to all the delusion and vanity of the people who
live in it, is it ever holding forth more fearlessly, and more unrelentingly, than the utter alienation and worthlessness of man in
reference to God. It makes the entire corruption of our species
the basis of its system. It never either questions or qualifies this
position; but takes it up, and proceeds upon it; and we recognize it at every turn as the great and the pervading element of
Christianity. And when a man, unwarped from all the influences
by which he has hitherto been blinded, looks inwardly upon himself, and perceives that it is really so,-when enabled to pierce
his way through all those plausibilities of character which have
hitherto lulled him into a deceitful security, he is made to see how
utterly devoid he is of what may be called the main or the elemental principle of righteousness, even a principle of allegiance
to God, —when it becomes evident to him, that at the very moment
that the virtues of instinct or of natural endowment, throw a lustre of moral accomplishment around him, and draw upon his person the eye and the homage of society, he is neither thinking of
the God who made him, nor making His will the standard of obedience; but, with the full bent of his affections to the creature
rather than to the Creator, he is in fact making the world that divinity to which he renders the incense of a perpetual offering;
and withholding his heart from Him who claims the ascendency
over all its desires, and giving it up in unreserved devotedness to
the idols of sense and of time. Why, when he thinks of this as
the very turning point of the controversy between God and His
creatures; that to do this is to trample on the authority of the first
and the greatest commandment; that let him be kind or amiable,
or generous or upright, there is that universal attribute of the car



THE CHRISTIAN S DEFENCE AGAINST INFIDELITY.    367
nal mind, even enmity against God, which spreads itself over the
whole system of his feelings, and deeply infuses the vey best of
them with the guilt and the malignity of sin, —when he contrasts
his forgetfulness of God, and his utter indifference to God, with the
weight of those unnumbered obligations that he owes to Him who
called him into being, and who enriched him with all his faculties,
and who gives him every breath, and whose right hand upholds
him continually,-when thus enabled to descry, through the mists
of a pride that is now mortified, and the false brilliancies of an imagination that is now arrested, how, with a heart withheld from
God, he in fact has been carrying about with him, from the first
infancy of his recollection, the very seed and principle of rebellion
against his Maker, —when he comes to see all this, and, furthermore, to see how the same lesson, which his now enlightened experience is reading to him, in characters so distinct and so vigorous in his own person, stands engraven as vigorously and as distinctly on the record of Scripture; how the very thing has all
along been most firmly, and in the face of this world's resistance,
stated in his Bible, which is now opening upon his conviction, from
the clearer view that he now takes of the lineaments of his own
heart. Is it, after all this, to be looked at as a mystery, that he
should proffer his respect to a volume which tells him what no
other volume ever told him, but which he now sees, by his own
discernment, to be true; that he should feel constrained towards
that book in which he has found such an exact image of himself,
as is not to be found within the whole range of human literature; or
when an utterance of the Bible thus meets with its counterpart in
his own bosom, and it be an utterance which nature never could
have prompted, because revolting to all the pride and to all the
sagacity of nature, shall he be any longer suspended in doubt or
in amazement, though so convinced and so judged, and with the
secrets of his heart so made manifest, his belief should at length
be overpowered by this and sitnilar instances of such a wondrous
divination?
There is no room for dilating on other instances, or for describing the whole compass of Scripture, with the view of pointing out
the every passage from which there glances, on the reader whose
eyes have been opened, this evidence of divination. We cannot
show how the very offer of such a Saviour as can alone quell the
apprehensions of sinful nature, and makes the conscience feel at
peace with God, is virtually in itself an act of divination-or how
the distaste of nature for the truths of the Gospel, a distaste asserted
in the records of the Gospel itself, forms another striking example
of divination-or how the way in which this distaste is made to
give place to a spiritual relish, and a spiritual discernment of these
things, tallies with other verses of the Bible, and goes to swell
and to multiply the evidences of divination-or how the actual
revolution, felt by every believer whose heart is now open to the




368     THE CHRISTIAN S DEFENCE AGAINST INFIDELITY.
charm and the significancy of that which he at one time recoiled
from in nauseous antipathy, forms an argument here of a weightier
character than that of divination. We cannot venture at present
on so wide a field: the evidence is in fact too abundant for it.
The number of verses is too great which exhibits a harmony between the doctrines of the Bible and the findings of experience.
But it may at least be remarked, that it is an evidence out of which
something may be gathered to meet the case of every inquirer.
For first, if he be in a state previous to conversion, this evidence
accumulates upon him by every statement he finds about the deadness and the darkness, and the dread of his alienated bosom in
reference to God-and he feels it to agree with the testimony of
his own conscience-and he sees in the Bible the reflection of his
own most intimate experience, as it tells him that he is living without hope and without God in the world, and that a moral impotency has got hold of him, and that he cannot render, in his own
strength, a spiritual obedience, and that there lies upon him the
utter impossibility of conceiving love to God, whom, without the
faith of the New Testament, he ever will look upon as a distant
and inaccessible Lawgiver. And secondly, if he be on the eve of
conversion, he finds out other points of accordancy. He looks at
the Gospel, and sees there what he can see nowhere else-a something to tranquillize the fears of guilt, to meet its necessities, to
bring the sinner, who by nature stands afar off, near unto Godand as he feels this wondrous virtue of the peace-speaking blood,
he believes that an application so suitable to man, could only proceed from Him who knew what was in man. And, finally, if he
be already converted, this evidence strengthens upon him every
day; and pours a growing light upon his path; and when he looks
at his Bible, he sees that it contains within its pages an exact transcript of his own feelings and his own exercises; and as he looks
at his own heart he sees the intimations of the Bible realized upon
all its movements; and the points of accordancy between the outward die and the inward mould, he perceives to be far too minute
and manifold and inscrutable to have been divined by the sagacity
of man —and the conviction meets upon him with every new step
in the progress of his history —and just as the Christians of old
believed that God was in the apostles of a truth, so does a Christian of this day believe that God is in the Bible, which the apostles
have left behind them-and to the truth of this belief, all the
thoughts, and all the transactions of his inner man, lend their testimony-as he feels within himself the conflict of two opposing
principles, and the habitual prevalence of one of them; or as he
feels within himself the faith which worketh by love, and the love
which vieldeth obedience; or as he feels within himself the process of sanctification; or as he feels within himself the peace and
the joy, and the spirit of adoption. which sounds to the world an
unintelligible mystery; or, as he finds on his own person the ful



THE CHRISTIAN S DEFENCE AGAINST INYIDELITY.    369
filment of prayer, and the firuits of the Spirit, and a growing conformity to the example of Christ, and a growing meetness for the
inheritance of a blissful eternity.
But we will not oppress ourselves with the magnitude of this
argument, by attempting to dispose of it, in all its parts, and in all
its illustrations, within the compass of' an Essay; and we shall
close this part of our argument by the three following remarks:1. This argument, so far from precluding the testimony of the
Spirit, is the very argument which the Spirit brings before us in
the exercise of his legitimate functions. He tells us of nothing
that is out of the field of revelation, or out of the field of human
experience. The telescope does not add a single character to the
distant landscape, but brings home to our discernment all the actual and antecedent characters which existed in it. In like manner, the Spirit of God adds nothing to the word of God. He makes
use of the word as His instrument. He gives us a clear view of
those characters which stand engraven upon the Bible, and of
those lineaments which Nature hath drawn upon our own hearts;
and therefore gives us a clear view of that accordancy of divination out of which the whole of this argument emerges.
2. The evidence which is thus furnished, is, no doubt, an internal evidence; but it is altogether dissimilar from that internal
evidence, which some would most presumptuously and most unphilosophically rear, as an accordancy between what they see in
the Bible, and what they imagine to be the plans and the processes of the Divinity. This evidence is nearer home, more
within the compass of human experience, and in every way more
consonant to the cautious and solid temper of the modern philosophy, and rests exclusively on the wondrous harmony that subsists
between what is seen in the Bible, and what is felt within the
familiar recesses of one's own heart, and the authoritative infbrmations of one's own consciousness.
3. It is an evidence that might be felt, in all its strength, by an
unlettered workman-and he may have well warranted convictions upon the subject-and yet, from the very nature of the evidence, he may be unable to pass an adequate communication of
it into another's bosom-and he may be loaded with contempt for
a set of impressions which to others are utterly inexplicable: and
thus it is a very possible thing, that what is called madness, may
be soberness and truth-and what is branded as Methodism, may
be indeed the soundest and the most enlightened philosophy.
There is another very palpable argument for the reality of some
such evidence as we have tried to illustrate, which it is. impossible
to overlook; and the question we have to put is, what is that
evidence on which a. man becomes a believer within the limits of
Christendom, where the Bible is circulated? And we would appeal to the ministers of Christ, for they can speak experimentally
upon this question,-tell us, amongst all the transitions you have
47




370    THE CHRISTIAN S DEFENCE AGAINST INFIDELITY.
witnessed from darkness to the marvellous light of the Gospel,
what the effective consideration was which accomplished such a
change! Tell us, ye men whose office it is to preside over this
department of human nature, who have long been conversant
with the phenomena which it offers, and have doubtless treasured
up in your remembrance, some cases of conversion, where the
after-life of the individual stood so nobly contrasted with his bygone history, as to attest, in characters the most decisive and
undeniable, the reality of his faith! Tell us, if you have ever detected the instrumental cause of that faith-or what that was
which the convert was looking to, when this principle dawned
into existence-or from what quarter of contemplation the light
of truth beamed upon his understanding-or where, in the whole
compass of that field upon which the thoughts of man can possibly expatiate, did he meet with the charm which cleared all his
doubts and all his darknesses away from him; which established
his feet on a way of rectitude that he had never before walked,
and animated his bosom by that Spirit of power and of a sound
mind, the workings of -which he had never before experienced!
O where lieth the mystery of these persuasive influences which
must have gathered around him, at that point of his earthly career,
when the doctrine of Christ first took an ascendency over his
judgment, and the morality of Christ shed its rich and beauteous
accomplishments over his practice and conversation! Did it lie,
we ask, in anything external to the subject-matter of the testimony? or did it lie within the subject-matter of the testimony
itself? Did the light lie in that history which the documents of
antiquity enable you to give of the Book? or did it lie in that doctrine and information which stand engraven upon its pages? Did
it lie in the exhibition you made of the proof for the communication? or did it lie in the exhibition you made of the substance of
the communication? Tell us the argument of that awakening
sermon under which you remember some secure hold of infidelity
to have been stormed. Was it in the act of combating the hostility of literature, when, in all the pride of erudition, you did demonstrate the faithful conveyance of the Scriptures of truth fi'rom
the first age of Christianity? Or was it in the act of combating
the hostility of nature's blindness and nature's opposition, when
you opened these Scriptures, and made the truth itself manifest
to the consciences of men? This last we imagine to be the only
way of converting the souls of men. It is not done by descending into the depths of the earth, and there fighting the battles of
the faith against the dark and the visioned spectres of geology.
tt is not done by ascending up into the heavens, and fetching
down from these wondrous regions some sublime and specious
illustration. It is done, by bringing the word nigh unto themby entering with it into the warm and the well-known chambers
of their own consciousness-by making them feel the full force




THE CHRISTIAN S DEFENCE AGAINST INFIDELITY.    371
of its adjustments to all their wants and to all their experiencebv telling them of that sin, under the conviction of which nature
tries to forget God, or would fly affrighted from His presence —
and of that Saviour who alone can hush the alarms of' nature.
These are the lessons which can do to this very hour what they
did in the days of the apostles. They can make the unbeliever
and the unlearned feel himself to be judged of all, and convinced
of all-and thus can manifest the secrets of his heart, so as that
he shall acknowledge God to be in them of a truth.
And here, by the way, we cannot but remark, what a powerful
argument the subject we have been illustrating furnishes in behalf
of Bible and Missionary Societies.  Did we propose to make
our next-door neighbor a believer unto life, we should feel that
the most direct instrumentality we could bring to bear upon him,
would be to ply his conscience with the word of the testimony.
And, did we go to the neighbor beyond him, we would just do
the same thing. And though, in passing from one man to another,
we widen the distance from our own home, we would never think
of making any change on the kind or on the method of application, by which we tried to subdue them all unto the faith of the
Gospel. And in this way would we proceed till we got to the
verge of Christendom-and if such be the right and the effective
treatment for the last man we found within its limits, tell us, for
in truth we cannot perceive it, why, on leaving him, it should not
be a treatment equally right and equally effective for the very
first man we meet with beyond it. How can the evidence lose
its power in the transition which we make at this particular moment?  What ingredient of strength has fallen away from it?
What is it that the man on this side of the line has, which the man
on the other side of the line has not?  Neither of them is made
to witness a miracle. Neither of them has heard a single word
about the original vouchers for Christianity, or about the faithful
transmission of its credentials along the line of many generations.
Neither of them has been initiated into the scholarship of its argumentative evidence: and if you will just demand no more for the
Christianization of the latter, than what you count to be enough
for the Christianization of the former, it were easy to prove, that
the man who is standing without has just as much to help on his
discipleship as the man who is standing within. Both of them
have the same mental constitution. Both are in the same state of
darkness and alienation from God. Both labor under the same
fears, and may have the same feeling of their moral and spiritual
necessities. In a word, each of them possesses a bosom alike
framed to meet, by its responding movements, the message and
the information of the New Testament. The thoughts of the one
heart are as effectually reached by the word of God, which discerns and divides them asunder, as the thoughts of the other
heart. And if, on the strength of these principles, we may go, by




372     THE CHRISTIANS DEFENCE AGAINST INFIDELITY.
a single inch, beyond the outskirts of Christendom, on the very
same principles is the whole extent of the habitable world laid
open to the enterprises of Bible Societies and Christian Missionaries. There is not a human being who does not carry within
him a mould of correspondence to that die which was wrought by
the wisdom of God; and which is fitted to meet the case and the
circumstances of all His children; and which, in fact, makes the
evidence of the Bible as portable, as Bibles and teachers are portable, and which may, and therefore ought, to be carried round
the globe; and should be made to traverse in every direction the
wide domains of humanity, and be carried to every island and
every district -where men are to be found, and to circulate in full
throughout all the tribes of this world's population, and to leave
not so much as one straggling remnant of the species unvisited,
nor to stop short in this noble enterprise, till the word of the testimony has been proclaimed among all nations, and kindreds, and
families.
And if it were not so-if there was no such evidence, as that
for which we are contending, by what practical avenue could the
faith of the Gospel be made to find an entrance and an establishment among the great mass of our own population?  Take away
from us the self-evidencing power of the Bible, and you lay an interdict on the Christianity of cottages, on the Christianity of workshops, on the Christianity of crowded and industrious establishments, on the Christianity of nearly all our cities, and all our
parishes. That the hope which is in us may have the property
of endurance, there must be a reason for the hope; and where,
we ask, in the whole field of their habitual contemplations are the
toil-worn children of poverty to find it? Are they to search for
this reason among the archives of history? Are they to gather
it out of the mouldering erudition of other days? Are they to
fetch it up from the profound and the puzzling obscurities of argumentation? Are they to encounter the toils of scholarship, and
ere the light of revelation can guide or can gladden them, think
you that they must learn to number, and to balance, and to confront the testimonies of former generations? No! Refuse us the
evidence we have been insisting on, and in doing so, you pass an
obliterating sponge over nearly all the Christianity that is in our
land. It might still continue to be talked of in the cloistered retirements of literary debate and speculation. But the mighty
host of our people could take no more rational interest in its questions, than they could in any controversy of the schools. And if
the truth of this volume be not legibly stamped upon its own
pages-if all the evidence by which we have affirmed it to be
most thoroughly and most visibly impregnated be a delusion-if
all the varied points of accordancy, between the book of revelation and the book of human experience, be not sufficient to attest
the divinity which framed it-or if this attestation be beyond the




THIE C::'I3TIAN.    S DEFENCE AGAI-ST INFIDELITY.  373
understanding of an ordinary peasant-then must Christianity be
ever shut up firom the vast majority of our species; nor do we
see one possible way of causing it to circulate at large among
the families of our land.
But let us not be understood, by these remarks, to undervalue
the power and the importance of the external evidences of our
faith. Though it is to the subject-matter of the testimony itself,
that we would send the inquirer for the most satisfying conviction
of the truth; yet we hold it of paramount importance to exhibit
the strength of argument, and the irresistible force of evidence,
which can be adduced for the authenticity and divine authority
of Revelation, to silence the gainsayer, and to vindicate Christianity from the assaults of infidelity.  And we know not a finer
assemblage of evidence for the divine Record, to meet and to
overthrow the sophistries and objections with which scepticism is
ever assailing it, or to resolve the doubts and difficulties which
may agitate the mind of the honest inquirer, than the able and
interesting Treatises of which the present volume is composed.
The writers display, in an uncommon degree, extensive knowledge and profound erudition; and they possess every talent and
qualification which is essential to solid argument, legitimate
reasoning, and sound induction.  With a manly spirit, suited to
the rectitude of their cause, and possessed of an experimental
assurance of the truth which they advocate, their arguments are
more characterized by heartfelt power than subtle ingenuity;
and, with a feeling of confidence in the strength of their cause,
they manifest that dignity which best comports with the sacredness and majesty of truth, by rearing the fabric of their own
evidence, without descending to notice all the oft refuted, yet still
re-echoed sophistries and cavils of infidelity. The evidences they
present, however, are so extensive and varied, that every order
of mind is addressed with suitable proofs for its conviction; and
though it would be impossible to advert to every trivial objection
which infidelity has invented, or every cavil which impiety has
urged, yet without fear or evasion, they have fairly selected, and
triumphantly met those difficulties and objections, which infidelity
has represented as most formidable to Christianity. Aware that
there are infatuated men who reason against Christianity, as if it
were pregnant with every mischief-who seem to delight in the
imagination, that such an overwhelming calamity as a belief in its
doctrines shall never overtake them-and who resist its pretensions with such inflexible obstinacy, as if the abrogation of Christianity would introduce a new order of blessing into our world,
-the writers in the present volume not only introduce Christianity as presenting her credentials, but as stating and expounding her beneficent message. While deducing the legitimate internal evidences, arising from the nature, character. and design of
Christianity, and its peculiar adaptation to renovate the moral




374     THE CHRISTIAN'S DEFENCE AGAINST INFIDELITY.
condition of man, they intermingle their evidences with a luminous exhibition of the dispensation of grace-a dispensation so
holy, perfect, and beneficent in its character and operation, that
while it is well fitted to bless the life that now is, it furnishes the
only solid and comfortable hope for eternity.
In Leslie's " Short and Easy Method with the Deists," and
"The Truth of Christianity Demonstrated," we have the historical evidence for the truth of Scripture exhibited in a form so
convincing and satisfactory, that the mind which can reject such
evidence must evince a total perversity of reason, as well as an
abjuration of all such testimony as can substantiate the truth of
any by-gone event in this world's history,-which would go to
expose every authentic record to the charge of fabulousness, and
reduce the best established facts into a state of doubt and uncertainty.  The firm coherence of his argument, and the soundness
of his marks for distinguishing between truth and falsehood, which
he so legitimately applies for ascertaining the authenticity of the
facts of Scripture history, render his statements so conclusive
and irresistible, that no reply can be made to his demonstrations,
which does not imply a dereliction of reason and principle which
the bitterest enemy of Christianity would be ashamed to avow.
His proofs possess that speciality of character, that, even by the
confession of infidelity itself, they can belong only to genuine
records, and can never be found but in connection with events
which, in truth and reality, had a positive existence.  It must,
therefore, be a daring and hardy scepticism indeed, which can
elude or resist the force of those unequivocal proofs, by which
the author indubitably establishes the authenticity of the facts
which are recorded in Scripture.
Not less conclusive, in another department of evidence, do we
hold Lord Lyttleton's "Observations on the Conversion and
Apostleship of St. Paul."  The soundness of his reasonings,
established on the well-known principles of human nature, and
the no less sound and philosophical deductions which he makes
from the whole sentiments and conduct of the apostle. render his
arguments in favor of Christianity so clear and irresistible, that
we think no honest mind can give his " Observations" an attentive
and unprejudiced perusal, without arriving at a thorough and
well-established conviction of the truth of Christianity.  To reject such evidence, or to arrive at any other conclusion, would be
to betray a most wilful perversity of mind, and to commit a most
grievous outrage on the soundest principles and laws of human
judgment.  From the impossibility of accounting for such conduct by the ingenuity of imposture, it must be by a total inversion
of all the motives and principles which are known to influence
human conduct, that an opposite conclusion can be drawn to what
our author has deduced from an examination of the life and labors
of St. Paul —that he was indeed a divinely-commissioned agent




THE CHRISTIAN'S DEFENCE AGAINST INFIDELITY,    375
of Heaven, and that the Christian dispensation, which he labored
to establish, has indubitable claims to a divine original.
In Dr. Doddridge's Discourses on the " Evidences of Christianity," we have a full and comprehensive survey of all the
variety of evidence which is generally adduced in support of the
authenticity and divine authority of the New Testament. The
Treatise is no less characterized by the clear and forcible argu.
ment which pervades it, than by the affectionate earnestness
which it breathes, and the close and pathetic appeals which the
excellent author makes to the minds of his readers, on the preeminent importance of the' truths of the divine record, and of the
no less unspeakable danger of neglecting or contemning the Gospel message.
The next Treatise, by Dr. Bates, on " The Divinity of the
Christian Religion," contains a no less comprehensive, and still
more powerful exhibition of the various evidences which can be
adduced for establishing the truth of Christianity. The evidences
from history, from prophecy, from miracles, from the testimony
of credible witnesses, are all brought in distinct and convincing
review before the mind; and our readers cannot peruse this admirable Treatise, without an increased feeling of confidence in
the variety and fulness, and invincible character of that rich assemblage of evidence, on the immovable basis of which Christianity is established.  And while he satisfactorily establishes the
truth of Christianity, he does not leave his readers in ignorance
of what Christianity is. He not only presents the testimony
which accompanies truth, to carry conviction to the understanding,
but he presents the truth itself, in such a form as is fitted to commend it to the conscience. And such is our feeling of confidence
in the truth, for attesting its own divinity, that we hold the truth
itself to possess a power of manifestation, which addresses the
heart with a more prevailing and resistless energy, than either
the power of demonstration can press, or the evidence of the
most incontestable miracles can enforce.
Dr. Owen's Treatise " On the divine Original, Authority, and
Self-Evidencing Light and Power of the Holy Scriptures," embraces a distinct, but most important species of evidence; and
this article will be held in high estimation by those who desiderate a satisfactory conviction of the claims of the Bible to divine
inspiration, of which he adduces the most solid and indubitable
proofs; and he affords a no less clear and satisfactory explanation
to those who possess no distinct apprehension of the manner in
which the word came forth from God, and was again given out
by those inspired men to whom it was communicated, as well as
the security and infallible certainty that what they gave out as
the mind and will of God was indeed of' divine original, and a divine communication. On this firm and immovable basis he establishes the authority of the Scriptures, their claim to a suprem



376     THE CHRISTIAN S DEFENCE AGAINST INFIDELITY.
acy over the mind and will of those to whom this revelation has
come, and the fearful danger of a neglect or a rejection of the
message. And the truths which are made to evolve, in the progress of his demonstration, bear a hard and humbling aspect to
that proud philosophy which cherishes a feeling of sentimental
adoration of the works of nature, which are but the subordinate
reflectors of the glory of the Deity, while it turns with antipathy
and disgust firom that word which the Deity has magnified above
all his works, as giving a fuller and more glorious manifestation of
his mind and character-a manifestation of the Deity so surpassing
and exalted above that which is exhibited in the visible creation,
that, in comparison with the light, and power, and extent of that
manifestation which is given out in the Bible, it may well be said
to have no glory, by reason of the glory that excelleth. And
while we award our meed of praise to the writers of the previous
Treatises in this volume, who have reared such a collective body
of evidence to meet and overthrow the no less impotent than impious assaults of' infidelity, yet do we hold Dr. Owen to have rendered a more essential service to the cause of Divine Revelation,
when, by his clear and irresistible demonstrations, he has proved
that the written word itself possesses a self-evidencing light and
power for manifesting its own divine original, superior to the testimnony of eye-witnesses, or the evidence of miracles, or those supernatural gifts with which the first teachers of Christianity were
endowed for accrediting their divine mission. And well may the
profane or the infidel contemners of revealed truth tremble at their
presumption, when they are told not only of the superiority of the
word of God in its power of manifestation above all His works,
but of the light and power which the written word possesses to
attest its own divinity, above all that external evidence which infidel philosophers so much desiderate for establishing the truth of
Divine Revelation.
The Treatise of Richard Baxter " On the Folly and Danger of
making light of Christ" closes the volume; and though it does
not partake of the character of direct evidence, yet we hold it to
be of prime importance to the cause of Christian truth, as it detects and exposes the latent causes of infidelity in the worldliness,
or love of pleasure, or the diversified pursuits which engross the
mind, to the utter exclusion of the salvation which the Gospel reveals. And truly does he resolve the largest portion of the infidelity which exists, into the infidelity of the heart, and not of the
understanding. From the irreconcilable characters of God and
Mammon, of Christ and Belial, of the love of the Father, and the
love of the world, those infatuated men who are determined to
render their homage to the one, must necessarily entertain feelings of hostility to the other; and this hostility of the affections
exerts a secret but blinding and delusive influence over the judgment, and in spite of the clearest and most incontrovertible evi.




THE CHRISTIAN S DEFENCE AGAINST INFIDELITY.    377
dence, betraying it into a disbelief of what the depraved heart
must wish were not true. Aware as we are, of the extreme reluctance with which men whose minds have become poisoned
with the pride of infidelity, or whose hearts have become depraved with the love of sin, admit any argument in favor of
Christianity, we could not close our volume without bringing the
forcible and pathetic appeals of Richard Baxter to bear upon
their consciences. And if there be one piece in this volume,
which, in preference to another, we would more urgently recommend to their serious regard, it would be this invaluable Treatise
of Richard Baxter. Aware as he was of that deep and desperate infatuation by which so tnany are deceived to their eternal
undoing, with the tenderness and pathos of a man whose heart
glowed with angelic benevolence —and with the earnestness and
urgency of a man who felt the importance of his message; does
he endeavor to persuade men by all that is commanding in the
authority of God-by all that is winning in the love of Christby all that is inviting in a blessed immortality-and by all that is
tremendous in eternal perdition, to flee from the wrath to come,
and to lay hold of the offered remedy. And if such men continue in their wilful and obstinate rejection of the Gospel, and
heedlessly neglect, or perversely resist, the mercy which it offers,
then it is not from want of clear and incontrovertible evidence,
but from a desperately wicked and deceitful heart which is deceiving them to their ruin; and we know not by what power, or
by what sophistry such infatuated men can turn away from them
the force of this fearful declaration, that " if our Gospel be hid, it
is hid to them that are lost: in whom the god of this world hath
blinded the minds of them which believe not, lest the light of the
glorious Gospel of Christ, who is the image of God, should shine
unto them."
It is well that Christianity has such a firm basis of argumentation to rest upon. It is well that she can be triumphantly borne
throughout the whole range of human literature, and can bear to
be confionted with all that the fancy or the philosophy of man
have ever devised against her reputation.  We count every one
illustration of her external evidence to be an accession to her
cause, nor can we look at the defensive barrier which has been
thrown around her, without wishing that the public eve might
often be directed to the strength and the glory of her venerable
outworks. But let it not be disguised. The surrender of the understanding to the external argument is one thing; the rational
principle of Christianity is another. And, therefore, there must
be something more than the bare evidence of Christianity, to work
the faith which is unto salvation. Many are the accomplished
philosophers who have rejected this evidence, and to them it will
stand in place of the miracle of tongues to the unbelievers of old.
It will be a sign to justify their condemnation. But many also
48




378     TIlE CHRISTIAN'S DEFENCE AGAINST INFIDELITY.
have admitted the evidence, and still the opinion has been as unfruitful of all that is religious, as the conclusion they have come
to on any literary question. And, men of genius and accomplishment as they are, they must, to obtain the faith of the Gospel, just
put themselves on a level with the most untaught of our peasantry. They must submit to be tutored by the same evidence at
last. They must labor after the same manifestation of the truth
unto their consciences. They must open their Bibles, and give
earnest heed unto the word of this prophecy. To the spirit of
earnestness they must add the spirit of prayer. They must knock
for light at the door which they cannot open, till the day dawns
and the day-star arise in their hearts —and then will they find,
that, by a way hidden from the wise and the prudent, but revealed
unto babes, the word of prophecy may become more sure than
any miracle can make it-more sure, than if a voice of attestation were to sound forth upon them from the canopy of heavenand greatly more sure than by all that contradictory evidence,
which links the present with the past, the period in which we now
live with that wondrous period, when such a voice was heard by
human ears on the mount of transfiguration.
It is true that the word of the testimony is often perused in
Fain-that in the reading of the Scriptures, the veil which is upon
the heart of the natural man often remains untaken away-and
that, after all that is done with him, he persists in blind and wilful obstinacy, and will neither see the doctrine of the Bible, nor
the reflection of that doctrine upon his own character. To work
this effect, the word must be accompanied by the demonstration
of the Spirit, and who shall limit his operations? When we think
of the influences of Him who is promised in answer to prayer,
and when we farther think of the extent of warrant that we have
for prayer, even that we should ask for all such things as are
agreeable to the will of God, who willeth all men to be saved, and
to come to the knowledge of the truth, and who is ever ready to
put a blessing on His own word; then, to the diligent reading of
the word, let him add the humble, earnest, and sincere prayer,
that " God who commanded the light to shine out of darkness,
may shine intQ his heart, to give him the light of the knowledge
of the glory of God, as it is revealed in the face of Jesus Christ."




INTRODUCTORY ESSAY
TO
THE LIVING TEMPLE;
OR;
A GOOD MAN THE TEMPLE OF GOD.
BY THE REV. JOHN HOWE, A.M.
IT is well remarked by the excellent JOUN HOWE, in the following Treatise, that the " Living Temple." or, as it is frequently
styled in the New Testament the " Kingdom of Heaven." which
God is setting up in the world, " is not established by might or by
power, but by the Spirit of the Lord; who-as the structure is
spiritual, and to be situated and raised up in the mind or spirit of
man —works, in order to it, in a wav suitable thereto; that is,
very much by soft and gentle insinuations, to which are subservient the self-recommending amiableness and comely aspect of religion, the discernible gracefulness and uniform course of such in
whom it bears rule, and is a settled, living law. It is a structure
to which there is a concurrence of truth and holiness; the former
letting in a vital, directive, formative light-the latter, a heavenly,
calm, and god-like frame of spirit."  To the same import is the
declaration of our Saviour, when, in answer to the Pharisees, who
demanded of Him when the kingdom of God should come, replied, - The kingdom of God cometh not with observation; neither shall they say, Lo, here! or, lo, there! for, behold, the kingdom of God is within you." We are thus given to understand,
that the kingdom which God is establishing in the world, does not
consist in external forms and observances-that it is not of a temporal, but of a spiritual character-and that, unlike the establishment of earthly kingdoms, it cometh with none of those visible
accompaniments which meet the eye of public observation.
The establishment of a new kingdom in the world carries much
in it to strike the eye of an observer. There is a deal of visible
movement accompanying the progress of such an event-the
march of armies, and the bustle of conspiracies, and the exclama



380                HOWE' S LIVING TEMPLE.
tions of victories, and the triumph of processions, and the splendor
of coronations. All these doings are performed upon a conspicuous theatre; and there is not an individual in the country, who, if
not an actor, may be at least an observer on the elevated stage
of great and public revolutions. He can point his finger, and say,
Lo, here! or, lo, there! to the symptoms of political change which
are around him; and the clamorous discontent of one province,
and the warlike turbulence of another, and the loud expressions
of public sentiment at home, and the report of preparation abroad
-all force themselves upon the notice of spectators; so that
when a new kingdom is set up in the world, that kingdom cometh
with observation.
The answer of our Saviour to the question of the Pharisees,
may be looked upon as designed to correct their misconceptions
respecting the nature of the kingdom which he was to establish.
There is no doubt that they all looked for a deliverance from the
yoke of Roman authority —that, in their eyes, the Captain of their
Salvation was to be the leader of a mighty host, who, fighting
under the special protection of God, would scatter dismay and
overthrow among the oppressors of their country-that the din
of war, and the pride of conquest, and the glories of a widely
extended dominion, and all the visible parade of a supreme and
triumphant monarchy, were to shed a lustre over their beloved
land. And it must have been a sore mortification to them all,
when they saw the pretensions of the Messiah associated with
the poverty, and the meekness, and the humble, unambitious, and
spiritual character of Jesus of Nazareth. We cannot justify the
tone of His persecutors; but we must perceive, at the same time,
the historical consistency of all their malice, and bitterness, and
irritated pride, with the splendor of those expectations on which
they had been feasting for years, and which gave a secret elevation to their souls under the endurance of their country's bondage,
and their country's wrongs. It marks-and it marks most strikingly-how the thoughts of God are not as the thoughts of man;
that the actual fulfilment of those prophecies which related to the
history of Judea, turned out so differently from the anticipations
of the men who lived in it; and that Jerusalem, which, in point
of expectation, was to sit as mistress over a tributary world, was,
in point of fact, torn up from its foundations, after the vial of
God's wrath had been poured in a tide of unexampled misery over
the heads of its wretched people. Now, what became all the
while of those prophecies which respected the Messiah? What
became of that kingdom of God which the Pharisees inquired
about, and of which, however much they were in the wrong respecting its nature, they were certainly in the right respecting the
time of its appearance? Did it actually appear? Is it possible
that it could be working its way, at the very time that every hope
which man conceived of it was turned into the cruellest mockery?




HOWE S LIVING TEMPLE.               381
Is it possible that the truth of prophecy could be receiving its
most splendid vindication, at the very time that every human interpreter was put to shame, and that all that happened was the
reverse of all that was anticipated? Surely if any kingdom was
formed at that time, when the besom of destruction passed through
the land of Judea, and swept the whole fabric of its institutions
away from it-surely if it was such a kingdom, as was to spread,
through the seed of Abraham, the promised blessing among all
the families of the earth, and that, too, when a. cloud of ignominy
was gathering upon the descendants of Abraham-surely if at the
time when Pagans desolated the Land of Promise, and proftaned
the temple, and entered the holy place, and wantoned in barbarous levity among those sacred courts where the service of the
true God had been kept for many generations-surely if at such
a time and with such a burden of disgrace and misery on the
people of Israel, a kingdom was forming that was to be the glory
of that people-then it is not to be wondered at that no earthly
eve should see it under the gloom of that disastrous period, or that
the kingdom of God, coming as it did in the midst of wars and
rumors of wars, when men's eyes were looking at other things,
and their hearts were failing them, should have eluded their observation.
In common language, a kingdom carries our thoughts to the
country over which it is established. The kingdom of Sweden
directs the eye of our mind to that part of Europe; and in the various places of the Bible where the kingdom of God and the kingdom of heaven are mentioned, this is one of the significations.
But it has also other significations. It sometimes means, not the
place over which the royal authority extends, but the royal authority itself. In the first sense, the kingdom of heaven carries our
attention to heaven; but with this as the meaning, we could not
understand what John the Baptist pointed to, when he said "the
kingdom of heaven is at hand." But, in the second sense, it is
quite intelligible, and means that the authority which subordinates
all the families of heaven to the one Monarch who reigns there,
was on the eve of being established with efficacy on earth; or, in
other words, that the prayer was now beginning its accomplishment-" Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven." Hence it
is that some translators, for the term kingdom, substitute the term
reign; and make our Saviour say, that the reign of God cometh
not with observation, for the reign of God is within you. The
will of man is the proper seat of the authority of God. It is there
where rebellion against Him exists in its principle; and where
that rebellion is overthrown, it is there where the authority of God
sits in triumph over all His enemies. Give Him the will of man,
and invest that will with an efficient control over the doings of
man, and you give Him all He wants. You render Him the one
act of obedience which embraces every other. "Give me thy




382                HOWE S LIVING TEMPLE.
heart," is a precept, the performance of which involves in it the
surrender of all the man to all the requirements. It brings the
whole life under its authority; for it takes that into its keeping
out of which are the issues of life. And could these hearts of
ours be brought into subjection to the first and great commandment, obedience would cease to be a task; fbr we would delight
to run in the way of it. To do it would be our meat and our
drink. We would know, in the experience of our own lives, that
the commandments of God are not grievous. It is only grievous
to do that which is against the bent of the will. But to do that
which is with the bent of the will, contains in it all the facility of
a natural and spontaneous movement. It is doing what is a pleasure to ourselves.  It is said to be one of the attributes of rebellion, that it walks in the counsel of its own heart, and in the sight
of its own eyes. But this is only when the heart is alienated from
the God of heaven, and the eyes are blinded by the god of this
world. Give us a heart which the purifying grace of the Gospel
hath made clean, and eyes to which Christ hath given light, and
then it is no longer rebellion to walk in the counsel of such a heart,
and in the sight of such eyes. Obedience against the desires and
tendencies of the heart is painful as the drudgery of a slave; and,
in fact, to the eye of God, who thinks that if He has not the heart
He has nothing, it is no obedience at all-but obedience, with
these desires and tendencies, is carried on with all the spring and
energy of a pleasurable exercise. And, oh! precious privilege of
him who is made by faith to partake in the heart-purifying influences of the Gospel! It is the very pleasure which we take in
the doing of God's will, and which makes it so delightful to us, that
gives to our performances all their value in the eye of God. We
will be at no loss to understand the happiness of a well-founded
Christian, when the doing of that which is in the highest degree
delightful to himself, meets. and is at one, with all the security of
God's friendship and God's approbation.  We are now touching
upon such an experience of the inner man as the world knoweth
not, and are describing the mysteries of such a kingdom as the
world discerneth not; but whether all our readers go along with
us or not, it remains true, that if the love of God be made to reign
within us, His will becomes our will. And this commandment
proves itself to be the first of all; for when it is fulfilled, the fulfilment of all the rest follows in its train-and the greatest of all;
for it, as it were, takes a wide enough sweep to inclose them all,
and to form a guard and a security for their observance.
The reign of God on earth, then, is the reign of His will over
the unseen movements of the inner man. This is the kingdom He
wants to establish. It is the submission of that which is within
us, that He claims as His due; and if it be withheld from Him,
all the conformity of our outer doings is a vain and an empty sacrifice. Give us a right mind towards God, and you give us, in the




HOWE S LIVING TEMPLE.                383
individual who owns that mind, all the elements of loyalty. It is
there where His authority is felt and acknowledged to be a rightful authority. It is there where its requirements are looked at by
the understanding, and laid upon the conscience, and move the
will with all the force of a resistless obligation, and form the purpose of obedience, and send forth that purpose, armed with the
fill power of a presiding influence, over every step and movement
of his history. It is in the busy chamber of the mind where all
that is great and essential in the work of obedience is carried on.
The mighty struggle between the powers of heaven and of hell is
for the possession of this little chamber. The subtle enemy of our
race knows, that while he has this for his lodging-place, the empire is his own —and give him only the citadel of the heart, and
he will revel in all the glories of his undivided monarchy. The
strong man reigns in his house with the full authority of its master, till a stronger than he overcome him, and bind him, and take
possession of that which he before occupied. And such is the
spirit that worketh in the children of disobedience. It is in the
heart of man that he worketh, and is ever plying it with his wiles
and contrivances, and turning its affections to the creature, and
blinding it to all that is glorious or lovely in the image of the Creator; and by his power over the fancy, causing it to imagine a
greatness, and a stability, and a value, and an enjoyment in the
things of the world which do not belong to them; and whispering
false promises to the ear of the inner man, and seducing him as he
did the first of our race, so as to bring him into the snare of the
devil, and to take him captive at his will. In the same manner, he
who came to destroy the works of the devil, bends his main force
to the quarter where these works are strongest, and their position
is most advantageous to the enemy. The heart of man is the
mighty subject of this spiritual contest, and the possession of the
heart is the prize of victory.  To those who have not yet learned
to take their lesson from the Bible, all this sounds like a fabulous
imagination, or the legendary tale of an artful priesthood to a
drivelling and superstitious people. But it is all to be met with
in God's revealed communication. You are ignorant of what you
ought to know, if you know not that a contest is going on among
the higher orders of being for the mastery of all that is within
you. Let Christ then dwell in you by faith. He is knocking at
the door of your heart, and if you will open it to receive Him, He
will enter it. He will sweep it of all its corruptions. He will
enable you to overcome, for then greater will be He that is in you
than he that is in the world. The kingdom of God is righteousness and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost; and He making you,
by the power of His Spirit, to abound in these fruits, will in you
make another addition to that living temple-that spiritual kingdom which God is establishing in the world.
Man has revolted from God, and a fearful change has taken




384                HOWE'S LIVING TEMPLE.
place in his moral constitution; and thus the things of sight and
of' sense, instead of leading his thoughts to God, have become the
idolatrous objects of his affections. In his original state of innocence, man not only held direct and intimate communion with
God, but all that he saw, and all that he enjoyed, conducted his
thoughts and his affections to that Being whose love and whose
authority reigned in supremacy over his heart. The gratification
of his desire for created things, was then in perfect harmony with
the love of the Creator. And man would just now have been in
this condition if' he had not fallen. He would not have counted it
his duty, to have violently counteracted his every taste, and every
desire, for the things which are created. The practical habit of
his life would not have been a constant and strenuous opposition
to all that could minister delight to the sensitive part of his constitution. He would not have been ever and anon employed in
thwarting the adaptations which God had ordained between the
objects that are around him, and his organs of enjoyment. It is
true, that when Eve put forth her hand to the forbidden fruit, it
was after she had looked upon the tree, and seen that it was good
for food, and pleasant to the eyes: but the very same thing is
said of the other trees in the garden, " for out of the ground
made the Lord to grow every tree that is pleasant to the sight,
and good for food." Our first parents tasted of all these trees
without offence,-and in that habitation of sweets many an avenue
of enjoyment was open to them; and a thousand ways may well
be conceived, in which the loveliness of surrounding nature
would minister delight both to the eye and the feeling of our first
parents,-and from every point of that external materialism which
God had reared for his accommodation, would there beam a felicity upon the creature whom He had so organized, as to suit his
capacities of pleasure to his outward circumstances. We are
not to conceive, that during that short-lived period of the world's
innocence, and of Heaven's favor, there was no gratification
transmitted to the soul of man from  the sensible and created
things which were on every side of him. His taste was gratified,
-and amid the pure luxury, and among the delicious repasts of
paradise, might be perceived in him a principle of desire, corresponding to what in our days of depravity is termed the lust of
the flesh. His eye was gratified,-and as he surveyed the
beauties of his garden, and felt himself to be its vested and rightful proprietor, would he experience a principle of desire, which,
in its transmission to a corrupt posterity, has now become the
lust of the eye. His sense of superior dignity was gratified,and as he stalked in benevolent majesty among the tribes of creation that had been placed beneath him, would he feel the kindlings of that very affection, which, tainted by the malignity of
sin, has sunk down among his offspring into the pride of life. Al:
these affections, which in a state of guilt have so virulent an




HOWE S LIVING TEMPLE.                385
operation on the heart, as to be opposite to the love of God,there is not one of them but may have had a pure and a righteous
counterpart in a state of innocence.
And the whole explanation of the matter appears simply to be
this. Adam lived at that time in communion with God. In all
that he enjoyed, he saw a Giver's hand, and a Giver's kindness.
That link, by which the happiness he derived from the use of the
creature was associated with the love of the Creator, was clearly
and constantly present with him. There was not one thing
which he either tasted or saw, that was not regarded by him as a
token of the Divine beneficence; insomuch that the expression
of a Father's care and a Father's tenderness, beamed upon his
senses, from every one object with which his senses came into intercourse. Whatever he looked upon with the eye of his body,
was but to him the material vehicle, through which the love of the
great Author of all found its way to him, with some new accession
of enjoyment; nor could there one pleasurable feeling then be
made to arise which was not most exquisitely heightened, and
most intimately pervaded, by the grateful remembrance of Him
who had placed him in his present condition, and whose liberal
hand had done so much to bless and to adorn it. In the case of a
human benefactor, there is no difficulty in perceiving, that there is
room in the heart, both for a sense of gratification from the gift,
and for a sense of gratitude to the giver. In the case of the
heavenly Benefactor, the union of these two things stood constant and inseparable, and was only dissolved by the fall. A sense
of God mingled with every influence that came from the surrounding materialism upon our first parents. It impregnated all.
It sanctified all. The things of sense did not detain them for a
single moment from God; because, while busied with the work
of enjoyment, they were equally busied with the work of gratitude. All that they tasted, or handled, or saw, were memorials
of the Divinity; insomuch that His visible presence in the garden was never felt to be an interruption. It only made Him
present to their senses, who was constantly present to their
thoughts. It for a time withdrew them from some of the scenes
on which his character was imprinted; but it summoned them to
a direct contemplation of the character itself.  While it suspended
their enjoyment of a few of the tokens of his love, it gave them a
nearer and more affecting enjoyment of its reality; and instead
of reluctantly withdrawing from those objects which were merely
dear to them as the reflections of His kindness, when He called
them to an act of fellowship with the kindness itself, did they
recognize His voice, and obeyed it with ecstasy.
Now, without adverting to the way in which the transition
from the former to the present state of man's moral nature has
taken place-such in fact has been the transition, that the two
states are not only unlike, but in direct and diametric opposition
49




38e,               HOWE S LIVING TEMPLE.
to each other-there is no such change in his physical constitution, but that what tasted pleasurably to him in his state of innocence, tastes pleasurably to him still-and what looked fair to him
in external nature then, looks fair to him now-and in many instances, what regaled his senses in the one state, is equally fitted
to regale them in the other. The purity of Eden did not lie in
the want or the weakness of all physical sensation; neither does
the guilt of our accursed world lie in the existence, or even in the
strength, of physical sensation. But in the former state, the gift
stood at all times associated in the mind of man with the Giver.
God rejoiced over his children to do them good; and they, while
rejoicing in the good that they obtained, felt it all to be heightened
and pervaded by a sense of his kindness. Every new accession
to their enjoyment, instead of seducing them from their loyalty,
only served to confirm it; and brought a new accession to that
love, which made their duty to be their delight, and their highest
privilege and pleasure to be the keeping of His commandments.
The moral and spiritual change which our race has undergone,
consisted in this-that the tie in their minds was broken, by which
the enjoyment of the gift led to a sense and a recognition of the
Giver. It is the breaking asunder of this link which simply and
essentially forms the corruption of man. He drinks of the stream,
without any recognition of the fountain from which it flows. God
is banished from his gratitude and from his thoughts. With him
the whole business of enjoyment is made up of an intercourse
between his senses, and the objects that are suited to them. There
is no intercourse between his mind and that Being, who is the
Author both of his senses, and of all that is fitted to regale them.
He makes use of created things, and has pleasure in the use of
them. But in that pleasure he rests and terminates. Instead of
vehicles leading him to God, they are in his eye stationary and ultimate objects; the possession of which, and the enjoyment of
which, are all that he aspires after. Pleasure is prosecuted for
itself. Wealth is prosecuted for itself. Distinction is prosecuted
for itself. There is no wish on the part of natural men for a portion in anything beyond these. God is not the object of their desire, and he is just as little the object of their dependence. It is
neither God whom they are seeking, nor is it to God that they
look for the attainment of what they are seeking. They count
upon fortune, and experience, and the constancy of the course of
nature, and anything but the power, and the purposes, and the
sovereignty of God. He, in fact, is deposed from his supremacy,
both as an object of desire and an object of dependence. Men
have deeply revolted from God; and they have raised the world,
not into a rival, but into the sole and triumphant divinity of their
adoration. The lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eye, and the
pride of life, may have all had their counterpart in the constitution of Adam ere he fell; but instead of averting his eye from the




HOWE S LIVING TEMPLE.               387
Father, they brought the Father more vividly into his remembrance-instead of intercepting God, they conducted both his
thoughts and his affections to the Being who openeth his hand
liberally, and satisfieth the desire of every living thing. But with
the diseased posterity of Adam, these affections are only so many
idolatrous desires towalds the creature-so many acts of homage
towards the world, regarded in the light of a satisfying and independent deity-and therefore is it said of them, that "they are
not of the Father, but of the world."
Now, to bring this home to familiar experience —who is there,
in looking forward with delight to some entertainment of luxury
-or who is there, in prosecuting with intense devotion some enterprise of gain-or who is there, in adding to the pomp of his
establishment, that ever thinks of God as having furnished the
means, or- as having created the materials of these respective
gratifications? They look no farther than to the materials themselves. For the indulgence of these various affections, they draw
not upon God, but upon this solid and visible world, to which
they ascribe all the power and all the independency of God.
They look not to any pleasure which they enjoy as emanating
from the first cause.  They see it emanating from  secondary
causes; and with these do they stop short, and are satisfied. It
is this which stamps the guilt of atheism on the whole practical
habit and system of human life. In the prosecution of its objects,
not one civil obligation may have been violated —not one deed
may have been committed to forfeit the respect of society —not
one thing may ever have been charged upon this world's idolater
to alienate the regard, but everything may have, been done by him
to conciliate the kindness, and draw down upon him the flattery
of his fellow-men. But, alas! he has broken loose from God!
He lives, from the cradle to the grave, without any practical recognition of Him in whom he lives, and moves, and has his being.
A demonstration of social virtue, so far from offending, may minister to his complacency. But to bid him crucify his affections
for the things of sense, is to bid him inflict a suicide upon his person. And thus, while beneficent in conduct, and fair in reputation among his fellows, may he in prospect be linked with the fate
of a world that is soon to be burnt up, and in character be tainted
with the spirit of a world that is lying in wickedness. And thus
it is, that there may be spiritual guilt in the midst of social accomplishment —there may be wrath from heaven in the midst of applause and connivance from the world —there may be impending
disaster in the midst of imagined safety —there may be abomination in the sight of God, in the midst of highest esteem and popularity among men.
There is nothing in the daily routine of this world's luxury, or
this world's covetousness, or this world's ambition, which suggests
to its carnal and earth-born children the conviction of sinfulness.




388                HOWVE S LIVING TEMPLE.
The round of pleasure is described, or the career of adventure is
prosecuted, or the path of aggrandizement is entered upon; and
it does not-once meet the imagination of this world's votary, that,
in every one of these pursuits, he is widening his departure from
God. He is not aware of the deathly character of his habits;
and, protect him only from the voice of human execration, he
hears, or hears without alarm, that voice of truth which pronounces him wholly given over to idolatry. And yet can anything be more evident, even of the most harmless and reputable
members of society, than that the gifts of a kind and liberal
Father have stolen away from  Him the affections of His own
children-than that they have taken up with another portion, than
with Him who originates and sustains them-than that they have
built their foundation on the creature, and look on the Creator
with the defiance at least of unconcern? They in reality have
disjoined themselves from God. Instead of being conducted by
the sight of the world to the thought of God, they look no further
than the world, and it stands in their hearts contrasted with God.
Instead of the one leading to the other, the one detains and withdraws from the other. They are so conversant with the world
as to lose sight of God. For this we can appeal to the conscience
of every natural man, and on this we ground the affirmation, that
though in the keen pursuit of the money which purchaseth all
things, he may have never deviated from the onward path of integrity, he has been receding by every footstep to a greater distance from heaven-and with an eye averted from God, has been
looking towards those things, the love of which is opposite to the
love of the Father.
And it is because men are thus engrossed with the visible objects of time, that they have lost sight of their own individual concern in that spiritual kingdom which God is setting up in the
world. Because it does not rank among the visibilities of earth,
it is looked at by them with the most heedless indifference, and
they regard its existence as a fiction of the imagination. The
subject of that kingdom is indeed invisible. It worketh its silent
and unseen way through the world of souls, and it may be multiplying its subjects, and widening the extent of its dominion every
day, without the eye of man being able to perceive it. There is
a day of revelation coming; and the hidden things which are to
be laid open on that day are the secrets of the heart. But, in the
meantime, the heart is, in a great measure, shut up from observation; and many of its movements will remain unnoticed and unknown till that day shall discover them. And we are expressly
told, that that greatest of all movements, by which it turns from
Satan unto God, is a hidden operation. It is said of the Spirit,
who worketh this movement, that no man knoweth whence it
cometh, or whither it goeth. It makes its noiseless way through
streets and families. The visible instrument which God employs




HOWE'S LIVING TEMPLE.                389
may come equally to all who are within its reach; but the effect
which the Spirit giveth to that instrument, is not a matter of direct perception, nor can we tell who the individual is whose heart
it will ply with the word of God, so as to give all the weight and
power of a hammer breaking the rock in pieces. O how much
of the inner man remains impenetrably hidden under all that is
visible in the general aspect of society   To man himself it is an
unknown field, though the beings who are above man have all
their eyes upon it. In looking to human affairs, it is the only fie.ld
they deem worthy of contemplation.  The frail and fleeting materials of common history, are as nothing in the eye of those who
count nothing important but that which has stamped upon it the
character of eternity. To recommend it to them, it must have
the attribute of endurance; or, in other words, it must be related
to souls, which are the only subjects in this world that God hath
endued with the vigor of immortality.  Now the soul of man is
invisible to us, nor can we see, as through a window, its desires,
and its movements, and its silent aspirations.  There is a thick
Covering of sense thrown over it; and thus it is, that what, to the
eye of angels, appears the only worthy object of attention in the
history of the species, is, to the eye of man himself, an unknown
mystery.  His eye is engrossed with the glare of what is seen,
and of what is sensible; and the secrecies of the soul lie on the
background of his contemplation altogether.  He knows as little
about the busy doings which go on in the heart of his neighbor,
as he knows of what goes on on the surface of some remote and
undiscovered world. In the wideness of' immensity, there are
fields so distant as to be beyond the ken of eye or of telescope:
but there is also a field immediately around us, which lies wrapt
in unfathomable secrecy. O it is little dwelt upon by man. whose
thoughts are so taken up with what the eye seeth, and the ear can
listen to. But on this field there are doings of mightier import
than the whole visible universe lays before us. It forms part of
the world of spirits. It is the field of discipline for eternity. It
is the field on which is decided the fate of conscious and neverending existence.  It is a province in the moral government of
God, and in worth outweighs all the splendor and all the richness
of that material magnificence which is around us. The earth is
to be burned up, and the heavens are to pass away as a scroll;
but on this near, though unnoticed field, there is a mighty interest
now forming, which will survive the wreck of all that is visible:
and it is there that God gains accessions to his kingdom which endureth forever.
But there are two remarks by which we would limit and define
the extent of what is said by our Saviour, about the kingdom of
God coming not with observation. It holds true of every man who
becomes the subject of that kingdom, that by his fruits ye shall
know him. There is a visible style of' conduct which bespeaks




390                HOWE S LIVING TEMPLE.
him to be a different man from others, and a different man from
what he himself was before he entered into the kingdom of God.
Let the reign of God be established over the inner man, and it will
tell, and tell observably, upon the doings of the outer man. But
remark here, that though the kingdom of God may be the subject
of observation where it exists, yet the bringing of that kingdom
into existence, or, in other words, the coming of that kingdom may
not be with observation. Now, what is true of an individual, is
true of many. The formation of the kingdom of God, in the hearts
of the majority of a neighborhood, would give rise to a spectacle
fitted to strike the general eye; and there is something broadly
visible in the complexion of a renovated and moralized people.
There is a change of aspect in the doings of every man who is
born again, that meets the observation of his neighbors; and a
sufficient number of such men would give rise to such a general
change as to solicit general observation. But though the change,
after it is established, may excite their notice, yet the coming on
of the change may not excite their notice. The steps by which
it is accomplished may elude the notice of the generality alto —
gether. The little stone may be too small to draw upon it the attention of a distant world; but it may compel their attention by
its.progress, and even long before it filleth the whole earth, the
whole earth may be filled with inquiries after it. The work of the
Spirit is visible, but the working of the Spirit is not visible. He
bloweth where He listeth; and though the kingdom of God, that
he is to establish in the world, shall swallow up all the rest, and
by its magnitude force itself upon the general observation, yet, in
the first stages of its progress, and in the act of coming, it may
not be with observation.
Our other remark is, that though the kingdom of God cometh
not with observation, yet by the prophecies of God, the origin and
the sudden enlargement of that kingdom, have a place assigned to
them in the march of visible history.  The four great monarchies
form conspicuous eras in the history of man.  They come with
observation, and they mark, in a general way, the infancy, and the
growth, and the matured establishment of that kingdom which
cometh not with observation.  We lie at the feet of Nebuchadnezzar's image. This is the place in the descending scale of ages
which we occupy; and the present political aspect of Europe was
seen afar by the prophet Daniel through the vista of many generations. The ten kingdoms into which the Roman empire was divided, form the closing scene in his magnificent representation of
futurity; and it is this distant period which, in the mighty range
of his prophetic eye, he is employed in contemplating, when he
tells us of a kingdom made without hands, and, from the size of a
little stone, growing into a mountain which filled the whole earth.
The coming of these ten kingdoms carried on it a broad aspect,
which addressed itself to the senses of men. They were ushered




HOWE S LIVING TEMPLE.               391
in with all the notes and characters of preparation. Kings met,
and kings combated on a conspicuous arena; the loud uproar of
the battle was heard, and the rumor of it spread itself; and each
of the predicted kingdoms made its entrance into the world, with
the pomp, and the circumstance, and the visible insignia of war.
It is in the time of these kingdoms that the kingdom of God is to
break forth on every side; and the want of those visible accompaniments, which mark the progress and the establishment of other
kingdoms, signalizes the kingdom of God, and stamps upon it the
peculiar character of coming not with observation. There is a
silence and a secrecy in the progress of this kingdom, which do
not belong to the others. It has its signs too, but they are not
such signs as the Pharisees were looking for, when they asked
about the kingdom of God, and about the signs of its appearance.
The interpreters of prophecy have been watching, for whole centuries, all the variations which take place in the restless politics of
this world-they have been pursuing every fluctuation in the everchanging history of the times, —but the ten toes of Nebuchadnezzar's image still represent the great outline of European society.
It is not in the revolutions of political power that we are to look
for the direct or immediate symptom of God's approaching kingdom. The effect of that kingdom is to revolutionize the hearts of
men. The Alexander of a former day, filled with generous resentment at the wrongs of his outraged country, and gathering
energy from despair, and marching at the head of a population rallying around the standard of revenge, out of all his provinces, and
aided by the tempests of heaven, might have overwhelmed that
power whichhad spread its desolating triumphs over half the monarchies of Europe. But all this might have been done, and the
little stone have remained all the while stationary, and the flock of
Christ received no addition to its numbers; and should the same
rapacity of ambition exist among the rulers of the world, and the
same profligacy among the people, and the same baleful infidelity
among the learned, and the same lofty contempt for the holy
spirit and doctrines of the Gospel among the upper classes of
society, and the same devotedness to the good things of life spreading among all its classes a spiritual indifference to the law of God,
— then the kingdom of God has made no progress, and all the
characters of Antichrist stand as deeply engraved as ever upon
the aspect of the existing generation. But should the heart of the
present Nicholas receive a secret visit from that Spirit which
bloweth where He listeth-should it be turned, with all its affections, to the Saviour who died for him-should the renewed soul
of the monarch own in silent reverence the power of a higher
monarchy, and, instead of his plans and his purposes of ambition
and war, should his heart be filled with the holy ambition of dedicating all his means and all his energies to the spread of Christianity in the world; then, in the solitude of his inner chamber, an




392               HIOWE S LIVING TEMPLE.
unseen preparation might be going on for helping forward the establish.ment of the kingdom of God; and when we think of the
small place which these doings occupy in the columns of a gazette,
or in the deliberations of a cabinet, or in the earnest contemplation
of the general mind in Europe —above all, when we think that they
are chiefly carried on by men who, through the great mass of society, are derided or unknown —then may we well understand
how a kingdom, spreading its unseen influence through such private channels, and earning all its triumphs in the hearts and bosoms
of individuals, is a kingdom which cometh not with observation.
We may easily understand, fiom what has been stated, how
inefficient must be many of the methods which are actually resorted to for extending true religion, or the kingdom of God, in
the world. It is not by crusading it against the power of infidel
governments, that you will establish this kingdom. It is not by
enacting it against the heresy of unscriptural opinions, that you
will carry forward the establishment of this kingdom. It is not
by the solemn deliberations of a legislature, sitting in judgment
over questions that can only be carried into effect by the civil
authority of the state, that you can at all help forward the establishment of this kingdom in the world. We will venture to say,
that the mad enterprise of the middle ages did not add one subject to the kingdom of God. They may have stormed the holy
city, so as to plant upon its battlements the standard of Christendom; but they did not storm a single human heart, so as to
plant within it a principle of holiness. The citadel of the heart
must be plied with another engine; and the strong man who
reigns and who occupies there, may smile, and may sit in secure
defiance to the warlike preparations of a whole continent. No
external violence of any kind can force the will and the principle
of man to its subserviency. Whatever effect it may have on the
territory of earthly princes, it cannot add a single inch to the
territory of the kingdom of God; and that whether the instrument of religious frenzy be an army or a parliament. after expending all its force, and doing nothing, it is at length, by the
working of another instrument, and the silent but powerful efficacy of another expedient, that we make a way for the establishment of God's Living Temple in the world.
This brings us to the question, What is this instrument? The
Spirit of God is the agent in every conversion of every human
soul fiom Satan unto God. He is the alone effectual worker in
this matter, but He worketh by instruments; and it is our part to
put them  in readiness, and to do those things to the doing of
which He stands pledged to impart the efficacy of His all-subduing influences. It was the Spirit, and He alone, who gave the
apostles all the enlargement they got on the day of Pentecost:
but they put themselves in readiness, by obeying the prescribed
direction to go to Jerusalem; and there they waited and they




HOWE' S LIVING TEMPLE.              393
prayed for the promise of the Father. Had they not been at
their prescribed post, they would have obtained no part whatever
in the promised privilege; and in like manner we, with every
sentiment of dependence on the power of the Spirit, should, both
for ourselves and others, do those things, in the doing of which
alone we have reason to expect that He will come down with all
that energy of impression, and all that richness of gift and of
endowment, which belong to Him. The apostles were the human
instruments for the dispensation of the Spirit in those days; and
we cannot do better than to take our lesson from them, and observe what they had to do, that the Spirit of God, working along
with them, might turn the hearts of men, and extend the proper
kingdom of God over the proper ground which that kingdom has to
occupy. They laid before those to whom they addressed themselves the word of God, and they prayed for the Spirit of God, that
He might take hold of His own instrument, and make it bear with
effect upon the consciences and the understandings of men. The
lesson is a short one, but it comprises all that we have to do in the
work of extending Christianity through the world. Be it on our own
behalf, and with a view to brine down upon our own souls the
benefits of the Gospel, and the best thing we can turn ourselves
to is to read diligently the Bible, and to pray diligently for that
Spirit, who pours the brilliancy of a warm and affecting light
over all its pages. Be it on behalf of others, and with a view to
secure to them the benefits of the Gospel, then, if they are immediately around us, the best thing we can do is to ply them with
the instructions of the Bible, and to pray for the coming down
of that power which can alone give these instructions all their
efficacy. Hence the stationary apparatus of a country where
Christianity is established-consisting of sch.ols, where the reading of the Bible is taught; and churches, where the meaning of
the Bible is expounded; and official men, whose business it is to
pray themselves, and to press the exercise of prayer on others, to
that God who orders intercession in behalf of all, because He
willeth all to be saved. But should it be in behalf of men who
live in a distant country-and the precept of " Go and preach the
Gospel to every creature," gives a legitimacy to the attempts of
Christianizing them, which all the ridicule and all the wisdom of
this world cannot overthrow-then the stationary apparatus becomes a movable one; and the word of God, translated into
other languages, and human messengers to carry that word and
-to expound it —and Christians abroad to spread around them the
message of salvation, and Christians who stay at home praying to
the God of all influence, and giving Him no rest till He pour such
a blessing on other lands that there shall be no room to receive it.
This lays before us the godly apparatus, which we rejoice to observe is in growing operation among the men of the present day;
and while Bible Societies, and Missionary Societies, and Praying
49




394                HOWE S LIVING TEMPLE.
Societies, have the full cry of ridicule discharged upon them by
the men of the world —while the disgrace of an obscure and contemptible fanaticism is made to lie upon all these operationswhile the affairs of temporal kingdoms, and the fluctuations of
their ever-veering politics, fill up the columns of every newspaper,
and form the talk of every company-there are holy men now
dealing with the hearts and the principles of the people in our
own country, and of savages in distant lands; and amid all the
noisy contempt and resistance they have gathered around them,
with the sanction of apostolical example, and the persevering use
of apostolical instruments, are they working their silent, but effectual way to the magnificent result, and the final establishment of
the kingdom of God in the world.
And thus it is, that men become themselves living temples of
God, and that God's living temple, his spiritual kingdom, is extended and established throughout the world. And we cannot
better reply to the question, What is the best instrument for promoting and extending the kingdom of God in the world? than by
referring our readers to the following Treatise of JOHN HOWE,
" The Living Temple, or a Good Man the Temple of God."
This Treatise, which we have introduced to the notice of our
readers, is less known to the Christian public than some of the
other productions of this celebrated author. It is not because that,
either in itself or in its subject, it possesses less worth or less importance than those pieces of this author, which are better known
and have acquired greater popularity-for, in respect to both. it
holds a high rank among the numerous and valuable productions
of this much-admired writer. But we apprehend the reason of
its not obtaining such general circulation, arises from the circumstance of' the main subject of the Treatise-the formation of God's
Living Temple in the world-being intermingled with his lengthened and elaborate demonstrations of the existence of God-and
from his profound and metaphysical controversies with Spinoza
and the French infidels, respecting the uncreated Being, and the
eternal self-existence of the Deity, extending through nearly half
the original Treatise.  And, though we hold this profound and
erudite exposure of atheism, to contain the most perfect and unanswerable demonstration of the existence of a God with which
we are acquainted-yet the deep and metaphysical character of
his argumentation, renders it too occult and abstruse to be easily
apprehended by ordinary readers; and thus is it fitted to repel
them from entering on a piece of superlative excellence. It was
under this conviction, and to render the Treatise more acceptable
and useful to the Christian public, that we have divested the present edition of those elaborate disquisitions, into which he had been
drawn by the French infidels, and which were extraneous to the
specific design of the work, and have only presented our readers
with what relates to the author's main subject —the method by




HOWE'S LIVING TEMPLE.                395
which the reign of truth and holiness is established in the hearts
of men, in order to their becoming temples of the Living God.
To those who desiderate a full and comprehensive exhibition of
the Gospel scheme, for the restoration of our fallen and apostate
race to the lost image and communion of the Godhead, we would
recommend this invaluable Treatise to their perusal. He gives a
deeply affecting, but justly descriptive representation of the apostasy, and consequent ruin and depravity of man, in his melancholy
but magnificent delineation of the ruined, desolate, and forsaken
condition of that noble Living Temple, where God once dwelt,
and which was once blessed and beautified by the Divine Presence. And he gives a no less powerful and scriptural representation of the wisdom and glory, of the plans and purposes, of the
Divine Mind, for the rebuilding of this fallen and deserted temple
by Emmanuel, that God might, in perfect consistency with the
holiness and righteousness of His august government, again tabernacle with man-and that the love, and the loyalty, and the obediencne which were due to Heaven's great Monarch, might be reestablished in the hearts of men, in order that they might again
be restored to that blissful communion and intercourse with God
which they had forfeited by their apostasy. And who can estimate the might and the magnitude of that great undertaking, by
which Emmanuel achieved the restoration of this ruined temple?
How the temple of His own body had to be destroyed, that by
His sufferings and death He might expiate the guilt of an apostate world-and make reparation for the offence done to Heaven's
righteous government-and effect a reconciliation between God
and His alienated creatures-and obtain the communication of the
Holy Spirit to renovate and adorn this desolated ruin, that the
great Inhabitant might return and again occupy His long-deserted
temple.  It is because men are insensible to the extent of the ruin
and the desolation which sin has effected, that they are so insensible to the greatness of that deliverance which the Saviour had
to achieve for the restoration of man to the enjoyment of the Divine Presence.
To establish the reign of truth and holiness in the hearts of men,
and thus to render them fit temples for the Divinity, is the grand
and ultimate design of God in that wonderful dispensation which
is revealed in the Gospel. 0 it is little thought of by men, in
whose hearts the god of this world has established his reign, what
a mighty change must be effected ere they become living temples
of God! It is because they are so insensible to the nature and
extent of the ruin, that they are so insensible to the magnitude of
that change which they must undergo ere they become fit for the
divine residence. It is not a repair, but a rebuilding. It is not a
reform, but a thorough regeneration. It is fearful to think of the delusion which prevails in the great mass of society respecting this
mighty change. It is not merely the infidel and the practical atheist,




396                HOWE S LIVING TEMPLE.
to whom HOWE SO well addresses the language of terror and alarm,
that require to be awakened. When we think of the spiritless indifference, and cold irreligion of many professors of Christianity
-when we think of the lukewarm  decencies, and heartless conformities, of many who profess their attachment to the Saviourand compare them with that spirituality of mind, and renovation
of heart, which this excellent author so well sets forth, as constituting the Living Temple, it may well alarm the consciences of
many a decent and reputable professor of the Gospel. And it
ought to reach conviction to the heart of many, whose complacency in their own state has never been disturbed, that, amidst
the many earth-born qualities and endowments with their character
in society is adorned-while their hearts are devoted to earthliness,
and the world forms the object of their idolatrous affections-they
are still unfit for the divine residence, and are living without God
in the world.
Now, it is the scriptural view of the magnitude of the change
that is implied in becoming a Christian, which makes Christianity, in the entire sense of the term, so revolting both to the pride
and the sagacity of nature. It looks so wild and impossible an
enterprise to draw away the affections from that which appears
to give life and motion to the whole of human industry. The demand appears so extravagant, when asked to renounce our liking
for what all men like —and we appear to be pushing the exactions
of religion so unreasonably far, when we represent it as incompatible with the love of wealth, or grandeur, or animal gratification-that to the eye of many a cool and sober-minded citizen, it
appears in the light of a very unlikely speculation. With the
eye of a strong practical understanding, much and judiciously
exercised in the realities of business, he regards the man of such
lofty and spiritual lessons as a visionary altogether-but he
shrewdly guesses that there is no danger of obtaining many real
disciples to a system, so utterly at variance with the most urgent
principles of the human constitution.
Now, to repel the contempt, and also the apparent common
sense of all this resistance, we might easily demonstrate, that
without any mitigation whatever of the spirit of Christianity, the
service of God would still remain a reasonable service. But we
shall content ourselves with urging upon you one argument which
the Bible furnishes, which is, that the world passeth away, and
the lust thereof. There is a result pointed to here, ye sage and
calculating men, who are looking so intently forward to the result
of your varied speculations. There is an event which is surely
coming upon you all, and which will put to shame all the glory of
secular wisdom, and hurry to a prostrate ruin all the might and
magnificence of your grovelling enterprises. In a few little years,
and time will arbitrate this question. It will tell us who is the
visionary-he who is wise for this world, or he who is wise for




HOWE'S LIVING TEMPLE.               397
eternity. A day is coming, when the busy ambition of your lives
will all be broken up-when death will smile, in ghastly contempt,
over the vanity of earthly affections —when, summoning you away
from this warm and comfortable dwelling-place, he will call your
body to its grave, and your spirit to its reckoning-and upon the
falling down of that screen which separates the two worlds, will
it appear that the man who has sought his portion among the
schemes, and the pursuits, and the passing shadows of our present
state, was indeed the visionary. With this element of computation do we neutralize all the contempt which nature feels and
nature expresses against the abstractions of a spiritual Christianity-and pronounce of him who disowns it, that he is indeed the
blind and pitiable maniac, wasting himself upon trifles, and lost
and bewildered among the fiivolities of an idiot's dream.
On entering some busy place of commercial intercourse, and
perceiving what it is that forms the ruling desire of every heart,
and the ruling topic of every conversation-and feeling the resistless evidence that is before him, of the world being the restingplace of every individual, and its perishable objects forming all
that they long for, and all that they labor after-and, at the same
time, observing what a face of respectable intelligence is thus
lavished on the pursuits of earthliness-a Christian looker-on cannot but feel the strength of that discountenance which is thus laid
on the views and the principles of spiritual men. The vast aggregate of mind and of example in the world appears to be against
him; and he feels as if left alone to his own visionary speculation,
a gaze of universal contempt was directed against that peculiarity, in which he meets so few to share and to sympathize with
him. But let him only look a little further on, and this will both
revive his confidence, and retort on the whole opposing species
the very charge by which he was well nigh overwhelmed. In a
few years, and all that is visible of the mass of life, and thought,
and ambition, that is before him, will be a mouldering mass of dust
and rottenness in the churchyard. There is evermore a rapid
transference of that living crowd, one by one, from the place of
business to the place of burial. In a few years, and the transference will be completed, and every one of these intense, and eager,
and speculative beings, shall have disappeared from this busy
scene, and shall have gone to share in the still more awfully interesting and important scenes of eternity.




INTRODUCTORY ESSAY
TO
THE SELECT LETTERS
OF THE
REV. WILLIAM  ROMAINE, A.M.
IN our former Essay to Mr. ROMAINE'S Treatises on the Life,
Walk, and Triumph of Faith, we observed, that the great and
unceasing topics on which he delighted to expatiate were, the
atoning blood and perfect righteousness of Christ, as forming the
great and only foundation of his hope and of his confidence towards God. These important doctrines of the Christian faith,
form the no less favorite and oft-recurring theme which pervades,
and is diffused through the whole texture of the excellent Letters
of which the present volume is composed. And though they
may not be fitted to stimulate the understanding, or to regale the
fancy of the merely intellectual reader; yet, to the simple-hearted
and spiritually-minded Christian, these precious and consoling
truths, however frequently presented, will be felt in all the freshness and power of their peace-making, holy, and regenerating
influence. In this respect, he imitated the example of the great
apostle of the Gentiles, who expressed his determination to know
nothing among his people " save Jesus Christ and Him crucified."
We have frequently insisted on one great claim that the doctrine of Christ crucified has upon our attention; namely, that, by
the knowledge of it, we obtain deliverance from the greatest
calamity which hangs over our species; and that is, the curse of
God's violated law, with all the pains and penalties which are
consequent thereupon. We shall, in our following observations,
advert to another mighty claim which the same doctrine has upon
our attention; namely, that, by the knowledge of it, we farther
obtain the meritorious, or the rightful possession of God's favor;
so that we do not simply enter upon the bliss of eternity as having become ours in fact, and by a mere deed of generosity, but
we enter upon it as having become ours in equity, and by a deed
of justice. Through Christ crucified we acquire a title to heaven




ROMAINE S SELECT LETTERS.             399
as our reward, and that as much as if we ourselves had done that
stipulated work, for which heaven was rendered to us as the
stipulated wages: and this is a very different footing from that
of the bare conveyance of a gift, for it is a conveyance that is
secured and shielded by the guarantees of a covenant; so as to
make it, not a mere act of mercy, but an act of righteousness for
God to bestow; and we, in receiving, lay hold not merely of a
donative, but also of our due.
Now, there are many who do not perceive that this second
privilege, of being instated, through Christ crucified, in a righteousness before God, is essentially distinct from the former privilege, that of being delivered from guilt. They contemplate the
whole of a sinner's reconciliation with God, as one general benefit
coming out of the atonement that has been rendered for him on
the cross, and which does not admit of being severed into parts,
as has been done by the adepts of an artificial and scholastic
theology.  They are not disposed to look separately to our being
freed from condemnation, and so rescued from hell; and to our
being vested with a positive righteousness, and so made the rightful heirs and expectants of heaven. They would rather abide by
their habit of viewing the gift that is by Jesus Christ as one and
indivisible; and regard the attempt to decompose it into ingredients, more as a subtilty of human invention, than as the dictate
of a mind that has been soundly and scripturally informed. And
thus would they treat lightly the distinction that has been so
much urged by some theologians, between the passive and the
active obedience of Christ; or between the efficacv of the one to
redeem from the incurred penalty, and the efficacy of the other
to reinstate in the forfeited reward; between the tendency of
His sufferings to avert all the wrath of the Divinity, and so to
turn away from us the displeasure under which we lay, and the
tendency of His services to restore to us the forfeited reward,
and so transfer to us, for whom these services were undertaken,
God's favor and kindness, as much as if they had been rendered
in our own person and by our own performances. This attempt
to mark off the mediatorship of Christ into two great departments, has been branded as an attempt to be wise above that
which is written; and, when pursued into the still greater nicety
of endeavoring to trace and to follow it throughout the line of
demarcation that is betwixt them, then has the whole speculation
been denounced as one that ministers questions of strife rather
than of godly edifying, and to which we cannot turn aside, without being involved in perverse disputings, and the jangling of vain
controversy.
Now, we fully participate in this dislike at all such metaphysics
of theology, as minister nothing in the way of comfort, or of direction, or of salutary influence to the plain mind of a plain and
practical inquirer. And therefore we shall attempt nothing at




400              ROMAINE S SELECT LETTERS.
present that is not quite broad and palpable, and shall avoid everything that would require an eye of very minute or microscopic
discrimination.  It may be a matter of no great usefulness so to
arrange and to classify the privileges of a believer, as accurately
to refer each to the distinct services by which Christ hath insured
it for those who put their trust in Him. But surely it is of importance to know what these privileges are, and for this purpose
to make them the objects, if not of any acute or subtile exercise
of the understanding, at least of simple enumeration. And we
should feel as if much had been left untold, were we not made to
know that Christ hath brought in an everlasting righteousness, as
well as finished transgressions, and made an end of sins —that He
hath won for us the reward of heaven, as well as averted fiom
us the vengeance of hell-that He hath not only redeemed us
from the sentence of death, but hath built up for us a title unto life
everlasting-that, besides expunging our name from the book of
condemnation, He hath graven it in the book of life-that, instead
of standing before God simply as acquitted creatures, and therefore preserved from the place of condemnation, we stand before
Him in the robe of another's righteousness, and therefore with
the investiture of such an order of merit, as makes it fit that we
should be translated to a high place of favor and of dignity. We
want not to probe and to penetrate into the hidden intricacies of
the question. But surely, if to be simply dismissed from the bar
at which we stood as arraigned criminals be one thing, and it be
another to be thence preferred to a title of renown, or to some
station wherewith happiness and honor await us near the palace
of our sovereign, then it concerns us to know that there is a justification as well as an atonement; that there is a righteousness as
well as a redemption; that Christ hath done more than advance
us to the negative or midway condition of mere innocence; that
He hath wrought out for us a mightier transition than to a state
of exemption from the torments of the accursed; that He hath
not only retrieved our condition, but hath reversed it, utterly
changing the character of our eternity, and turning it from an eternity of torment to an eternity of triumph-having both borne the
full weight of our sufferings by taking on Himself the guilt of our
sins, and having given us of His own righteousness, as our passport and title-deed to the glories of paradise.
And this view is not without warrant and authority from Scripture. The redemption which is through the blood of Christ is the
forgiveness of sins. The righteousness of Christ, which is made
to rest on all who believe, brings along with it a title to positive
favor, which is something more than forgiveness. The creditor
who cancels our debt, does us a distinct and additional good, when,
furthermore, he puts the deeds or the documents into our hands
by which we are constituted the rightful claimants of any given
property. And so Christ, in one place, is represented as a surety




ROMAINE S SELECT LETTERS.             401
for the sins of those who believe in Him; and in another, as having purchased for them an inheritance, to which they, and they
alone, have the right of entry and of possession. Moreover, we
read of Christ being " delivered for our ofbences, and raised again
for our justification;" or, that by His death He made atonement
for sin; and by His resurrection He re-entered heaven, and is
there employed in preparing those mansions by which are rewarded the righteousness of those who believe in Him. One fruit
of the mediation of Christ is said to be peace with God. But not
only so, writes the apostle; in addition to having drawn back His
hostility, He sends forth upon us His loving-kindness. And hence
another fruit of the mediation is, that we have access to the grace
wherein we stand. Yet it must be owned, that, notwithstanding
the real distinction which there is between release from a penalty
and admittance to a positive reward, and the corresponding distinction that has been made by theologians, between the passive
obedience of Christ, by which it is held that the one has been
averted, and the active obedience of Christ, by which it is held that
the other has been rightfully earned for us,-it must be owned, we
say, notwithstanding, that it is the obedience of Christ unto the death
which seems to have formed the main price, not only of all the immunities, but of all the privileges that believers enjoy. It was from
His death that the incense of a sweet-smelling savor arose unto God.
It was because of His death that God highly exalted Him, and gave
Him a name above every name. It was from the grave that He
ascended, rich in the spoils of a superabundant merit, wherewith
He decks and dignifies all His followers. And thus there is not
only a remission, but a righteousness that has been wrought out
by the expiation on the cross. It was there that He became sin
for us, though He knew no sin; and it was also in virtue of what
has been done there, that we are made the righteousness of God
in Him. The hope of our glory, as well as the price of our deliverance, stands connected with the knowledge of Jesus Christ
and Him crucified.
We affirm it to be of the very essence of Gospel mercy, that,
instead of a mere demonstration of Heaven's love, there went along
with it a full demonstration of Heaven's righteousness-that it
rendered glory to the law, and by the very act wherewith it rendered grace unto those who had trampled on the law. The forgiveness that is unto the sinner under this dispensation, bears upon
it an awful character of sacredness and majesty-seeing that it
never could have issued on a guilty world but through the channel of a consecrated priesthood, and with the blood of a divine expiation. There is pity on high to the children of men-but it is
pity enshrined in holiness, and to which there is no other way of
access than by the safeguards of a government that is unchangeable. We cannot come unto the throne of grace but through a
medlatorship, where at once may be seen the manifested truth
51




402                MAAIAINE'S SELECT LETTERS.
and vindicated justice of the Godhead-nor can we obtain the compassion of our offended Lawgiver, without knocking at the door
of a sactuary, where dwell, in still unviolated purity and greatness, all the wondrous attributes that belong to Him.
Now, this is what we hold to be the leading and the characteristic peculiarityof the dispensation under which we live. All that
we receive is, doubtless, in the way of a gift-and yet it is a gift
for which a price has been rendered, so as to make it legally and
rightfully ours. The penalty is remitted to us, but not till it was
paid down, as it were, by another's sufferings. Heaven has been
granted to us, but not till it was purchased by another's services.
So that the believer has not merely privileges simply and gratuitously conferred upon him; but he is invested with a right to these
privileges.  He can lay claim to them as a thing of obligationnot in virtue of any equivalent that has been rendered by himself,
but in virtue of a full equivalent that has been rendered by another.
When eternal life is bestowed upon us, it is not in the shape of a
bare donative, the fruit of a movement of generosity alone. It is a
reward granted to us on consideration of a righteousness, although
that righteousness is not properly and personally ours. Still, it
is the fulfilment of a stipulation —the implementing of a contract
or a covenant between parties; and when man enters upon his
blissful eternity, he only takes possession of that which is his due,
and which God hath bound Himself, as by the conditions of a
treaty, to award unto him.
And here it is of importance to mark-how much more secure
our hope of heaven is. when laid upon such a foundation. Had
the sinner nothing else to build upon than the single attribute of
mercy, well might he dread the outbreaking upon his person of
the other attributes, and feel the perpetual disturbance of fears
and of jealousies in his bosom, as he bethought him of the majesty
of God, and the unchangeable recoil of a nature that could hold
no fellowship with evil. Now, how it must overrule these terrors, when, with the righteousness of Christ as a plea put into his
hand, he now finds even the most menacing attributes of the Divinity enlisted on the side of his salvation. Were his hopes suspended singly on the pity of God, while the question of all his
other perfections was yet undisposed of, there would still be room
in the sinner's heart for many doubts and many disquietudes.
But how it must allay all these, and what firmness it must give to
his anticipations of heaven, when, instead of vaguely trusting for
it to the indulgence of God, he in Christ hath acquired a distinct
and a well-defined right to it. He is like the man who at first
eyed some beautiful estate with fond and foolish expectation, because of the reported generosity of him who owned it-but who
afterwards had the title-deed put into his hand, on which he might
challenge the property as his own, and step into the secure and
undisputed possession of it. And thus may a Christian look for



ROMIAINE S SELECT LETTERS.             403
ward to heaven.  He can plead a right for it. He can argue in
his behalf a purchase-money that is commensurate to the purchase. He can speak of a value that has been given, and which
is adequate to the value that he expects. And he lives beneath
his privileges-he is insensible to the whole worth and security
of his condition, if his spirit do not rest and be at ease among the
guarantees of a sure and a well-ordered covenant-and if, while
he rejoices in the gift of his coming inheritance, he do not fortify
his trust by thinking well of the soundness and the equity of his
claim to it.
But while we like to say everything to a believer that should
minister to the stability of his confidence, we would sav nothing
that could minister to his pride, or excite a sense of haughity independence in his bosom. It is not as if he defied God, and entered
with Him on a field of litigation. It is not as if he challenged,
and with a tone of resolute assertion, that which he felt to be
rightfully his own, and demanded it accordingly.  What might
disarm him of this spirit altogether is, that though now possessed
of a right to the citizenship of heaven, the right was not won by
himself, but conferred upon him by a Mediator.  It is not an inherent, but a derived privilege, and for which he stands indebted
to another's bounty. What. we ask, are the suitable feelings
with which he ought to prosecute his claim upon God, when, in
fact, God was the Being who furnished him with this claim against
himself? God so loved the world, as to send His Son into it, that
He might legalize a place and a possession in heaven for all who
believe on Him. Should the lorldly proprietor make over to a
tenant at will the privilege of a perpetual occupation, and give
him secure and rightful possession of all the requisite title-deeds,
and furnish him out of his own hand with the materials of such
a plea or legal argument as might insure him against all opposition: all this goes to vest him with the power of challenging for
his own, that which has been conferred upon him by another.
But this, so far from impairing the character of what he has gotten as a gift, only serves to complete and to enhance it, and should
humble him the more into the gratitude and admiration of so noble
a benefactor. And so of all that we obtain by the Gospel. It is
a gift all over; and though it includes titles as well as benefits, let
it ever be remembered, that they are not titles that we have
earned, but titles that have been bestowed upon us. It is the
thought of this that should rectify our carriage towards God. It
is true, that by the economy of the New Testament, they who believe have a right to the honors of immortality. But the right has
been given. It has generously and gratuitously descended from
above; and they on whom it hath alighted, while they rejoice in
the security thereof, still walk before God with the modesty of
His gifted dependents. So far from being arrogant, because of
the claim wherewith they have been invested, it only serves as




404              ROM3AINE'S SELECT LETTERS.
another topic of humility and thankfulness. They appear before
God in a robe of righteousness, but they know that it is a robe of
His putting on. In His presence they wear an order of merit,
but what they wear another hath won-the meed of another's services-the fruit of the travail of another's soul.  They feel the
whole security of an unquestionable right without its arrogance,
and are at once high in the conscious possession of their great
prerogative, and humble under the feeling that they are debtors
for it all.  The reward is a gift; for the righteousness which hath
earned the reward is a gift also. Heaven may at first be thougitA
of, not as a present but as a purchase; but it is the more emphatically a present, that by another's purchase it has become
justly and legally theirs. It is this which gives its specific character to the economy of the Gospel. It is free in the distribution
of its blessings; yet, ere the blessings are granted, there must be
granted a right to the possession of them —and the sinner having
no such right in his own person, must derive it from abroad, and
owe that to another, which in himself it is impossible to acquire.
Heaven becomes his, not merely in love, but in law: and in consideration of Him who hath fulfilled the law, the bliss of eternity
is as much awarded to him by a God of judgment, as it is made
over to him by a God of mercy. Yet the law does not obliterate
the love, but only makes it more prominent. For it was in love
that God sent His Son into the world, and in love for the guilty
did the Son, in their stead, obey all the precepts, and suffer all the
penalties; and though without a righteousness none shall enter
into paradise, yet was it love that provided the righteousness, and
now presses it on the acceptance of all. None shall be admitted
into heaven but from the vantage ground of a finished obedience;
but it was God Himself who reared the vantage ground, and who
placed the believer thereupon. The whole security of a righteousness is His, the whole glory of it is another's. That he shall
have a righteousness is indispensable. For this there seems to
have been some deep and awful necessity in the divine jurisprudence; and it has been so provided for, that now the sinner can
rightfully claim, and God, without the compromise of His character as a Judge, can rightfully bestow. But the very thing which
has established the sinner's plea, has deepened the sinner's obligations; and, in very proportion to the triumph which he feels because of the validity of his right, are both the gratitude and the
self-renunciation wherewith, in the language of the prophet, he
makes the declaration-" In the Lord have I righteousness."
We shall close our remarks by adverting to a phrase that we
often hear uttered, in the act of combating the resistance of man
to the overtures of the Gospel; and that is, the legal spirit. Now,
if by this be meant the demand that nature has for a righteousness wherein to appear before God-this is just as it should be.
There is, and there ought to be, a secret misgiving of the heart




ROMAINE S SELECT LETTERS.               405
when nothing but the general mercy of God is before us, on which
to build our reliance.  The thought of God's other attributes will
intrude and mar the soul's attempt to tranquillize itself. The sense
of a holy and unalterable law, whose demands must be met in one
way or other, is ever present to the conscience; and, without
some adjustment in which it can repose, will leave it unsatisfied.
There is a longing for the bliss of eternity, but at the same time
a certain unutterable sense upon the heart, that without a something whereby the justice of God might be propitiated, and a
homage might be done to the principles of a government that is
lofty and unchangeable, this bliss can never be arrived at. We
feel, that ere we can enter upon life everlasting, every legal penalty must be done away, and a sufficient legal plea be established
on which to found our right of admittance before the throne of
God. The notions and the feelings of jurisprudence are mixed
up with our every speculation on the road to heaven; and it is
the inextinguishable sentiment of every bosom, that, in order to
man being inducted there, a something must be done upon which
God might hold him to be righteous, and deal with him accordingly. A sense of the need of such a righteousness is universal,
and is historically marked both by the sacrifices of heathenism,
and by the manifold labors and formalities of superstitions both in
and out of Christendom. There is the unexcepted sense of a
great moral jurisdiction on the part of God over his creatures,
and of a law which they are bound to observe-and of the need
that there is, if men shall obtain the rewards and preferments of
eternity at all, that the law shall give the authority of its consent,
so that they may be legally and rightfully conveyed to him.
Hence, under all the disguises of all the superstitions upon earth,
the universal cry of man for a righteousness in order to find acceptance with his God —a cry which the Bible does not resist, but
to which it fully and explicitly responds, when it affirms of the
sanctions of the law, that they are irreversible, and that heaven
and earth must pass away rather than that one jot or one tittle of
the law shall fail.
Now, it may serve to guide us out of all our perplexities, and
to establish us on the right landing-place. did we see what is right,
and accurately distinguish it from what is wrong in this legal
spirit. In so tir then, as the legal spirit prompts him by whom it
is actuated, to seek for a legal right of admittance into heaven, we
have nothing to say against it. It seems the general apprehension
of nature, in all countries and in all ages, that there is no reaching a habitation of bliss and of divine favor through eternity, but
by the stepping-stone of a righteousness-and this apprehension
we hold to be a sound one. The error lies not in seeking such a
sighteousness, but in seeking it from the wrong quarter. The
capital delusion is in attempting to build up a righteousness out of




406              ROMAINE S SELECT LETTERS.
our own doings, instead of fleeing for shelter under the offered
righteousness that has already been built up out of the doings of
another. This is all that we hold to be wrong in the legal spirit;
for, in as far as the mere attempt to make up a title-deed is concerned-in as far as the wish is felt to have a right of entry to the
inheritance that is above put into our hands, which may be examined at the court of Heaven's judicatory, and be there sustained
as in every way valid and constitutional,-this, for which nature
everywhere has so strong an appetite, so far from being denounced
as wrong in Scripture, it is the great design of the Gospel to meet
and to satisfy.  The object in the general is not wrong-though
it is very possible that we may go miserably astray, by looking
for it in a wrong direction. It is by looking for it in ourselves
that we err so grievously, when we should look unto Jesus Christ,
and say, in the words of the prophet, "In the Lord have I righteousness."  The errand upon which he came, was to bring a
righteousness into the world, that each sinner who would, might
lay hold of his sacred and available plea for admittance into heaven.  This is the righteousness that God hath ordained as the
channel of approach, by which even the worst of transgressors
may draw nigh; of which they are all invited to make confident
mention in their prayers for acceptance; and on account of which
God stands pledged to accept and to reward them accordingly.
In the New Testament it is called the righteousness of' God. It
is not because of our desire for a righteousness that we are on
the wrong path to heaven; but, because instead of submitting to
this righteousness of God, we seek to establish one of our own.
In a word, it is self-righteousness that is the great stumbling-block
in our way.  It is the vain enterprise of working an adequate
and a satisfying merit out of our own obedience. It is challenging
the inspection of our almighty Lawgiver, on a heart that has
deeply revolted against him, and on a history deformed by transgressions innumerable-and bidding him  look thereupon with
complacency. It is laboring to arrive at rest by means of a degraded law, brought down to the standard of our own weak and
worthless compliances-and without homage to the purity and
the unchangeableness of Heaven's government,-it is arrogating
the rewards of Heaven for our own polluted righteousness, as
being in itself good enough for God. Now this is the tendency
of nature against which the Gospel hath set itself —not to thwart
our demand for a righteousness, but to lay in the dust all confidence in a righteousness of our own,-and after having asserted
the prerogatives of an outraged law, by laying the whole burden
of its atonement and obedience on Him who hath suffered in our
stead, and in our stead hath fulfilled all righteousness; to make
open proclamation to our world, that all are welcome unto Godthat now there is a wav of access unto him, even for the most




ROMAINE S SELECT LETTERS.              407
grievous of offenders,-but that this way is, and must be, under
the cover of the great Mediatorship. You will breathe a new
air, you will break forth on a scene of freedom and enlargement;
all will be light, and love, and liberty, the moment that you can
say, with the concurrence of your faith, "In the Lord have I
righteousness:" and, feeling that nothing else will avail for Heaven's approbation, you can join the apostle in his sentiment, that,
for the meritorious favor of God, I desire to count as nothing my
own services: I desire and am determined "' to know nothing else
save Jesus Christ and Him crucified."
We know of no Treatise better fitted to banish the legal spirit,
or to dispossess the mind of its natural tendencies to establish a
righteousness of our own, than the excellent LETTERS of Mr. RoMAINE, which we have given in the present selection. The Letters were all addressed to friends, for whose spiritual welfare the
author cherished a deep interest; and they were therefore designed to communicate comfort, or counsel, or direction, for resolving the doubts, or relieving the perplexities to which the
Christian is exposed. To dissipate these doubts and perplexities,
which he well knew originated most frequently in a self-righteous
spirit, he continually directs their believing view to Jesus Christ.
And well knowing that the manifestations of the love and grace
of our heavenly Father, revealed to the soul by the blessed Saviour, could alone dispel the fears and the jealousies of nature, his
constant aim was to point their eye, and direct their steps, to
" the Lamb of God, who taketh away the sins of the world."
And thus, by the simple reliance of faith on the all-sufficient
atonement and perfect righteousness of Christ, he directed them
to find that peace and hope which could alone sustain their souls
in the serenity of their confidence towards God, and to obtain
those spiritual communications of grace, which could alone nourish the divine life within them, and carry them forward in a progressive course of sanctification and holiness, to render them
meet for heaven. Richly experiencing these consolations and
hopes in his own soul, and knowing the alone source from whence
they were derived, the doctrine of the cross became the subject
of his constant meditation, and the name of Jesus the much-loved
theme on which he delighted to expatiate. Amidst all his difficulties and perplexities, his confidence was stayed with the assurance
that " the Lord reigneth;" and, by judging Him faithful who had
promised, he maintained in his soul a rejoicing hope of eternal
life, through his Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. It was thus that
he maintained a perennial and unfading communion with God —
that he daily and habitually rejoiced in the light of his reconciled
countenance-that his gratitude and love were sustained in a
strong and invariable glow-and that his sanctification and holiness were promoted. And no one can peruse the following Let



408              ROMAINE'S SELECT LETTERS.
ters, without perceiving that the doctrines of free grace are doctrines according to godliness —that they serve no less to aliment
the love and the obedience, than the peace and the joy of the
believer-and that justification by faith in the Saviour's righteousness alone, forms not only the surest ground of hope, but the best
security for an humble and holy devotedness of life to God.




INTRODUCTORY ESSAY
TO A TREATISE
ON THE FAITH AND INFLUENCE OF THE GOSPEL.
BY THE REV. ARCHIBALD HALL.
IT is remarkable, that our Saviour, after foretelling the destrirction of Jerusalem, and giving the assurance that He will speedily
come to avenge His elect, makes this solemn and awakening inquiry:'Nevertheless. when the Son of man cometh, shall He
find faith on the earth?" We cannot so far dive into the unrevealed secrets of prophecy, as to affirm how much, or how little,
of analogy there is between the destruction of Jerusalem and the
final dissolution of our world. It is impossible, in reading the
woes and denunciations of our Saviour upon this subject, to rid
ourselves of the impression, that there is a general resemblance
between these two events. Both of them are described under
the figure of the coming of the Son of man. At both of them
there is a work of vengeance to be done, and a fell manifestation
given of God's wrath against the finally and obstinately impenitent. In both an old economy is entirely swept away, and a new
order of things emerges from the ruins of it. But there is one
point of the comparison, at which, instead of a likeness, we believe it to be the general apprehension of Christians. that there
must be a strong dissimilarity. We are apt to look forward to a
mighty spread and revival of the Gospel in the latter days. Ere
the day of judgment shall arrive, we count on the restoration of
Jews, and the flocking in of Heathens, and the consummation of
a great moral triumph over the world's blindness and depravity;
and, in short, a whole species visibly awakened from the lethargy
of nature, and turned, intently turned, on the things of eternity.
Now, we dispute not that in our book of prophecy there is a
warrant for all these expectations. But the difficulty is, how to
find an adjustment between these high millennial hopes on the one
hand; and on the other, the sudden and overwhelming surprise
wherewith the last day is to come on an unbelieving world. If it
be as applicable to the breaking up of our globe as it was to the
breaking up of Jerusalem, that its coming is to be as a thief in the
52




410               HALL S TREATISE ON THE
night, and that it shall bear with it a sudden destruction, on men
steeped in the delusion of all around them being peace and safety,
and that, wholly given over to earthliness, they shall be caught
at unawares, while " eating and drinking, marrying and giving in
marriage,"-if it be really true, that it is in the midst of holiday
enjoyments, and among the songs of mirth and revelry, that the
sound of the last trumpet shall be heard, and the Judge is to
descend with the authority of a sudden arrest on all the pursuits
and frivolities of a then unthinking generation, may it not, after
all, be true of this His latter visitation, as it was of His former
one, that when the Son of man cometh He shall not find faith
upon the earth?
Now we shall leave the difficulty where we found it-and instead of devising explanations for other men and other ages, let us
try to ascertain in how far the rebuke of the Saviour is applicable
to ourselves.
But ere we proceed, let us, in explanation of the term.faith, advert to the wide distinction which obtains between the popular
imagination of what it is, and the apostle's definition of what it is.
The common conception about it is, that it consists in a correct
apprehension of the truths of theology-or soundness of belief as
opposed to error of belief. It appears to be a very prevalent impression, that faith lies in our judging rightly of the doctrines of
the Bible-or that we have a proper understanding of them. And,
in this way, the privileges annexed to faith in the New Testament, are very apt to be regarded as a sort of remuneration for
the soundness of our orthodoxy. Heaven is viewed as a kind of
reward, if not for the worth of our doings, at least for the worth
and the justness of our dogmata. Under the old economy, eternal
life was held out as a return to us for right practice. Under the
new economy, is it conceived by many, that it is held out to us as
a return for right thinking. Figure two theologians to be listed,
the one against the other, in controversy. He who espouses error
is estimated to be a heretic, and wanting in the faith. He who
espouses truth, is estimated to be a sound believer, so that his faith
resolves itself into the accuracy of his creed. It is not, Do this,
and you shall live-but it is, Think thus, and you shall live,-and
this seems to be the popular and prevailing imagination of being
saved by faith, and being justified by faith.
Now look to the apostolical definition of faith, as being the " substance of things hoped for, and the evidence of things not seen"
-or as being that, which substantiates or realizes the things that
we hope for, and which makes plain to our conviction the things
that we do not see. It is the assured expectation of that which
we hope for, and the assured conviction of that which we do not
see-and lest any obscurity should be left to hang over this his
description of faith, he exemplifies it by the history of many prophets and eminent worthies who had gone before him. In the




FAITH AND INFLUENCE OF THE GOSPEL.           411
reading of this catalogue, we find, that with all the instances, there
was such a living power and truth given to the things that are
distant and unseen, as caused them to overbear the impression of
things that are visible, and of things that were at hand. The faith
of these excellent ones, gave that character of certainty to invisi
ble things, as made them to have the like influence upon conduct,
that they would have had, though they had been so many near
and besetting realities which the eye of sense could apprehend.
And thus it is, that one of the patriarchs was moved to obedience
by " things not seen as yet," and that another went forth looking
to a "city which hath foundations," and that a third cherished the
hope of a most unlikely fulfilment, resting it alone on the faithfulness of a divine Promiser, and that all of them declared plainly,
by their movements, how they sought a country. Abraham. by
the offering up of Isaac, earning the triumph of hope over sense;
and Isaac speaking with assurance of the things that were to
come; and Moses having "respect unto the recompense of reward, and enduring as seeing Him who is invisible;" and many
more who braved the most appalling cruelties, in the hope of a
better resurrection. In each of the instances, the apostle's definition was bodied forth, as it were, on the believer's history. The
leading character of their faith, was just the assured expectation
of things hoped for, and the conviction of things not seen. There
was no quarrelling about orthodoxy. There was no settlement
of any controversial question. The faith did not lie in the mere
rectitude of any speculative opinion. It lay in a simple and undoubting anticipation of what an invisible God told of certain invisible things that were to come. And thus the future had the
same practical ascendency over them, that the present has over
other men.  They walked by faith, and not by sight.  They
looked beyond the things that were seen and temporal. to the
things that were unseen and eternal.
Now let us take this view of faith-let us look to it, not as the
mere acquiescence of the understanding in the dogmata of any
sound or recognized creed, but as that which brings the future
and the yet unseen of revelation so home to the mind, as that the
mind is filled with a sense of their reality, and actually proceeds
upon it. Conceive it to be that which places the unseen Creator
by the side of what is visible and created, and so gives the predominancy to His will over all those countless diversities of influence, wherewith sense hath enslaved the vast majority of this
world's generations. Or conceive it to be that which places eternity by the side of time, and so regards the one as a mere path or
stepping-stone to the other; that the man whom it possesses actually moves through life in the spirit of a traveller, feels his home
to be heaven, and all his dearest hopes and interests to be laid up
there; walking, therefore, over the world with a more light and
unencumbered footstep than other men, just because all its adver



412               HALL S TREATISE ON THE
sities to him are but the crosses of a rapid journey, and all its joys
but the shifting scenery of the land through which he is travelling,
and visions of passing loveliness. Keep by this definition of faith,
and bear it round as a test among all the families of your acquaintance. Go with it to the haunts of every-day life, and see if it can
guide you to so much as one individual, whose doings plainly declare that he is pressing onwards to an immortality, for the joys
and exercises of which, he is all the while in busy preparation;
and we fear, that even in this our professing age, faith is scarcely
and rarely to be found; that nearly a universal species are carried through life in one tide of overbearing carnality; that the
present world domineers over almost every creature that breathes
in it; and were the Son of man now to descend in the midst of us,
we know not how few they are who would meet and satisfy his
inquiries after faith upon the earth.
For let there first pass under our review, that mighty host who
live in palpable ungodliness, who, if you cannot say of them that
they are against God, are at least without God in the world; who
spend their days, not perhaps in positive hostility, but certainly in
most torpid apathy and indifference towards the Father of their
spirits; who, feelingly alive to all the concerns of time, are dead
and insensible to all that is beyond it. These indisputably are
children without faith. Eternity is a blank in their imagination.
They are alike unmoved by its hopes and by its fears, and it offers
as little of influence to move them, as does that dark and unpeopled nothingness which lies beyond the outskirts of creation. The
thought of a distant planet that rolls afar in space, carries in it no
practical operation on their business or their bosoms. And the
thought of some distant misery or happiness that may cast up in
eternity, has just as little of practical operation over the minds of
the vast majority of this world.  That which lies between, acts as
an insuperable barrier between the things of faith and their principles, whether of feeling or of action; and so it is that they can
fetch, from the region which lies on the other side of the grave, no
moving force which might practically tell on their hearts or on
their history upon this side of it.
It were certainly premature and presumptuous to make these
affirmations of all; but we leave it to your own observation,
whether it does not apply, and in its full extent, to many of your
friends or familiars in society-to many, and very many, who
daily throng our markets, and sit around our boards of festivity,
and labor from morning to night among the cares of family management, and exchange the calls, and the salutations, and the inquiries of civil companionship; and whether in the pursuits of
science, or merchandise, or amusement, are severally busy, each
with a world of his own, from which God is shut out, and in which
eternity is forgotten. Nothing can be more wide of apostolical
faith than the spiritual frame and habit of these. They mind




FAITH AND INFLUENCE OF THE GOSPEL.           413
earthly things. They have no conversation in heaven. The
world is their all, and it is within the compass of its visible horizon
that their every wish and every interest lies. The terrors of
another world do not agitate them. The hopes of another world
do not enliven them. To both they are profoundly asleep, and
that too at the very time when all within them is restless, and
anxious, and astir about the matters of the short-lived day that is
passing over them. This is the general description of all those
who live without God and without hope. Does it apply to any
of you? Then you may have honor, and decency, and kindness,
and courtesy, and agreeable manners, and even exemplary morals,
but you have no faith.
And it brings out this want of faith into more distinct exhibition, that they who exemplify it are so susceptible of a powerful
impulse from futurity. It is not that we want the faculty of anticipation, for this, in fact, is the main-spring of all the activity
that we see afloat in the world. Man lives on the prospect that
is before him. It is in the pursuit of some distant advantage, or
in the avoidance of some distant evil, that all his powers of thought
and action are expended. Were the machinery of his moral
system capable of no impulse from futurity, then it might alleviate
the charge that we prefer against him, when we state his life to
be an idiot's dream, on the brink of an eternity, that, ere a few
little days, will absorb him, an unsheltered and unprovided creature, into a receptacle of despair. But it only marks the more
striking his blindness to the futurities of an eternal world, that he
is so vigilant, and so busily alive to all the futurities of the present
world-that he proves himself so eminently a creature of foresight in all that regards the pursuits or the interests of time, while
this high characteristic of his nobler and loftier nature, seems to
abandon him in all that regards the great concerns of immortality
-that the very same man who can sit up late, and rise up early,
for the purpose of building an earthly fortune in behalf of his
children, and of his children's children, should never bestow the
carefulness of half an hour on the fate and fortune of his own
imperishable soul-that he who can regale his imagination with
the perspective of thriving descendants, whom the wealth that he
now accumulates is to grace and to ennoble, should never turn
his eye to that grave in which his own body will then be mouldering, or to that land of condemnation in which his own desolate
spirit will then wander in the nakedness of its unatoned guilt, and
of its unchanged and unrenewed earthliness-that he who, in bequeathing to posterity, can stretch his mind forward to the time
when his own name shall be forgotten, and the tomb-stone that
covers him shall have gathered upon it the mould of its distant
antiquity, —that he who can thus devise and make disposition of
his earthly treasure for centuries to come, should be so shut and
fastened in all his sensibilities to a treasure in heaven, and an in



414               HALL'S TREATISE ON THE
heritance that fadeth not away. It is this busy excitement of his
about the futurities of earth which brings out, by contrast, to more
striking and surprising manifestation, the utter lethargy of his
soul about those futurities of an everlasting condition that are so
sure to overtake him. It is this which gives its most conclusive
demonstration of Nature's apathy, and Nature's blindness, and
prepares us for the announcement, that when the Son of man
cometh he may not find faith upon the earth.
But let us pass onward to a class of somewhat different aspect
from that of the palpably regardless; who have been so far
mindful of religion as to put on its decencies, and at least its public devotions; who fill their Sabbath pew on every recurring
occasion, with the members of a well-trained and well-mustered
family, of whom we will grant that their presentation at church,
is just a thing as regular and sure as the tolling of the bell that
summons them; who are ever in their places at the periodic celebration of our great Christian festival; and who, even in addition
to their Sabbath and their sacramental observances, have such a
style of worship and of exercise at home as is in perfect keeping
with their more ostensible proprieties. One would imagine of
such quiet, and orderly, and church-going men, that truly they
are walking with a pilgrim step to another and a happier land;
that it was not the happiness of the present, but the hope of the
future which concerned them; that instead of being taken up
with the fleeting interests of sense, they were indeed taken up
with those distant and unseen things, by the power of which it is
that we estimate their condition as believers; that so many goodly
symptoms, in the way of form, and ordinance, and manifold compliance with the established usages of Christianity, argued them
to be indeed of the faith-and, at all events, that, in respect of
moral and spiritual characteristics, they are of a species altogether distinct from those infidels who disown the Gospel, or
those ungodly who despise it.
And yet it is most true, that all this seeming sanctity may consist with an entire and unbroken habit of worldliness; that all
this clock-work religion may stand as little connected with the
aspirings of a mind that is heavenly, as do the routine evolutions
of any piece of mechanism; that the keeping of all the Sabbath
punctualities, may argue no more a heart set on the things that
are above, than would the putting on of our Sabbath vestments;
and the church, and the sacrament, and the family exercises,
taking their respective places in the round of many a sober citizen, along with his busy shop, and his comfortable meals, and his
parties of agreeable fellowship, may, one and all of them, be only
so many varieties of earthliness. It is really so very possible to
have gotten, whether by inheritance or by accident, into a habit
of unvaried regularity, and to have a kind of conscience about it
too, and to feel a violence done to our religious sensibilities, when



FAITH AND INFLUENCE OF THE GOSPEL.            415
ever it is broken in upon, and to have persevered so long in a
certain style of observation, that a positive discomfort is suffered,
should any inroad be made upon it-it is so possible, that all this
may meet, and be at one, with the downward tendencies of a
heart which is altogether of the earth, and earthly. It does not
follow, that because a man of forms, he is therefore a man of
faith. There may be much without him that bears upon it the
aspect of religiousness, while there is nought within him of " the
substance of things hoped for, and the evidence of things not
seen." He differs, it is true, from the Sabbath breaker, and the
profane absentee from all our ordinances; but the difference may
be altogether complexional. To superinduce the ordinances of
the Gospel on a man's history, is one thing; that they should spring
from a spontaneous affection for the Gospel in a man's heart, is
another. The example of parents may have superinduced them;
or the force of natural habit may have done it; or a taste for the
decencies of family regulation may have done it,-and thus it
often holds practically true, that the punctuality of his Sabbath
worship may no more argue him a disciple or an expectant of
immortality, than does the punctuality of his morning walk. And,
accordingly, we fear it to be true of many such, that with all
their external tribute at the altar of piety, there is nought of the
living spirit of piety in their bosoms-that they stand as firmly
riveted to the dust of our perishable world, as do the most profane and profligate of their fellows-that their hearts are just as
much with the interests of a passing scene, and in every way as
naked of all influence from the things of eternity. So that were
you to follow many a pains-taking and assiduous formalist,
throughout the line of his week-day movements, you would say
of him, too, that the world was his home, and heaven but the
vision or the entertainment of his fancy-that nought, either of
substance or of evidence, stood associated with his thoughts of
futurity on the other side of death-that, wanting this, he wanted
all that could really signalize him from earthly men, as a traveller
toward Zion-that all which could be alleged of his observations
or his prayers, only proved him to wear the livery of the faithful,
without their spirit or their character: for, look to him diligently,
and you will find him to be just as intent on lucre, as keen in
bargains, as busy and breathless in all the pursuits of merchandise,
as agonized by the crosses of misadventure, as enraptured at the
sight of profits and of snug accumulations; in a word, not only
as laborious with his hand, but, more material still, as wholly
given over, with his heart, to the pursuits and interests of a shortlived day, as are the great bulk, and commonplace, of our ordinary men.
But, again, if faith, in the apostle's sense of it, cannot be
ascribed to the openly regardless, and cannot be ascribed to those
seemingly religious, whose only homage to the cause is that of




416               HALL S TREATISE ON THE
their personal attendance upon its decencies and its forms —ought
it not, at least, to be ascribed to another and a higher class-even
to those who are zealous for the faith? It might well be imagined,
of him who thinks to purchase heaven by his works of devoteeship, that, all scrupulous as he is of Sabbath and. sacramental
proprieties, he may still be wanting in the faith. But, can this be
alleged of him who has oft been heard to speak of faith and of
works together-and who, after argumenting the utter worthlessness of the latter, has confined most rigidly to the former all of
power and of efficacy that there is in the business of salvation?
How is it, that the man who ever and anon pronounces on the
vanity of his own righteousness, and professes the righteousness
of Christ, as appropriated and laid hold of by faith, to be the
alone plea on which a sinner can be justified-how is it that he
can, at the same time, be destitute of faith?  Surely, if faith is to
be found at all upon our earth, it must be among those men of a jealous and stickling orthodoxy, who are ever on the alert, and on the
alarm, when human morality lifts its pretensions against the supremacy of faith, and offers presumptuously to usurp, or to derogate, from its honors. Where is faith to be met with, if not among
its own professed and earnest advocates?-and how can the
credit of faith be denied to those, who say, they hold by it alone
as their passport to heaven, and that to it alone they look for being
justified?
To know, and to think, that a man is justified by faith, is one
thing; actually to have that faith, is another. One may know,
that he who possesses a certain title-deed, has the property of
certain lands —but this is wholly different from his being himself
the possessor of it. Your religious knowledge may qualify you
for enumerating all the powers and privileges which belong to
faith-but it does not therefore follow, that this faith actually belongs to you. It is but a distant connection to have with an earthly
estate, that you know what sort of rights they are, by the holding
of which it becomes the property of the owner. This you may
know most thoroughly, and yet have no personal interest in the
rights or in the property whatever. And distant, indeed, is your
connection with heaven, if Vou but know, how it is by faith that
man acquires a part and an inheritance therein. The question
recurs, Have you that faith? It is not of your knowledge, or
your opinion, that we at present inquire. You may know that faith
justifies a man, and yet have no faith whatever of your own. It
may be a favorite dogma, this article of justification; and you,
having the dogma, yet wanting the faith, may have no justification. You may embrace, and with fond affection too, the sound
doctines upon this subject, and yet not, by any faith of your own,
have actually embraced the righteousness of Christ: and so this
doctrine of theology may be of as little avail towards the peace




FAITH AND INFLUENCE OF THE GOSPEL.          417
and joy of your eternity, as any doctrine of politics, or of philosophy, or of agriculture.
Neither is it enough, that you assert with vehemence, and abide
with most opinionative tenacity by, the right doctrines of justiftcation. Who has not witnessed the very same vehemence, and
the very same tenacity, on other fields of speculation? All that
ardor, and earnestness, and intolerance of what is pronounced to
be damnable error, which are so often exhibited in theological
controversy, may often be resolved into the pride of argument, the
impatience of defeat, the jealousy of other powers and other understandings. These are the principles which uphold the zeal and
strenuousness of so many combatants on the arena of a merely
secular debate, and make each so resolute in the affirmation
and defence of his own dogma. And on no other principles may
you have taken your side on the agitated question of our acceptance with God; and may have urged it with most intense affection and energy, that this acceptance hangs upon faith, and upon
it alone. This you may do, and yet be personally without the
faith vourself-a fierce and eager partisan, and on the right side
too, of this evangelical warfare-though, within the receptacles
of your moral system, there be nought of " the substance of things
hoped for," and nought of " the evidence of things not seen."
We think that, on the first blush and aspect of it, the thing is
quite palpable to the eye of general observation. It is surely an
oft-exemplified phenomenon, that a man should be quite sturdy in
his adherence to the orthodox creed, and yet be all the while a
man of earthly pursuits and earthly affections. He may lay claim
to the dogmata thereof, as all his own,-and yet the living realities of which they treat, may never have impressed one touch of
their practical and persuasive ascendency over him. His mouth
may be filled with the language, and his understanding be busied
with the arguments, of orthodoxy, and yet the spiritual things, of
which words are but the representatives and the symbols, may
never once have come into living play, either with the purposes
of his life, or with the affections of his still unregenerated bosom.
He may stand up for all the articles, and yet be standing up for
mere phraseology, and nothing more. It may be a mere germ
of curiosity, or imagination, with the terms of theology; while
the truths of it have never once stood before the eye of his conscience, clothed in all the urgent and impressive characters of
their high bearing upon his everlasting welfare. They may have
never, indeed, carried him forward to any one of those futurities, to
which he will be so speedily conducted, by the flight of those successive years that roll over him. The coming death, and the
coming judgment, and the coming eternity, may all be unheeded,
and at the very moment, too, when he is agitating the terms on
which death is plucked of its sting, and judgment is disarmed
by mercy, and an avenue to the bliss of eternity is again opened
53




418                HALL'S TREATISE ON THE
for those sinners who had cast it away from them. The urgencies of the present world may enslave him, even while the concerns of the future world are to him the topics, both of busy
thought and busy conversation. The matters of God's kingdom
may be quite familiar to him in word, which never are felt by
him in their power. They have had interest enough to attract
his gaze, but not energy enough to move his practice. They play,
in speculation, around his fancy or his head, but they have never
yet stimulated him to action; and while his talk is of the mysteries of heaven, his path in life is that of a devoted worldling.
There may be something in the apostolical definition of faith
that is fitted to expose, and perhaps to remedy this delusion. It
is such a faith as, at least, carries hope in its train. It has for its
object such things as are hoped for-that is, hoped for to the individual himself. One may believe of a thousand things in which
he personally has no share and no interest —but hope implies a
certain degree of appropriation. It may be easy to give a general
consent to the truth-that, by Christ the Saviour, the gate of
heaven has been opened for sinners-but, by the faith of our text,
the sinner sees the gate of heaven to be open for himself; and so
he rejoices in the bright anticipation, and betakes himself to all
the required and preparatory movements for his entrance thereinto. One can imagine, that the report of a Saviour for the sinners of another country, would carry in it none of the personal
excitement of hope, and none of the personal exertion correspondent thereunto, to the sinners of our own land. And yet it is
conceivable, that this message of a distant salvation for others,
and in which we ourselves had no individual concern, might busily
engage our speculations, and be the topic amongst us of a very
intent controversy; and might arrange us into parties, according
to the interpretation that we gave of the terms, on which God
took into acceptance the strayed children of this remote branch
of his family. And thus, one class of our home theologians might
think truly, and have the sound opinion, on this matter; and so
have their minds imbued with the accurate belief. Yet, from the
nature of the thing, it is a belief which carries no hope along with
it-and just, we apprehend, such a belief as is to be met with
among many of the actual zealots of orthodoxy in our present
day. They treat the matter, it is to be feared, as a thing that
lies remote from themselves-as a mere theme for the understanding; which they look to as they would to any other abstract contemplation, but which they do not look to as that which bears,
specifically and distinctly, upon their own interest. Whatever
faith they have, is a faith without hope-but this is not the faith
of our text. This is not the assured expectation of things hoped
for. This is not the case of a man, who hath closed with the
overtures of the Gospel for himself; and is looking onward to
heaven, not merely as a place that has been opened, by a Re



FAITH AND INFLUENCE OF THE GOSPEL.           419
deemer's hand, for a certain number of travellers, but a place that
has been opened for him, as one of these travellers. This would
change the character of his faith.  This would turn him from a
controversialist into a pilgrim. In the former view of it, there
was nought addressed but his intellect. The latter view of it,
offers that which is addressed to his affections and his hopeswhich opens for himself a vista into heaven; and, revealing to
him the holiness, both of the habitation, and of the highway that
leads to it, instantly betakes him unto the way of holiness.
There are two questions which, could we answer in a way that
might be readily apprehended, would go far to satisfy you, as to
the process by which a real principle of faith in the mind, is followed by the life of faith in the history —so as to land every honest believer of the present day, in those very activities which signalized the patriarchs of the old dispensation, and separated them,
by a holy and a heavenward walk, from the general habit of an
unbelieving world.
The first of these questions is-By what stepping-stone is a believer conducted from his faith to his hope?  What is there, in
the Christian message, that warrants him to single out heaven as
the distinct object of his own journeyings through the world, and
his own preparations for it, as a place whither he might bend his
footsteps, and to which he might look forward, as the home and
the resting-place of his own special expectations? Had it been
a message of salvation only to the people of another land, he
might have put faith in it without drawing hope from it.  And
how is the message actually constructed, so as that the faith, which
he places therein, should light up the animating sentiment of hope
in his bosom?
Were the Gospel but a message of salvation to some foreign
land, there would be no link by which faith might pass into hope.
And neither would this transition follow, were it only a message
to some of our own neighborhood, exclusive of ourselves. But
this is not the bearing of the message.  It carries a tender of
salvation to all. It points the eye of each, and of every man, to
an open heaven, and invites him to enter thereinto. By such terms
as, all, and any, and every, and whosoever, it brings its offers of
reconciliation most specifically to bear on each unit of the human
population. Insomuch that, if the word of salvation hath come
to him, the offer of salvation hath been made to him. Just as
much as if not another individual but himself had stood in need
of Christ's propitiation, is the whole benefit of that propitiation
pressed upon his acceptance. Just as much as if he had been the
solitary and the sinful occupier of the only world where rebellion
against heaven was known, and as if the Bible had been constructed for the one purpose of reclaiming him to the friendship
of his offended God, has that Bible come to his door, armed with
the full force of its importunities and its calls. It is as legitimately




420                1iALL S TREATISE ON THE
his right to take to himself the call of reconciliation that is sounded there, as if put into his hand by an angel from the sanctuary,
with a special bidding, from heaven's Lord, that he should read,
and should rejoice in it. It is true, that this is not the way in
which the message is actually brought home; and that, instead of
this, the everlasting Gospel is preached unto them that dwell on
the earth, and to every nation, and kindred, and tongue, and
people. But, while thus it goeth forth diffusively over all, it sendeth out a voice which speaketh distinctly unto each; and, in virtue of the terms that we have now specified, does it happily combine, a wide expansion of itself over the face of the world, with
a pointed application of itself to every heart, and to every habitation. That faith may become hope, nothing more is necessary,
than to believe in the message, according to the sense of the
message. It is to believe with understanding. It is to put the
right interpretation on these simple words, all, and any, and every.
It is to conceive of myself, that surely I am within the scope of
a vocabulary, which is comprehensive of the whole species, and
not exclusive of a single member belonging to it. I cannot believe in the announcement, that Christ "tasted death for every
man," without rejoicing in this, that He hath tasted death for me.
I cannot have faith in the invitation, "Let whosoever will, come
and drink of the water of life freely," without feeling of myself,
that I have been made the object of a marked and separate entreaty. It is thus that there is a hope of faith, as well as a hope of
experience. There is a hope that hangs direct on the faithfulness
of God. The man who argues on the side of orthodoxy, and
feels not his personal interest therein, is blind to the important
significancy of those very terms in which the doctrines of the
Bible have been conveyed to him. He either knows them not, or
attends to them not. All that we want for the lighting up of hope
is faith, with understanding; and only grant it to be an intelligent
faith, and then will it be the assured expectation of things hoped
for.
But there is another question which must be answered, ere we
can complete the analogy between the state of an expectant under
the old, and of an expectant under the new dispensation. We can
perceive how a hope-a hope of his own individual preferment to
blessedness and glory, may arise in the bosom of each, from the
terms in which both the Jewish and the Christian message was
conveyed to all who stood within reach of the hearing of them.
But it might be imagined of this hope, that it should simply find
an entrance into the heart, and there minister of its own sweet
and placid sensations to the inner man. What is there in it that
should put into motion the intercourse, or connect the faith of a
believer with that new and busy career of activity on which he
forthwith embarks himself? We can understand how a Christian,
like Abraham of old, might see his day of triumph afar off and be




FAITH AND INFLUENCE OF THE GOSPEL.            421
glad. But what is there in the mere belief of the things which
have been told unto him, and in his assured expectation of those
things that should liken his history to that of Abraham, who, at
the bidding of a voice from heaven, submitted himself to the toils
and the trials of a new obedience? We can see how the faith of
the Gospel might germinate that specific anticipation of heaven,
which might give to the mind of a Christian all the spiritual elevation of Abraham? But by what distinct impulse is it that this
faith originates a personal movement on the part of its disciple, so
as that he shall walk in the footsteps of his faither Abraham?  We
now understand the pathway between faith and hope.  We now
want to understand the pathway between faith and service —and
how it is that the hope which gladdens alike the patriarch of the
old, and the believer of the new economy, should further stimulate
them alike to the same exertions and the same sacrifices.
Now, it was by looking to the terms of the message, according
to the meaning of these terms, that we attempted to trace the connection between faith and hope; so it is in this, and in no other
way, that we would trace the connection between faith and obedience. The accompaniment of such a term as that of " whoever,"
with the invitation of the Gospel, gives me to understand of that
invitation as directed specifically to myself, and my heart responds
to it accordingly. And the accompaniment of such a sentence
with the same invitation, as that " he who turneth to Christ must
depart from his iniquities," gives me to understand, that while I
look to heaven with the delightful sensation of hope in my bosom,
I must also look to it with the diligence of an intent and busy traveller, who knows that in moving thitherward, he must move himself awav from the habit and character and earthly desires of a
world lying in wickedness.  This is the way, and we know of no
other, by which faith and obedience are so linked together, as that
when the one enters the heart, the other forthwith comes out on
the history. It is done by the power of a whole faith in a whole
testimony. It is by keeping the ear of the mind open to the whole
utterance of that voice which hath spoken to us from heaven. It
is by treating God's communications as Abraham of old did.
When he heard God say, 1" This is the land which I give unto
thee," he rejoiced in hope; and when he heard him say, "Walk
thou before me, and be thou perfect," he went forth in obedience.
And so with the Christian, who can both look with glad anticipation to eternal life as the gift of God through Jesus Christ our
Lord, and who can labor with assiduity for the same eternal life,
as knowing that the unholy and tile unheavenly shall never enter
thereinto. It is the word which causes him to hope-and it is also
the word which causes him to obey. It at one time is the word
of promise, and at another the word of authority-and he, an honest believer, listens to both, and proceeds upon both. With the
docility of a little child, he accommodates his responses to the les



422                HALL'S TREATISE ON THE
son that is set before him —and, at one and the same time, is he the
most joyful in hope and the most devoted in service.
To illustrate and enforce this latter and most important topic,
forms the principal subject of the following excellent Treatise of
the Rev. ARCHIBALD HALL, "On the Faith and Influence of the
Gospel."  His great design is to elucidate the nature of true faith,
and to show its practical influence on the heart and character of
the believer.  The attentive reader will not fail to perceive, that
a real and appropriating faith of the truths of the Gospel is a very
different thing from the mere mental perception of these truths, or
the cold and intellectual abstractions about which the mind may
be busied, but which minister neither peace nor hope to the mind,
nor exert any sanctifying or subduing power over the heart and
affections.
There are no two terms in the whole New Testament, which
stand more frequently and familiarly associated with each other,
than faith and obedience. Wherever the privileges and blessings
of the Gospel are truly appropriated by faith, the precepts of the
Gospel maintain their authority over the conduct of the believer.
Whenever the peace of the Gospel takes up its residence in the
heart, the practice of the Gospel comes out in living exemplification on the personal character and accomplishments of the believer.
It is thus that faith demonstrates its existence in the heart, by its
operation on the character. It forms, indeed, the principal excellence of the following Treatise, that it exhibits the intimate connection which subsists between faith and obedience. It shows,
that though faith be a simple principle, yet the object of faith is
the whole testimony of God. That faith has to do not merely
with one set of truths, but that it has to do with all the truths
which are contained in the whole of God's revelation.  That while
the truth, that " Christ died for our sins," exerts its appropriate influence on the mind of the believer, and he is thus made to feel
the charm of the peace-speaking blood of Christ, the truth, that' without holiness no man can see the Lord," also exerts its appropriate influence on his mind; and he is thus urged on to " perfect holiness in the fear of the Lord."  When the believer is made
to know, that "there is no condemnation to them  who are in
Christ Jesus," he is also made to know, that " they walk not after
the flesh, but after the Spirit." It is thus that his mind comes under the various influences, which the various truths of God's testimony are fitted to exercise over it; and while he is a trusting
and rejoicing disciple, he is, at the same time, a watchful, praying,
and obedient disciple.
But faith, by opening up a new region of manifestation to the
mind of a believer, brings his heart into contact with those motives and influences which give rise to the new obedience of the
Gospel.  When contemplating Jesus Christ and him crucified, he
builds on this all his hopes of acceptance before God, he finds not




FAITH AND INFLUENCE OF TIHE GOSPEL.         423
only peace, but a purifying influence descend on his heart. It removes the spirit of bondage and of fear, which weighed down the
soul to the inactivity of despair, and introduces the spirit of love
and adoption, which makes him run with alacrity in the way of
all God's commandments.  So long as the question of his guilt remained unsettled, instead of loving, he could only dread, the Being
whom he had offended; but when a sense of forgiveness enters
his heart, he enters, with hopeful and assured footsteps, on a course
of cheerful obedience. When love to God, which the consciousness of guilt kept away, is introduced into his soul by faith in the
atoning blood of Christ, the inspiration of a new and invigorating
principle takes possession of the believer, and he becomes animated with the life and the love of real godliness. Faith in the
dioctrine of the atonement is as much the turning point of a new
character, as of a new hope. It is here Gospel obedience takes
its commencement, because it is here that filial love and confidence in God take their rise. Christ came not only to redeem us
from all iniquity, but to " purify us unto himself a peculiar people,
zealous of good works." The reception of Christ is always accompanied with the gift of the renewing Spirit, whose peculiar
office it is to promote our growth in grace, and to perfect us in
holiness; and the genuine believer will always experience the
truth and the reality of the apostle's declaration-" If any man be
in Christ, he is a new creature."




DISTINCTION,
BOTH IN PRINCIPLE AND EFFECT,
BETWEEN
A LEGAL CHARITY FOR THE RELIEF OF INDIGENCE,
AND
A LEGAL CHARITY FOR THE RELIEF OF DISEASE.
[Read before the Royal Institute of France.]
1. IT had been good for the well-being of states, if legislation
had at all times kept within its own proper boundaries-whereas,
by stepping beyond these, it has often marred the interest which it
meant to provide for, and inflicted a sore distemper on human society. This has nowhere been more strikingly exemplified, and
in a way more instructive to the governments of other countries,
than by the Poor-law of England.
2. We often hear of the wisdom of nature, as evinced in the
laws and adaptations of the material world; but the same wisdom
may be as visibly discerned in the frame and principles of our
mental constitution-the spontaneous working of which often leads
to a far better result, than all the skill and vigilance of statesmen
can possibly effectuate. A commerce which results from the free
enterprise of individuals, each devising and laboring for his own
special advantage, is greatly more flourishing and more conducive
to the real prosperity of a kingdom, than a commerce which is
nourished by the bounties, and at the same time guided by the
regulations of a Statute-book. The whole of political economy
bears evidence to the perfection of what may be termed the natural system of human industry and human exchanges-in opposition to the artificial system, that, whether in the form of encouragements or restraints, acts with all the mischievous influence of a
disturbing force on the operations of a previous and better mechanism.
3. One of the most interesting verifications of this remark may
be seen in the history of pauperismn. It is quite palpable that nature has at least made some provision in the very make and con



MEMOIR PRESENTED TO THE ROYAL INSTITUTE OF FRANCE. 425
stitution of humanity, for the alleviation, often prevention, of the
ills of extreme want. It, in the first place, has endowed man
with a strong and urgent principle of self-preservation, and has
superadded the goading agonies of hunger to the fear of perishing-so as to afford the most powerful stimulus that can well be
imagined, for the utmost possible exertion to secure an adequate
and regular supply of food. In the second place, it has implanted
a strong relative affection, as that of parents to children, of children back again to parents, even of more distant kindred for each
other-so as to enlist the energies of all the effective members in
a household, for the maintenance, not of themselves only, but of
the most weak and helpless under their own roof; and, over and
above this, so as often to prompt them to the large assistance of
those, who, though beyond the limits of the home in which they
live, are yet of' the same blood and family. But there is a third
principle, and from which it is obvious that nature meant the kindness of man for man to extend over a wider field of operation
than within the circle of the same relationship-the principle of
compassion, that powerful impellent to deeds of generosity; and
in virtue of which, it is nearly as intolerable for one man to see
another in the agonies of hunger, as to be the victim of these
agonies himself. This opens up two resources for the relief of
poverty-First the kindness of poor to poor, or rather of immediate neighbors for each other, living in the same vicinity and occupying nearly the same level on the ground-floor of societySecondly the kindness of rich to poor, which we place last in the
enumeration; because truly we regard it as the least powerful
and the least prolific of the whole —believing as we do, that, in
the principle of self-preservation whereby each man is led to care
for himself, and the principle of relative affection whereby each
man is led to care for those of his own kindred, and the principle
of compassion whereby each man is led to care for those of his
own acquaintance or neighborhood who have fallen into distress,
we behold the most important of nature's ordinations-first for
the prevention, and then for the relief, of extreme want and
wretchedness in the world.
4. But, to make our reasoning still more distinct and conclusive,
we shall attempt to demonstrate of each of these principles, separately and in order, that in respect of beneficial operation, each is
so injured and enfeebled by the hurtful influence of a public charity
for the relief of indigence-as altogether to have greatly deteriorated the condition of the poor and working classes, in every
neighborhood where such a provision has been established.
5. And first then it is obvious, that a law by the state, of public
and proclaimed charity for the relief of indigence, must slacken
the operation of what has been termed the strongest law of nature-even the law of self-preservation. It tends to supersede
the care and industry, which, but for its own mischievous and se54




426              MEMOIR PRESENTED TO THE
ducing influence, a man might have otherwise put forth-in laboring to realize a sufficiency for himself and for his children. It is
a law of exemption from toil, from prudence, from foresight and
economy, fiom every restraint on the gratifications of present and
powerful appetite; and from all those busy expedients wherewith
a man, who is left to depend on himself, devises for the security
or the advancement of his own condition in the world. A man
feels discharged from all strenuousness or self-denial, when the
care of his own subsistence is thus taken out of his hands; and
the state undertakes to do for him that which, but for its interference, he would infallibly and in obedience to the calls of hunger and necessity have otherwise done for himself. A universal
guarantee against starvation, operates towards a universal relaxation of industry and providential habits among the families of a
land. A man will not accumulate of his savings against the evil
day, if that day have already been provided for by the institutions
of his country. He is thus tempted to idleness, nay tempted either
to profligacy or premature marriage, by the expenses of which he
is no longer deterred-when these expenses are shifted from himself to a public and compulsory fund, raised for all sorts of destitution, in whatever way that destitution may have been formed.
It is thus that many a single parish in England holds forth in miniature the example of an over-peopled world. It labors and is in
distress from the redundancy of its own numbers; and whether
this excess proceeds from the number of illegitimate births, or from
the regular family births of too early and too frequent marriages
— certain it is, that there are thousands of parochial communities
in England, where the overplus of laborers has effected an unnatural reduction of price in the labor market-so as to have inflicted
a sore and general degradation on the circumstances of the working classes. It is thus that the Poor-law of England has created
far more of want and wretchedness than it can by any possibility
relieve; or, in other words, a law in the constitution of the country, by superseding a wiser and better law in the constitution of
human nature, has depressed the condition of the lower orders in
society, and aggravated tenfold the poverty which it had vainly
proposed to do away.
6. But secondly, there is another law, inserted by the hand of
Nature in the mechanism of our constitution; and which, when
teft undisturbed to its own proper direction and force, goes far to
alleviate the ills of poverty, we mean the law of relative or family
affection-as of parents to children, of children back again to
parents, of brothers and sisters to each other; and even of more
distant members in the same circle of relationship. And, besides
this, there is a certain sentiment of pride which comes in aid of
the more intense kindness that operates within the limits of a common household, or, more extended still, of a common kindred,
though parted into separate domestic establishments, and in virtue




ROYAL INSTITUTE OF FRANCE.              427
of which many a sacrifice is made to support and to save each
other from the degradations of charity, so long as charity is not
legalized. But both affection and honor give way, before the
temptations of a public and authorized provision for the relief of
indigence; and accordingly in England, under its late and still
under its present parochial economy, there do occur the most
scandalous desertions of very near relatives, and which, by the
force of habit and under the countenance of general example, have
ceased to be scandalous there. Aged parents, instead of being
taken into the houses of their children now advanced to manhood
and in a state of sufficiency for supporting those to whom they
owe their birth, are abandoned for life to the cheerless imprisonment of a Poors-house; and on the other hand, parents, in the full
vigor of manhood and the natural protectors of their own families,
have been tempted in hundreds perhaps in thousands every year to
abscond from their dwellings, and leave all the inmates to the
charity of the parish bound by law to provide for them.  We
have counted in one newspaper no less than forty advertisements
of runaway husbands from the town of Manchester, who had left
their families on the parish fund, and for the discovery and apprehension of whom a reward was offered by the managers. This
unnatural desertion of their own kinsfolk is the epidemic vice of
England-only, however, because a legal guarantee against the
starvation of those who are thus deserted is its epidemic temptation. It is in striking contrast with the general habit of Scotland,
in the great majority of whose parishes such a guarantee is practically unknown; and where, almost universally, such an abandonment, either of parents by their own children or of children
by their own parents, would, as a thing of exceeding rare occurrence, be deemed a monstrous exception to the most binding
duties, the most sacred proprieties of Christian and humanized life.
We have already considered the effect of a law of pauperism, in
releasing man from the duties which he owes to himself. Its
effect in releasing him from the duties which he owes to those of
his own relationship, is no less obvious. In both instances, it
directly tends to multiply the number of paupers, and, great as
this economic evil is, it is surpassed by the moral evil of a system,
under which the sustenance of man is made independent of his
own virtue and prudence; and the sustenance even of his nearest
relatives is alike independent of those parental and filial affections,
which are nature's strongest securities for the maintenance and
uprearing of successive families in the world. Surely better than
to have thus counteracted such urgent and universal principles as
these, would it have been that the hand of power had not interfered with them; but leaving them to their own native and
spontaneous operation, that legislation had kept within her own
rightful province, and let the business of charity alone.
7. But thirdly, besides the strong feeling of relative affecti6n




428              MEMOIR PRESENTED TO THE
between men and men of the same kindred, Nature hath established another guarantee against the ills of extreme want; and
another feeling strong too and of wider operation than the former,
we mean the feeling of compassion-of which all might be the
objects; but which acts with peculiar force and great practical
effect, between men and men of the same neighborhood. And so
it is not to be told how much is given and received throughout the
families, even of the poorest localities, by the internal operation of
charity amongst themselves. It is true that the contributions of each
might be individually small, but this is made up for by their number and constancy. It is quite palpable, even on the most cursory
observation, how mutually helpful, by personal service and attendance, they are to each other, in seasons of sickness; but it requires much intercourse, and a very intimate acquaintance with
the habitudes of the poor who are congregated together in the
same community, to be made sure of their great mutual generosity, in imparting, from their own scanty share of the necessaries
of life, to the naked and the hungry, and the members, whether
young or old, of those bereaved households whom the hand of
death has deprived of their parents or natural protectors. Such,
nevertheless, is the actual finding of all who have given themselves
to the business of observation on this most interesting walk. The
Reverend Mr. Carlyle of Dublin informs me, that he can depone,
from his minute and statistical acquaintance with one of the poorest sections in the city of Dublin —that the amount given and
received by the operation of a charity purely internal, or which
reciprocates between the families of the district, exceeds all computation. This fully accords with my own experience, when minister in Glasgow, where I had a parish of ten thousand people,
the poorest of the poor; and where, from instances too numerous
to be mentioned, I learned the delightful lesson —that the spontaneous charity of neighbors for each other was a more certain as
well as more abundant source of relief, in cases of extreme indigence, than that legal charity, by which, when in full operation,
the other is well nigh superseded. Never did a case occur without the most timely forthgoings of aid and sympathy from the immediate neighbors-insomuch that I have often expressed it as my
confidence, that, if surrounded by human eyes and human ears, I
had no fear of human feelings being also awakened, so as to make
it a moral impossibility that any man should starve in the sight of
his fellows. Perhaps the most vivid illustration of this cheering
truth in the history of our nature is to be gathered from Buxton's
Tour through the Prisons of Great Britain. The legal allowance
of bread to the prisoners varies at different places. In Bristol it
was below the par of human subsistence. The allowance was
too small for the criminals; and for the debtors there was no
allowance at all. The prisoners of the latter class, therefore, are
left, either to the assistance of their friends or to the charity of the




ROYAL INSTITUTE OF FRANCE.              429
public. But it occasionally happened, that both these resources
failed them-when they would have inevitably perished of hunger but for the generosity of the criminals, who, rather than brook
the spectacle of a fellow-creature suffering under one of the sorest
agonies of nature, shared their own scanty pittance along with
them. This I hold to be one of the finest examples which can be
quoted of the strength of human compassion-proving that it survives the depraving process which conducts a criminal to his cell.
We have only to carry back this experience from prisons to
parishes, in order to be convinced of the safety, wherewith the
evils of' extreme want might generally be left to the workings of
individual sympathy in every neighborhood where they occur.
If a man in the agonies of hunger, and giving authentic tokens of
this sore distress, be within sight and hearing of his fellows-then,
by an urgent and irrepressible law of nature, do they feel the
promptings of a desire to relieve him which they are unable to
resist. But not if a law of the state have ordained its own prescribed and authoritative method of relieving. Such a law has
practically the effect of absolving every man from the obligation
of caring for his neighbors; and by laying its arrest on a thousand rills of beneficence. which would else have flowed in refreshing and kindly circulation throughout the mass of society, it has
shut far more copious and effective sources of relief for human
wretchedness than itself can open.
8. The arrest thus laid on the popular habit of mutual service
and sympathy between poor and poor, will prove a far greater
loss to the destitute than can be possibly made up to them by all
the dispensations of legal charity. The spontaneous offerings of
private benevolence will be sadly abridged-because men naturally
feel themselves released from the care of all the want and suffering
around them, when made to understand that the State has taken
that care upon themselves. Those of the same rank with the dependent and the needy keep back from the work of relief, because
of an imagined sufficiency in the law, which meanwhile is never
realized. Those of a higher rank, the wealthy on whom the burden of the compulsory provision is laid, have an additional reason
for their insensibility to the calls of distress. It is not merely that
their forced contributions to the Poor-rate supersede, in their own
minds, the obligation of any further, or free-will offering. But the
truth is, that the whole effect of such an artificial system of charity
is to banish from its ministrations all the better and kindlier feelings of our nature. What is given by the ordination of law is
given without good-will; and what is received by the same ordination is received without gratitude. That, which ought at all
times to have been a thing of love, is transformed into a thing of
fierce and fiery litigation. The clear and right proceeding in the
management of our nature-were to leave to justice the things
of justice, and to humanity the things of humanity. But the first




430              MEMOIR PRESENTED TO THE
has been made to usurp the province of the second; and in the
confusion of these two moral elements, which should have ever
been kept distinct from each other, the one party have been led to
demand what they ought to have supplicated; and the other party,
in the attitude of defensive jealousy, stoutly to withhold what in
the exercise of an enforced compassion they would fieely and
willingly have given. This will account for the state of mutual
exasperation which obtained, and which recent changes have for
a time at least only inflamed the more, between the paupers and
the proprietors of England; and the loss to a great extent of their
spontaneous liberality must be added to the other and still larger
privations, which, under the guise of kindness, the law of a compulsory provision for the poor has entailed on the victims of its
folly.
9. Shortly then to recapitulate the four causes of deterioration
in the comforts of the poor, which the allowances of no public
charity can by any possibility countervail-we refer once moreFirst, to the augmenting improvidence and idleness which are
generated by the system-Secondly, to the reduction which it
effects on that mutual kindness, which, in a natural state of things,
obtains between those of the same kindred-Thirdly, to a similar
reduction made by it on those interchanges of sympathy and aid,
which take place among the poor themselves of the same neighborhood, when the laws of their country do not contravene the
laws and tendencies of their own moral nature —and Lastly, the
alienation which it begets of the rich from the poor, whom it arrays into two hostile parties against each other —the one fiercely
clamoring for those imagined rights, of which they never would
have dreamed, had not this perverse and mischievous law of
pauperism inspired the notion of them; and the other party as
fiercely resisting the encroachments on their property of that popular demand, which they fear will be ever increasing and never
satisfied. We are not to wonder, that. with such powerful counteractions, the number of poor is found greatly to outstrip the provision which is made for them; and that a law which carries in
it an aspect of munificence to the lower orders of society, has in
truth depressed their condition, and aggravated the evils which it
meant to remedy or alleviate.
10. It would detain us too long from the main subject of this
essay, did we say all that is important to be noticed or known,
respecting the utter powerlessness of law-if it proceed in the way
of a public and positive administration of relief, even to abridge,
and far less to do away with the indigence of the land. But we
cannot omit to assign a great master reason, why the consequence
of such a law is the very opposite of this-so that, instead of
abridging, it is sure not only to multiply the wants of the poor;
but to effect a great and general deterioration in the circumstances
of the working classes at large. We advert to the undoubted




ROYAL INSTITUTE OF FRANCE.             431
stimulus, which a Poor-law gives to population-both adding to
the frequency and the precipitation of marriages; and thereby
causing, not only a great number of families, but of larger families
than before. It is thus that the market for labor comes to be overstocked, and the sure effect of this over proportion of laborers is
the under price of labor. The greater the number of workmen
the smaller must be the wages; and it gives a fearful aggravation
to this mischief, that a very small addition to the number of laborers, creates a very great reduction in the wages which are paid
to them. Let there be but the excess of one twentieth in the
quantity of labor; and we mistake the consequence, if we think
that there will be only the fall of one twentieth in the remuneration which is made to it. Even so few as a twentieth part of the
whole number, unemployed, and soliciting admission in the places
already occupied and full by those who have gone before them,
would create so intense a competition throughout the general body
of workmen as might brine down wages one-fourth, one-third, or
even one-half, of what they might be, were the number of human
beings in no more than equal proportion to the demand for their
industry. It is thus that the whole body of the common people
suffer a general and severe depression even from a slight redundancy in their numbers; and legislation is sure to find itself embarked in a vain enterprise, when it attempts to overtake this
constantly increasing destitution, by a larger dispensation of
charity than before. In an economy of legalized pauperism, the
necessities and the demands ever multiply beyond the suppliesas in England, where the gigantic expenditure of eight millions
was lavished on the relief of that poverty which its own system
may be said to have created; and where, in many of its parishes,
the sum necessary for the maintenance of the poor had nearly
overtaken the rent of the land. It was high time to review an
administration so replete with evils; and which every year was
rendering more burdensome and oppressive than before. It remains to be seen whether the great abridgments which have been
effected, in consequence of the last reforms on the pauperism of
England, are but temporary; and the eftect of that more rigorous
administration, which, however natural at the outset of a new process, may afterwards relax-when the native principle of the
whole system may again develop its powers of mischievous expansion, and prove of the legal and compulsory provision for indigence, that no ingenuity of man can repress its overgrowth. It
may require the experience of some years to determine this question.
II. The most important change which has taken place in their
management of the poor, is the substitution of what is termed indoor relief, for those allowances which the paupers wont to receive at their own houses; and which are now in a great measure superseded, by the admission of those who apply for legal




432              MEMOIR PRESENTED TO THE
charity to a general alms-house erected for the district-often
comprising a good many parishes. In this way the relief is made
greatly more unpalatable to the applicants. It is held out to them
in the most repulsive form. If they consent to accept of it, it is
at the expense of liberty and home, and all those old associations
of place and neighborhood, which they are forced to renounce for
the discipline and confinement of the great public asylum which
has been provided for them. It is thus that the treatment of poverty is assimilated to the treatment of crime. The inmates of the
institution receive a maintenance-but a perpetual imprisonment,
though somewhat mitigated by certain relaxations, is the penalty
which they have to pay for it.
12. The experiment is yet far from being completed, but the
progress of it is highly instructive as far as it has gone. In some
parishes, every pauper who under the former regime was in the
habit of receiving out-door relief; but who in exchange for this,
was required under the present system to become the inmate of
an asylum-has refused the alternative and withdrawn his name
from the lists and the allowances of pauperism altogether. It is thus
that many thousands of these parochial pensioners all over England, have been driven by the severities or terrors of the new
system from the domain of pauperism; and, after betaking themselves to their own resources, do in fact find a sufficiency in these
for an independence and a comfort which they never formerly
enjoyed. This history, repeated and exemplified in thousands of'
the parishes in England, is rich in principle, and fraught with the
discovery of an important truth. It proves that there was no
call, no natural necessity, for that part at least of the enormous
expenditure of the former system from which they are now relieved-and that not by any skilfulness in the management of
their new system; but by the mere repulsion of its discouragements, and of the dread which is inspired by it. Instead then of
boasting of the wisdom of their new economy, they have far
greater reason to acknowledge the egregious folly of their old
one; and when in so many of their parishes, they witness the
palpable fact, that the great majority of their former paupers,
after being deprived of their old allowances, can contrive to live
and in all appearance as comfortably as before-this might lead
them to apprehend, that, to a great extent at least, the artificial
charity of law is uncalled for, and even prepare them for the
conclusion that it perhaps were better if the law could be dispensed with altogether.
13. But perhaps it is too much to expect, that a country shall
so speedily retrace its way, and so as to make even in one generation, a total recovery of itself from the error of centuries. But
other countries, at least, may learn a lesson from the experience
of England. They should know how to make a right interpretation of the abridgment which is now being made on the ex



ROYAL INSTITUTE OF FRANCE.              433
penses of English pauperism. It demonstates that there is no
necessity, either in nature or in the state of human society, for
such a system at all; and it is therefore toabe hoped, that other
nations will avoid that great blunder in the domestic policy of England, which has been fraught with so many evils to all the classes
of society, and to none more than to the poor themselves. Foreigners are far more likely to profit from the history of this great
and memorable delusion than the country itself which has been
the victim of it, and which at this moment makes striking display
of the tenacity of inveterate and long-established error, in extending the same hurtful policy to Ireland-thereby to aggravate
the distempers of that unhappy land.
14. And it is further instructive to observe the expedient by
which it is attempted to correct this wrong legislation-not by
abolishing the legislation, but by counteracting it with other legisgislation, wrong too, though in an opposite direction to the former.
Thus, a compulsory provision for the poor wears an expression
of kindness to the humbler classes of society. But when pauperism, fostered into being by this unwise ordination, made alarming
progress, and threatened to annihilate the property of the higher
classes —then to arrest and neutralize this mischief, they have
devised another ordination, by which to make the pauperism as
repulsive as possible to the feelings of those who claim a part in
its ministrations. They still keep up the notion of their right to
a maintenance in the hearts of the destitute; but, by the new
law, it is a maintenance on terms the most hateful and humiliating,
and that for the purpose of scaring away as many as possible, of
those applicants, who, under the old system, did beset the parish
vestries of England —the wretched victims of their own indolence and dissipation. We cannot imagine a state of the law,
more fitted to engender the utmost acerbity of feeling among
the poor; and indeed to alienate the general body of the common
people from the government under which they live. Surely it
were better that charity had been left to its own spontaneous
operation, and so as to insure the kindly play of good will on the
part of its dispensers, and gratitude on the part of its recipients;
surely this must give rise to a better and a blander community,
than when the one party are led to challenge a sustenance as
their privilege and their due; and the other party, to defend
themselves against the encroachment, labor to make the privilege
as worthless as they may, by assimilating to the uttermost the
treatment of paupers to the treatment of criminals. In such a
condition of things, we behold the materials of a fierce and fiery
fermentation in the hearts of the lower orders-most hurtful to
their own spirits, and most hazardous to the peace of society.
The first great blunder in this legislation, was to ordain a law of
compulsory relief at all; and when, to save the ruinous consequences of this law, the relief was made as degrading as pos55




434              MEMOIR PRESENTED TO THE
sible, this was attempting to correct one evil by another, or to
bring about a right result by what mathematicians would call a
compensation of errors. The first may be regarded as a disturbing force in one direction, and the second as a disturbing force in
the opposite direction. Let both be removed, and the business of
charity, when restored to its own proper character, would proceed in the right and natural course, without error and without
deviation.
15. In every way then, it is better for a nation to keep itself
clear of any legal enactment for the relief of indigence; and
more especially for a government, not to take out of the hands of
its people, the duties which they owe either to themselves or to
their relatives, or to their neighbors. The great lesson to be
learned from the example of England is, that the economic condition of the lower classes is not improved but deteriorated by the
establishment of a compulsory provision for the destitute-which
provision too, besides aggravating the miseries of their state, has,
by introducing the heterogeneous element of an imagined right
into the business of charity, turned what ought to have been
altogether a matter of love into a matter of angry litigation, and
greatly distempered the social condition of England, by the heartburnings of a perpetual contest between the higher and humbler
orders of the commonwealth.
16. But it must be admitted, that, though this be the wise and even
benevolent part of a government, devising for the welfare of its
subjects, it may not be the policy by which best to conciliate the
affections of the multitude. There is in it a certain unmoved
and cold-blooded aspect of insensibility to distress-the appearance of a heartless indifference to the sufferings and the sympathies of our common nature. It has been matter of boasting
complacency to the writers of England, when expatiating on the
perfection of their own government-that they could speak, not
merely of the wisdom and the justice, but also of the humanity
of their laws: and the law to which they make their most confident appeal in support of this assertion, is their own law of
pauperism. It no doubt conduces mightily to the strength and
popularity of any government, when it can stand forth in the
guise of kindness to the most helpless of its people; but kindness
in the expression, or even in the real and honest purpose, may
often be cruelty in effect. And never was this more strikingly
exemplified than by England's famous law-prompted we have
no doubt, by feelings of the sincerest benevolence; but which,
notwithstanding, has enhanced and multiplied tenfold the sufferings that were meant to be relieved by it. It has become therefore all the more desirable, that the occasions should be pointed
out, on which a government might have the opportunity of coming forth ostensibly as the friend. and so at the same time as to
relieve and substantially to be the benefactor of the afflicted



ROYAL INSTITUTE OF FI\ANcCEI.           435
with the same aspect of munificence and mercy to the destitute
upon its forehead, which made the government of England so
popular at the first enactment of its Poor-Law; but without
those tremendous consequences on the character and comfort of
the lower orders, which the experience of centuries has demonstrated to follow inevitably in its train.
17. It is the part of every well-principled government to discriminate between a seeming and a real good to the population;
and never for the sake of popularity to provide the former, even
if it only practise thereby a harmless deceit on the public imagination-and still more, if under the guise of an apparent blessing
to the poor, there lurks an influence at once ruinous both to the
moral and economic prosperity of the lower orders. But, on the
other hand, should the good to be provided be free of any such
alloy, and at the same time be as apparent as it is real, then. it is
not only a well-principled but an eminently politic and wise proceeding in a government, to determine on the adoption of itthereby earning the grateful affections of the people; and, at the
same time, scattering amongst them those solid and unquestionable benefits, which may abide the test of experience, and prove
to be of great and actual service to the interests of' humanity.
Now, a law of relief for general indigence does not realize both
these conditions. It may carry upon its front an aspect of benignity to the poor; but fraught with innumerable evils, will at
length turn out to be the mockery of an unreal blessing, or rather
a deadly act of hostility to their best interests; and all the more
grievous, that it is in the semblance and with the promises of truest
friendship. In defect of such a law then, can any other law of
relief be specified in which both the conditions will hold?-full of
promise even at the outset, and not behind in performance afterward-a law which not only expresses some great purpose of
obvious benevolence, but which executes that purpose to the full;
and without inflicting, as the law of pauperism unquestionably
does, deterioration or discomfort on the objects of its care.
18. A law of relief for general indigence does not fulfil these
conditions; but a law of relief for disease may. There is no
fund that can possibly be raised, which will overtake the former.
But with a small fraction of the country's wealth, the latter can
be overtaken. The distinction between these two objects-that
is, between a public charity for the relief of indigence, and a public charity for the relief of disease-must not have occurred to
the civilized governments of Europe, else it would have been
more frequently acted on; and yet on the moment of its being
stated, it is a distinction abundantly obvious in itself, and alike
obvious in the reasons of it. An ostensible provision for the relief of poverty creates more poverty. An ostensible provision
for the relief of disease does not create more disease. The human
will is enlisted on the side of poverty by the provision which is




436              MEMOIR PRESENTED TO THE
made for it. No such provision will ever enlist the human will
on the side of disease. Let proclamation be made of a law which
guarantees every man against starvation-and this were tantamount to the proclaiming a jubilee of exemption from the toils of
industry, from the cares of providence, from the duties of family
and the sympathies of social life; and by the check thus given to
all the natural incentives, whether of private exertion for one's
own interest or of private charity for the good of others, there
might ensue a constantly increasing poverty that will ever keep
ahead of the increasing fuind, by which it is vainly hoped to quell
the mischief that rises into greater dimensions with every new
and larger attempt to overtake it. To think of providing for the
wants of poverty by the ordination of an adequate supply, is
every way as irrational, as to aim at the extinction of a fire by
pouring oil upon it. It is not so with the attempt to provide, and
that even in the most legal, and certain and open manner, for the
wants of disease. And this is the reason of the difference.
Though poverty in itself, be not pleasant, yet the path of indolence and dissipation which leads to it, is abundantly pleasant
and alluring; and so thousands are prepared to rush upon this
descending path, on the moment that the consequent poverty is
disarmed of its terrors, by the protection and the promises of
law. It is thus that under such a system men are tempted, and
that in constantly increasing numbers, to become voluntarily
poor; but no system, no multiplication of funds or of hospitals,
will (with a few rare exceptions, far too rare to be practically of
any weight in a general argument) tempt men to become voluntarily diseased. No man will break a limb for the sake of its
skilful amputation in an infirmary; or put out his eyes for the
benefit of admittance to a blind asylum; or become wilfully dumb,
or deranged, or leprous, that he might lay claim to any treatment or guardianship, which may have been provided at the expense of the nation for these respective maladies. In the very
constitution of our sentient nature, in its repugnance to pain and
physical suffering, we have the strongest possible guarantee
against men wilfully becoming patients, in order to their admission into an asylum for disease. We have no such guarantee, but
the opposite, against men becoming paupers, in order to their admission into an asylum for indigence. An indefinite provision for
want is ever sure to multiply its objects; and the evil recedes and
enlarges, with every advance that is made upon it. A certain
definite provision on the other hand for disease will be as sure to
overtake its objects. By every new contribution we approach
the nearer to a distinct and satisfactory fulfilment; nor does the
benevolence whether of the government or of associated philanthropists, need to stay its hand, under the apprehension that one
sufferer more will be added to the melancholy catalogue of disease, because of all the care and tenderness which can possibly




ROYAL INSTITUTE OF Fr.ANCE.             437
be bestowed upon it. This forms the great distinction between
the two cases.  The open proclamation of a free entry into
asylums of disease would make a clear abridgment of human
misery, and bring no new or additional disease into existence.
The like proclamation of a free entry into the asylums of indigence, would bring a world of new poverty into existence, and
swell more every year the amount of pauperism.  The final outgoing of such a system were at length to absorb all the resources
of the country, and beggar its whole population.
19. The antipathy of all our most enlightened political economists to a public charity for the relief of indigence, has been
ascribed to a cold and unfeeling hardihood of soul. And the
imputation may be true sometimes; but is calumny in all those
instances, numerous it is to be hoped, when the moving principle
of' their hostility is a real concern for the substantial interests of
the lower orders-the desire to ward off a system which they
honestly believe to have a withering influence both on the character and comfort of the general population. At all events, if it
can be demonstrated of any public charity, that it is altogether
free of this deleterious tendency, and works an unquestionable
good to its objects, without any alloy to discourage or repel the
attempts of the benevolent to support it-this holds out a noble
opportunity for the enemies of a Poor-law, to redeem their character, and manifest the real spirit and design by which they are
actuated. Now, a public charity for disease just presents this
very opportunity.  The halt, and the blind, and the maimed, and
the impotent, and the dumb, and the lunatic-stand before us.
with a special mark impressed upon them by the hand of Providence, and which at once announces both their necessity and
their claim, for the unqualified sympathy of all their fellows. It
would give rise to no ulterior demand on the benevolence of the
country, though receptacles were opened wide enough and fiequent enough to harbor them all. A certain definite amount of
suffering and distress would be cleared away from the territory
of human wretchedness, without any baleful operation on the
territory beyond it. That mischief, which, like the spreading
leprosy, is ever sure to follow a public and certain provision for
indigence, is, on an obvious principle, never to be apprehended
from a provision however public and however certain for the cure
or alleviation of disease. If it was under the burden of such an
apprehension, that these philanthropists stood aloof, and refused
their countenance and their aid to the one species of charity-let
them now, when relieved from the burden, come forth both with
their testimony and their wealth in support of the other species
of charity. If in the first place they kept feeling at abeyance,
because philosophy forbade the indulgence of it —let them in the
second place, when there is no cold obstruction in the way, demonstrate the power and promptitude of their humanity, by a




438              MEMOIR PRESENTED TO THE
ready forthgoing of their sympathies, now emancipated from all
restraint, on those involuntary distresses which nature and necessity have imposed. By their opposition to the institutes of pauperism, they have proved themselves to be before others in the soundness of their understandings —let them by their large and willing
support for the institutes of disease, prove that they are not behind others in the sensibilities of the heart. If at the dictate of
reason thev withheld their liberalities from the one cause-when
the other presents itself, and reason not only withdraws its disallowance but urges its unexceptionable claims, then let them
show that they have an eye for pity and a hand open as day for
melting charity.
20. That this lesson has yet to be learnt by the great majority
of our philanthropists, is obvious from the review of those public
charities, which have been founded by the munificence of individuals —whether in the form of bequests or of benevolent
associations. It is not many years ago, since a Royal Commission was appointed in Britain, to inquire into the public charities
of England and Wales; and it is striking to observe the large
number of those which have the relief of indigence for their
object, and the very small number which are instituted for the
treatment of disease. In the account now before us of these
charities abridged from the Commissioners' Reports, we reckoned
from the commencement of their enumeration no less than a
hundred and thirty-six various charities of London and Bristol,
of which the great majority were for indigence alone; and a few
for education, before we arrived at one for disease being a charity
for blind persons. The erection of alms-houses, the distribution
of bread, the supply of coals, loans or gifts of money to the indigent; and a countless variety of other distinctions, but all pointing
to the general object of the relief of poverty-these outnumber
the institutions for education at least in the proportion of six to
one, and the institutions for disease in the proportion of fifty to
one. We feel quite assured, whether we take a general survey
of the whole country or limit our attention to one of its large
towns, that, in the testamentary dispositions of the benevolent,
there is a very great and general misdirection of wealth to the
wrong object. A known and certain provision held out to indigence, will create the indigence-a provision, however certain or
however ample made, for disease, will never create or multiply
the disease. And yet, in spite of this obvious consideration, far
the greatest proportion of the legacies which are left for benevolent purposes, are left for the relief of poverty which can never
be overtaken; and so small a proportion left for disease which
may be overtaken, as to come greatly short of the necessity.
Within these few years, there have been two magnificent sums
bequeathed in charity to the city of Edinburgh; and this will
add two asylums to a number formerly in excess-because asy



ROYAL INSTITUTE OF FRANCE.              439
lums not for any specific maladies but for general want.  Meanwhile the Infirmary is inadequately supported.  The Deal and
Dumb Asylum is limited, with a very few exceptions, to those
whose relatives can afford to pay for their maintenance.  The
Blind Asylum is on a very limited scale, and in great difficulties;
and there is no institution at all in the capital of Scotland, for the
gratuitous admission of lunatics. By a more judicious destination
of their wealth on the part of those two individuals, a real and unquestionable blessing would have been contbrred on society-families relieved of their blind, or fatuous, or other diseased members;
and without any substitution of families alike helpless and unfortunate in their places. But the reverse of this takes place with the
asylums for indigence. Hundreds of poor may be admitted
within their thresholds; but these are sure to be replaced by an
equal, we think by a greater number, and the general community
labors under as great a burden of want and wretchedness as
before.
21. It is instructive to observe the relative estimation in which
these two objects are held by the charitable-we mean the relief
of poverty, and the relief of disease.  We thought it a good way
of settling this question, to take the volume which presented an
account of all the public charities that had been found in a certain
number of the towns and parishes in England, abridged from the
Reports of the Royal Commissioners on Charitable Foundations.
These charities, in the great bulk of them originated in the spontaneous benevolence of individuals who very generally conveyed,
not by gifts while they were living, but by bequests which took
effect after their death, the whole or part of their wealth to certain philanthropic purposes. It is marvellous to contemplate the
preference which these testators had for the relief of poverty,
rather than for the relief of disease. The distinction which we
have so much insisted on must not have been present to their
minds.  They must not have adverted to the utter failure of every
attempt by public charity to overtake the indigence of' the land,
or even to diminish the amount of it —seeing that the relieving
process, in virtue of which a certain number were fed and
clothed, was followed up and accompanied by a creative process,
in virtue of which at least an equal, we think a greater amount
of poverty, or of hunger and nakedness, was created in general
society. And neither along with this must they have adverted to
the obvious impossibility of a similar effect in the treatment of
disease —seeing that the relieving process in this department of
charity never could be so followed up by a creative process, in
virtue of which any more disease could be called into existence.
We have reckoned the number of such destinations of which an
account is given in the work now referred to-comprehending
the Charities of London, along with those of' ten other great
towns, besides a number of parishes in England; and we find,




440              MEMOIR PRESENTED TO THE
that, while there are only eleven distinct allotments of land or
money for the relief of disease in all these places, there are among
the same places no less than 712 for the relief of indigence. It
must also be mentioned that the number of Educational Charities
amounts to 202; but perhaps it will exhibit a fairer proportion of
the two, if we look separately to each of the distinct localities;
and, accordingly, the following are a few examples out of the
many. In the borough of Stafford, we have an account of 19
charitable bequests for the indigent, seven for education, and none
for disease. For the town of Northampton, we have an account
of 31 charitable funds for indigence, and 9 for education, and none
for disease. In the city of Gloucester. we have an account of 21
instituted funds for charity, 6 for education, and none for disease.
In the town of Leeds, we have an account of 13 public benefactions for the poor, and 8 for education. In the city of York, we
recognize 48 benefactions for poverty, and 23 for education. In
the large and populous town of Manchester, we mark 31 distinct
heads of charity for the poor, and 19 for education.  It should be
observed, however, that we count every object to be education,
which goes any way to the instruction of the people, whether
it be in religious doctrine or in ordinary scholarship-including
therefore the sums allocated for the repairs of churches, and the
preaching of sermons, as well as for the expenses of week-day
seminaries.  In the laborious enumeration that we drew out, we
generally rated all the individual bequests as one, which were
made over to one and the same institution. Of the 11 cases of
provision for disease we state as specimens the conveyance by
Robert Hudson, of eight acres on trust, to apply the rents in providing medicine and medical aid for the poor of the parish of
Selbv; and the munificent bequest of Mr. Thomas Henslow of
~20,000 for a blind asylum at Manchester.  It was altogether in
keeping with this, that the same individual should bequeath ~1,000
for the Manchester Infirmary, and ~1,000 for a Lunatic Hospital.
22. We are aware that we have taken account of but a very
small proportion of the charities in England, and have not even
completed the list of the charities in all the places which we have
now specified. We were necessarily limited to the examination
of such charities as the royal commissioners were empowered to
inquire into; but they were not excluded from taking cognizance
of the institutions for disease, any more than of the institutions
either for want or for learning; and the proportions we have now
been enabled to exhibit, do, it is certain, evince most strikingly,
a preference on the part of the benevolent founders for those
charitable institutions, which have for their object the relief of
that indigence into which men might voluntarily descend, and to
which descent these bequests hold out a resistless temptation.  It
is melancholy to think, that, by a small fraction of the wealth
thus thrown away, institutions for disease might have been pro



ROYAL INSTITUTE OF FRANCE.              441
vided all over the land, and so as to leave no involuntary sufferer
under the inflictions of nature and necessity, in want of any likely
appliance, by which to cure or to alleviate his distress.
23. It is not for us to enter into a full detail on the public
charities of France.  We rejoice to observe in the city of Paris
so many institutions for disease, while the sums spent on the public
relief of indigence, derived chiefly from the produce of public
shows and public amusements, form but an insignificant fraction
of what is expended on the same object in London. We, at the
same time, were astonished at the immense proportion which the
number who received charity at their own houses, bore to the
population of the city —having in 1835 amounted to one in 12.32
of the whole community. It is our confident opinion, yet we
desire to express it with all humility and respect, that the sure
effect of such distributions is to augment the discomfort and moral
deterioration of the lower classes. The sum given to each individual is small; but it should ever be recollected, that the mischief is not proportionally small. That relaxation of industrious
and providential habits, and that relaxation also of the family and
relative obligations, which are the sure consequences of pauperism, are not to be measured by the sum received, but by the sum
expected; and each, in virtue of the natural confidence which
every man has in his own good fortune, may look for a larger
share of the public beneficence, than he shall ever succeed in
realizing. It is thus, we apprehend, that every known charity
for the relief of indigence multiplies its objects; and it is woful
to think, that, while the amount of suffering is increased thereby,
it is in virtue of a process which carries along with it the tenfold
greater evil of an increase of depravity. The decay of character
and the decay of comfort keep pace with each other-for who
does not acknowledge, that, if the pride of honest independence,
an affection for one's own kindred, and a sympathy for those of
one's own neighborhood are all enfeebled under a system of
pauperism-that system must have a withering influence, both on
the worth and the well-being of society? The evil we imagine
to be greatly aggravated by those places of reception (Hospices)
-where applicants, with no other qualification than poverty, find
a harbor and a maintenance provided for them. If the out-door
relief be of small account-beyond this there is the ulterior prospect of an in-door admittance, to all the necessaries at least, if
not the comforts of existence. The magical influence of hope
will extend to a far greater multitude than to those actual receivers of charity, who are so far fortunate as to have their hopes at
least in part realized. The indolence, the improvidence, the dissipation, the disregard to every claim of family or neighborthese are the fertile causes of want, or of want unrelieved. And
these are stimulated throughout the mass of the community by the
promises of pauperism, to a far greater extent than the promises
56




442              MEMOIR PRESENTED TO THE
are ever realized. We think, it may with all safety be affirmed,
that neither Paris nor any town in Europe has at this moment a
less, we think it has a much greater amount of unrelieved poverty,
because of the public charities for general indigence which have
been established in the midst of them-beguiling the people from
a dependence on themselves; and from the duties of family and
social life, which they owe to the helpless who are around them.
24. Yet however mischievous in their operation these public
institutions for the relief of indigence may be, we do not plead
for the immediate abolition of them. We think that even justice
requires the continuance of their wonted allowances, to all whom
the very existence of these proclaimed charities has allured from
the habits of industry and self-dependence. Let them be seen
therefore to their graves in the sufficiency of their present allowances, unless it be found on a scrutiny of their cases that they may
be committed back again to their own resources. It is only by a
gradual process that we desire the extinction of any of those institutions against which we have contended. We would steadily
refuse the admission of any new applicants, while we would
spare the old recipients; and would rather wait to be delivered
from the burden of aiding them by the operation of death, than
incur the violence of a movement per saltum, by the instant dismissal, either of the actual inmates from their asylums, or of the
actual out-door pensioners from the periodical grants which they
have been in the habit of receiving. We would not thus violate
the law of continuity; but suffer every institute for the relief of
poverty gradually to die a natural death, by the successive deaths
of the individuals who now depend upon them. Only we would
take on no new individuals; and feel assured, that, if these either
were taught to draw upon their own resources, or were left to the
sympathies whether of neighborhood or of relationship, we should
find, as the result of this change of system —that the community
would become economically more comfortable, and morally more
virtuous than before.
25. It were well that the governments, both of states and of
cities, were more alive to the distinction which we have endeavored to unfold, between the one species of charity and the
other. The argument against a public charity for indigence,
applies so little to the public charities for disease —that practically,
while the former ought to be abolished, the latter, with a proper
degree of regulation and watchfulness, might be encouraged to
the uttermost. If a government endangered somewhat its popularity, by suffering the one class of institutions to fall into desuetude-this, it is to be hoped, would be greatly more than compensated, by the patent character of beneficence and mercy, which
stood on their ordinance of an instant provision for all those
maladies that come under the best and most effectual treatment
in a public asylum. A door might be opened, not only with




ROYAL INSTITUTE OF FRANCE.              443
safety, but with an unalloyed blessing to society —wide enough
for the reception of all the maimed, and all the impotent, and all
the bereft of their faculties, whether of sight, or reason, or speech
or hearing.  Infirmaries and fever-hospitals; and even dispensaries, though these last seem  the most difficult to be guarded
from abuse, might be multiplied to the extent of the necessity if
not of the demand for them. We are aware of the complaints
which have been made, and nowhere more than in Paris, of the
undue advantage that even patients as well as paupers might take
of the provision that is made for them. But surely disease admits of being more distinctly and decisively tested than poverty.
Neither is the one so multiplied by institutions raised in its behalf,
as the other is. No man can counterfeit the loss of a limb, or
even the loss of his sight, and reason, and hearing, so as long to
impose on the guardians of an asylum into which he may have
found his way.  But any man can counterfeit poverty; or, what
is still more decisive, he not only can but he will create poverty
-when the temptation of a public and a promised relief are held
out to a little more indolence, or a little more dissipation. If there
have been mutilations practised, or if there have been a voluntary
contraction of real diseases, in order to qualify for the sustenance
and the shelter held forth in a place of cure —these, it is demonstrable, compose but an insignificant fraction, compared with that
host of unworthy applicants, who crowd the avenue which leads
to a place of supply for the wants of indigence. The few and
incidental evils which might at times be realized even in an infirmary (hopital), do not obscure the line of demarcation between
such an institution and a poor's house (hospice)-the evils of which
are sure to be multiplied tenfold, with every increase of its funds
and its allowances. The fictitious disease which knocks at the
door of an asylum, bears a very small proportion to the fictitious
poverty. But the great distinction between the two charities lies
in this-that the real disease (excepting that which is contracted
by vicious indulgence) brought into existence by the provision
made for it, bears the proportion of an infinitesimal to the real
poverty, which comes into being under the malignant influence
of a public charity-by the relaxation of industrious and economical habits, as well as of all those ties that bind the members
whether of a household or of a neighborhood into a common
sympathy with each other.
26. And there is one class of sufferers about whom there can
be no mistake, and who possess an indisputable and pre-eminent
claim upon human sympathy. We mean those-on whom all the
resources of the medical art have been expended in vain; and
who, after a season of full probation in an hospital of disease, are
at length pronounced to be beyond hope and beyond recovery.
The great desideratum is an asylum, or place of refuge for these
poor incurables-who, instead of being devolved a heavy and




444              MEMOIR PRESENTED TO THE
hopeless burden on the families to whlch they belong, should al
least have it in their power to enter some such house of' mexcy
open to receive them-where they might meet with every possible alleviation which human skill can devise, or human kindness
can administer. For their sakes it were well, if even the title of
the institution were softened from a House for Incurables to a
House for Convalescents-through which all who leave the infirmary may pass on their transition to perfect health and strength,
after the medical treatment is over; and only those be detained
whom the hand of nature has stricken with irrecoverable disease,
and whom the God of nature has thus signalized and marked out
for the unqualified sympathy of all their fellows.
27. The whole of this argument receives a beautiful illustration,
or I would even say, is strengthened and confirmed, by the example of our Saviour. He could have brought, nay, he actually
on two occasions did bring down, food by miracle, to appease the
hunger of a starving multitude: but refused to do so a third time,
when, in the sordid expectation of a meal, they ran after him for
the purpose of being again regaled by his bounty. " Verily you
have come not to see the miracle but to eat of the loaves and be
filled." What a contrast between this reserve in the supply of
food, and the unexcepted freeness of his ministrations in the supply of health, which he brought down by miracle on every patient
who applied to him for a cure. There is no recorded example
of his ever having bid away from him the maimed, or the impotent, or the palsied, or the lunatic, or the vexed with sundry and
sore diseases; but in every case of which we read, " He looked
to them and had compassion on them, and healed them all." I
have often thought of this history as a guide and an example to
us, in our public charities. For in the notoriety which he attained,
any charity of his was in fact a public charity; and it is obvious,
that, had he brought down food indefinitely by. miracle, it would
have discharged the people from all their habits of industry and
foresight, and disorganized the whole of Judea, by trooping
multitudes running after this great prophet for the purpose of
being fed by him. But no such consequence was to be apprehended when, instead of a miraculous almoner to all his countrymen, He became a miraculous Physician to those limited and
comparatively few who sought the relief of their malady at His
hand; and, accordingly, when, in the march of his wise and
effective beneficence through the land of Judea, the dumb, and
the blind, and the afflicted with various infirmities, came forth of
the surrounding villages-he laid no prohibition on these children
of blameless and helpless disease. We have much to learn from
this proceeding of our Saviour's; but, whatever discouragements
we may draw from his example in the erection of an asylum for
indigence, we can draw none against the erection of an asylum
for disease. And while the boding apprehension both of moral




ROYAL INSTITUTE OF FRANCE.             445
and physical disaster hangs over the one institution —do we infer
of the other that its door may be thrown open, and all its accommodations be widened and multiplied, till every imploring patient
be taken in, and a harbor of sufficient amplitude be provided for
all those sufferings which an uncontrollable necessity has laid
upon the species.




AN HISTORICAL AND CRITICAL VIEW
OF THE
SPECULATIVE PHILOSOPHY OF EUROPE
IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY.
BY J. D. MORELL, A.M.
[From the North British Reviewfor February. London: 1847.]
TI1E Author of this important work began his studies on the
Mental Philosophy in London; proceeded thence to Glasgow;
after an attendance on the classes there, went to Germany, where
he heard lectures, and read the works of its great masters; last
of all, passed into France and became conversant with the writings of Cousin, and others of the Eclectic School now forming in
Paris. Such a thorough work of preparation bids well for great
results, a first specimen of which we have in the volumes before
us; and truly, the force and clearness wherewith they are written, and this by one who has travelled so extensively over his own
select and favorite department in the territory of human knowledge, fully warrants the expectation of still greater and more important services at his hand.
And it is long since any work has made its appearance before
a public in a state of greater expectancy and readiness for its
lessons. The subject of it is altogether adapted to the necessity
of our times. We can imagine no two things more alien from
each other than is the speculative philosophy of Britain from that
of Germany; and, for the sake of that truth which is one and universal, a common understanding, an adjustment between them, is
imperiously called for. The mental hlabitudes of the two countries are wide as the poles asunder; and did this divergency take
effect only in some region far aloft, and where it could have no
possible bearing upon human interests or human affairs, we might
simply gaze upon it as a matter of philosophic curiosity. But
touching, as it does, on the nearest and most affecting of all our
concerns, the prospect of a collision now at hand between the two
philosophies in question cannot but awaken a certain sense of




MORELL S MODERN PHILOSOPHY.             447
fearfulness in the minds of those who both admit the supreme homage that is due to truth, and at the same time the homage that
is due to religion; and, accordingly, it is not too much to say that
such a fearfulness is now beginning to be felt. For we may now
lay our account with a far more copious influx than heretofore of
the German metaphysics into this country. Not only is the language more generally studied among the upper classes of British
society; but there is in progress at this moment, a regular series
of translations, and that, too, of those authors who have most signalized themselves by a certain-daring recklessness of speculation,
which, while it will repel the confidence of many, might captivate
and engage many more by the spectacle, at all times interesting,
of great mental intrepidity and mental power. The very strangeness and peculiarity, both of diction and thought, will set the
curiosity of numbers upon edge; and, besides, with such heralds
as Coleridge and Carlyle, whose writings have so powerful a hold
on our literary public, to open the way for them, we may surely
reckon on their welcome entertainment by thousands of the readers in our land. Now, all this is not only the anticipation, but the
dread of many who feel as if the stability of our creeds were fast
giving way; or as if all our creeds, and institutions, and existing
usages, were now on the eve of some frightful overthrow. Nor
do we hold these terrors to be altogether spectral and imaginary.
But it is well to know the dimensions of the spectre; for, if seen
in its own definite magnitudes and outlines, it might cease to be so
formidable. A bugbear is always more terrific than the nucleus
or the naked reality from which it hath expanded; and, at all
events, it is right to be told what the precise force and armor is
of the enemy we might be called to encounter. This service,
and a most important one it is, has been ably executed by the
author of the work under review. It is entitled, " An Historical
and Critical Review of the Speculative Philosophy of Europe in
the Nineteenth Century." As regards the historical part, we feel
truly thankful for his informations; and as to the critical, in
which, over and above his informations, we have also his judgments, we are thankful for this part too of his work, but will take
leave to share it with him.
We confess, that our chief earnestness is to find, amid all these
conflicting systems and speculations, that our theology is safe;
nor do we altogether understand the obviously sensitive aversion
of our author to the idea of coming into collision with it. We
fully acquit him of all that mock homage rendered by Hume and
other infidels to Christianity-as if its questions were unfit for the
tribunal of reason, and should ever be carried thence to the only
competent and higher tribunal of faith. We rejoice to observe
of Mr. Morell, that he is altogether free of such contemptuousness;
and that, when he does speak of Religion, it is in terms of uniform respect for it, even in its most serious and evangelistic form.




448            MORELL S MODERN PHILOSOPHY.
But if so, what then is he afraid of?  Most assuredly Religion is
worthy of his respect only in so far as it is true; and if true, why
does he shrink back from it, as if it were a heterogeneous element,
and not to be admitted into the field of his argument-even
although the philosophy of which he is the historian makes free
with the very essence and first elements of religion, and, if left all
to its own way, would end in sweeping it from the face of the
earth? And, besides, must not truth in every one department be
in fullest harmony with truth in every other? and where, we
ask, —we shall not say the impiety,-but where is the philosophy
of refusing evidence, if it only be logical and legitimate evidence,
from whatever quarter of human contemplation it may come?
Most assuredly we shall not denounce any system or any speculation that is here recorded, however extravagant or profane it
may chance to be-we shall not denounce it as impious; though
surely we are at liberty to charge it as unphilosophical, yet only on
such evidence and for such reasons as might rightfully challenge
the belief of soundly philosophic men. We desire to wear no
other shield for our defensive, and to wield no other armor for
our offensive warfare, in fighting the battles of the faith.
And, now that we have done with these preliminaries, our first,
and, as yet, very general remark, is, that our author seems to us
in the natural spirit of one who magnifies his office, somewhat to
have misstated its place among the sciences, and greatly to have
exaggerated the pretensions and powers of the mental philosophy.
Nor is he at all singular in this. Leibnitz, in one of his Logical
and Metaphysical Tractates. entitled, "Reflections on Locke's
Essay of the Human Understanding," tells us, that " of all inquiries, this is the most important, for that it is the key to every
other. Dr. Brown, in his Second Lecture, entitled, "Relation
of the Philosophy of the Mind to the Sciences in General," offers
a number of like testimonials, which would need to be greatly
qualified. He tells us " how essential a right view of the science
of mind is to every other science, even to those sciences which
superficial thinkers might conceive to have no connection with it."
He firther speaks of " a close acquaintance with the nature of that
intellectual medium through which alone the phenomena of matter
become visible to us, and of those intellectual instruments by
which the objects of every science, and of every science alike,
are measured, and divided, and arranged." And then he says of
mind, that "it is an agent operating in the production of new results, and employing for this purpose the known laws of thought,
in the same manner as, on other occasions, it employs the known
laws of matter." And, lastly, without multiplying our quotations
from him any further, he concludes, that " to the philosophy of
mind, then, every speculation, in every science, may be said to
have relation as to a common centre." Even the calmly sedate
and sober-minded Dr. Reid tells, in his own person, "' that a dis



MORELL S MODERN PHILOSOPHY.            449
tinct knowledge of the powers of the mind would undoubtedly
give great light to many other branches of science;" and
quotes with approbation from Mr. Hurne the following sentence,
that " all the sciences have a relation to human nature; and, however wide any of them may seem to run from it, they still return
back by one passage or another.  This is the centre and capital
of the sciences, which being once masters of, we may easily extend our conquests everywhere."  Now, without citing innumerable depositions to the same effect from Locke and many others,
there is one thing, on which we touch but slightly at present, as
we may recur to it afterwards, yet which we should like even
now the reader to bear in mind. It is one thing to say, with
Mr. Hurne, that human nature is the centre of the sciences,
and altogether another thing to say that the knowledge of human
nature is the centre of the sciences. We should greatly like that
this distinction were clearly apprehended. We shall not dispute
the temperate and well-weighed deliverance of Reid, that this
knowledge would give light to other branches of science; while
we cannot go the length to which the analogies of Dr. Brown
would carry one, as if all other science hung upon the philosophy
of mind in the same way that it hangs upon mind itself. It is
most true, that, according to the powers of an instrument, so, when
fully used, will be its performances; and, according to the mental faculties, so. when in like manner used, will be the mental
acquisitions.  But though the acquisitions depend, and wholly
depend upon the faculties, they do not thus depend upon our
knowledge of the faculties.  There can be no question, that as is
the psychology of mind, so is the state of its sensations and of its
beliefs, nay, of all its sciences-insomuch, that a different or reverse psychology would give rise to different or reverse sciences.
But it follows not, and it argues a subtle misunderstanding of the
whole matter to think otherwise, it follows not that, therefore, the
study of this psychology is a prerequisite to the study of the
sciences. Without the visual faculty, there could be no vision;
yet is there no antecedent necessity to become acquainted with
the visual faculty ere we can see. Without the knowing faculty, there could be no knowledge; yet there is not, on that
account, the antecedent necessity for our making acquaintance
with the knowing faculties ere we can know. Ere we look out
upon the external world, we do not look back upon the image of
it, as graven on the retina-nay, though that image had never
been observed, though the first touch of the dissecting instrument
had so deranged the structure of the eye, as to make the exhibition of it impossible, yet, with the exception of this single phenomenon, might the beautiful science of optics have been as complete and comprehensive a science as it is at this moment. And,
in like manner, we are not to wait for the perfecting of mental
science, ere that hopeful progress can be made towards the per57




450             MORELL S MODERN PHILOSOPHY.
fecting of all the other sciences. It may be very long before those
physiologists be at one, who speculate on the functions of the
optic nerve which retires behind the organ of vision, till lost in
obscurity among the convolutions of the brain —yet do all men
see aright notwithstanding.  And it might be just as long before
that our mental physiologists. or psychologists, come to a full and
final settlement on all their questions; yet, meanwhile, might all
other men of science, save themselves, by philosophizing aright
on all the other departments of human knowledge.  It it quite a
just representation to speak of the mind as the centre of all the
sciences, even as the sun is the centre of our planetarium. But
it was not the Copernican system, discovered only a few centuries ago, which set the planets rightly agoing. It did not give
the law to their movements; it only discovered the law. And
neither does the mental philosophy give the law to the mental
processes; it but discovers their law.  In estimating the real
worth of this philosophy, and the relation in which it stands to the
other sciences, there is often a strange confounding of the knowledge of things with the things themselves. Had sceptics never
questioned the authority of first principles, and so thrown us back
on the study of mind and of its laws, the science of psychology,
most interesting in itself, yet, for the mere purpose of giving evidence or stability to any of the other sciences, might never have
been called for.
We are not going to depreciate the mental philosophy; or, at
least, we claim the justice of being read to the end, ere such a
charge shall be fastened on us. Though we see much to admire
in M. Comte, yet do we hold him utterly in the wrong, in his
treatment of the mental and metaphysical sciences; nor upon this
subject can we go along with our own Abraham  Tucker-while
it must be admitted, that there is much of substantial truth in his
following deliverance:'The science of abstruse learning," he
says, "I consider in the same light with the ingenious writer who
compared it to Achilles' spear, that heals the wounds it had made
before. It serves to repair the damage itself had occasioned, and
this, perhaps, is all it is good for. It casts no additional light on
the paths of life, but disperses the clouds with which it had overspread them before. It advances not the traveller one step on
his journey, but conducts him back again to the spot from which
he had wandered." The child sees an apple on the table, and
affirms an apple to be there. A Berkleian philosopher labors to
disprove the assertion. A second metaphysician arises and repels
the sophistry of the first. But it is not he who gives the law to
the child-he but recognizes and respects the law already planted
in its constitution by the hand of nature. A sound metaphysics
is not the fountain-head of all science. It is but the protector or
guardian of the fountain-head, and stationed there to ward off the
inroads of those who would vitiate or disturb it. The following




MORELL S MODERN PIIILOSOPHY.                  451
sentences fiom. Kant himself are altogether to our mind.  "To
deny its utility (of mental science) is to deny the utility of a
police, because their only function is to prevent the outrages to
which we should be otherwise exposed, and so as that everybody
might in safety go about his own business."  Had there been no
perverse metaphysics to bewilder men, each of the sciences might
have gone about its own business sftely and prosperously; and,
save for the interest which attaches to its own lessons, a counteractive metaphysics might never have been required.
But on this subject let us hear Mr. Morell himself, and the more
that his arguments, or rather his illustrations, in favor of the mental philosophy, are somewhat peculiar. It is high time, indeed,
that he should speak in his own person; and there is scarcely a
paragraph that we could quote from these masterly volumes, for
the purpose of introducing him to the notice of our readers, which
would not introduce him  favorably.   His phraseology is not
always marked by the most rigorous precision; but throughout
there is a charm of good writing which never fails us-yet in a
philosophic style, too, and that of singular transparency, and expressiveness, and power.  We have seldom read an author who
can make such lucid conveyance of his thoughts, and these never
of light or slender quality, but substantial and deep as the philosophy with which he deals. Even when not convinced by his reasonings, it is difficult to resist the impulse by which we feel ourselves carried along in the flow of his commanding and well constructed sentences. Yet there is nowhere the semblance of an
elaborate construction; but altogether in the manner of one who
wields the pen of a ready writer ca!amno currente-yet of meaning
so patent and palpable, that the reader might follow him oculo
currente.  Even the hieroglyphics of the  Kantian  philosophy
brighten into illuminated characters, at the touch of its accomplished historian.
The following is his reply to the objection against the practical utility of speculative philosophy:-', Such an objection, we reply, if insisted on, would prove fatal to the cause
of almost every branch of human science. It is never expected, and indeed it
is not possible, that the mass of mankind should be acquainted with the process,
by which any kind of investigation whatever is carried on. The search after
truth, even the truths of the phenomenal world, is a process to them completely
enveloped in darkness; all they have to do is to reap the practical fruits of any
discovery, when it is made, without casting one single thought upon the steps
by which others have arrived at it. If we look for a moment at the law by
which thought is propagated, we find that it always descends from the highest
order of thinkers tb those who are one degree below them; from these again it
descends another degree, losing at each step of the descent something more of
the scientific form, until it reaches the mass in the shape of some admitted fact
of which they feel there is not a shadow of doubt, a fact which rests on the authority of what all the world above them says, and which, therefore, they
receive totally regardless of the method of its elimination. Take, for example,
any great fact or law of nature ascertained by means of physical science. Such




452                MORELL'   MODER   Pl IIL3 13O;'; -1.
a fact is first of all perchance wrung from the most close and laborious mathematical analysis; a few perhaps may take the trouble to follow every step of
this process; but the mass even of natural philosophers themselves are content
to see what is the method of investigation, to copy the formulas in which it results, and then put it down as so much further accession to their physical
science. The mass of intelligent, educated minds, again, with a general idea
only of mathematical analysis, accept the fact or law we are now supposing, as
one of the many beautiful results of investigations, which they acknowledge to
be far beyond( the reach of their own powers;-aand from them, lastly, it descends to the rest of the community as a bare fact, which they appropriate to
their own use simply as being a universally acknowledged truth.  The first
scl,)ol-boy you meet would very likely tell you with some accuracy what is the
rapidity of light; but as to any observations on the occultations of Jupiter's
satellites, or on the phenomena of aberration, or any other such method of computing it, on these he has never bestowed a thought. The commonest seaman
that has learned the use of his sextant, applies to his own purposes all the necessary formulas of trigonometry; but as to the methods of investigating such
formulas, such matters lie entirely out of his reach.
"r This law of the descent of thought, however-this gravitation of ascertained
truth from the higher order of mind to the lower, is not confined to the mathematical sciences, nor is it here alone that the results of investigation are transmitted by what may be termed formulas. There are such things as historical
formulas, as formulas for the various theories of the fine arts, andl so also are
there philosophical or metaphysical formulas. The results of long and patient
reflection, in this last case particularly, irnbody themselves in some general
principle, and this principle, after it has been tested, gradually spreads itself
mdownwards from mind to mind, until thousands act upon it every day of their
life, to whom all philosophical thinking is completely f;)reign.  Whlen, therefore, the objection is raised, that metaphysical inquiries lie beyond the reach of
the mass, and cannot practically subserve the general interests of mankind, it is
entirely forgotten or overlooked, that the results of such inquiries are intelligible
to all; nay, that they are amongst the most practically efficient and influential
of all truths which can possibly exist in the mind of man."-Vol. i., pp. 19-21.
Now between the mathematical formula as convertible into
popular use, although the product it may be of the ratifications
and discoveries of many successive ages-between this and the
mental, or as perhaps our author would rather term it, the metaphysical formula, there might be one most important difference.
The former supplies a new instrument of observation, which, but
for the labors of the mathematician, could never have been formed
or brought into operation. Whereas the service of the latter formula, and for which we are indebted to the labors of the mental
analyst, might only be as follows-not to supply a new, but only
to certify and authenticate an old instrument of observation, given
ready-made to all men by the hand of nature; and which all men
could have confidently and successfillly made use of, without the
necessity of being told so by a right metaphysics, had not a wrong
metaphysics cast obscuration over the dictates, and disturbed the
confidence of nature. And this view is in perfect keeping with
the historical illustrations which are subjoined to the extract
that we have now made from our author.  What was it that displaced the formula of Aristotle? Was it not the formula of Lord




MORELL S MODERN PHILLOSOPIIY.          453
Bacon? And what is to displace the formula of Locke, as aggravated since into the worst formulas of Condillac and Cabanis? It
will not, I fear, be the formula of Kant, which itself stands in need
of correction, and has fallen short of the achievement by Dr. Reidl
whose formula it was that displaced the formulas of Berkeley and
Hume? But must we first study Berkeley and Hume upon the
one hand, and then to rid us of their scepticism, make a study of
Dr. Reid upon the other, ere that we make the confident use
which nature bids us of our senses, and proceed on the reality of
an external world? Or, to go further hack, must we first learn
the metaphysics of Aristotle, which tyrannized fbr nearly two
thousand years over the understandings of men, and then unlearn
them bv the corrective metaphysics of the Novum Organum?whose whole lesson it is, that ere we can ascertain the visible
properties of anything, we must look at it-or the audible, we
must listen —or the tangible properties, we must handle-or the
dimensions, we must measure it-or the weight we must weigh it;
or, in short, whatever other property falls within the range of observation, we must take the proper observational method for the
determination of it.  Now that we have been recalled from the
wrong to the right direction, there seems no practical necessity for
taking up our heads, either with the disturbing force which turned
us away, or with the counteractive force which took us back
again. Bacon was the vigorous policeman who drove away Aristotle; but now that the service is effected, is it aught more incumbent to study him ere we enter upon any of the experimental
sciences, than to take lessons at the Scottish school of metaphysics
ere we venture upon the every-day use of our eyes? Most assuredly we have no wish to depreciate the mental philosophy, or,
still less, to banish it from the high place which it deserves to occupy in the encyclopedia of human knowledge. Yet might it not
be true, that, but for its perversities, and so the needful correction
of them, as men could have gone aright about their ordinary business, so philosophers could have gone aright about the business
of all the other sciences, although both the right and the wrong
metaphysics had banished forever from the remembrance of the
world?
The use of our right mathematical formula is not to displace or
set aside a wrong mathematical formula, by which men had been
formerly misled in their computation of longitudes; but it is to
point out a method wholly unknown till the period of its discovery, and without which no sound computation could possibly have
been made. On the other hand, the main use of a right metaphysical formula is not to supply us with any new method of
investigation; but to vindicate the old and natural methods from
which we should never have been tempted, save for the wrong
metaphysical formula which a better metaphysics have now
superseded. The mathematical formula supplies a new lesson




454             MORELL S MODEU- rNiiLO:i'Oi-PY.
till then unheard of. The metaphysical but restores our confidence in the old lessons of common sense, old as human nature
itself, and which we never had deserted, or in which we should
never have lost our confidence, had not a perverse metaphysics
arisen to disturb and darken it. Now that this service has been
rendered, the sciences might be prosecuted with all vigor and
effect, although the right and the wrong metaphysics were alike
forgotten.
And, besides, it should not be forgotten that Bacon's Novum
Organum is properly not a product of the mental philosophy after
all. His main converse was with the outer world. with scarcely,
if ever, a reflex look on the world that is within. A few pages,
comparatively, says Mr. Morell, " would suffice to contain everything he wrote of a strictly metaphysical character."-( Vol. i.,
79.) A pretty good evidence this of what can be achieved for
science without the aid of that philosophy which claims to be the
source of all and the regulator of all. It is worthy of all consideration, that, in contradistinction to those of Descartes, Bacon's
views were chiefly of an objective character, and that upon them
he constructed that method of philosophizing to which all the
observational sciences are so indebted, not even excepting the
science of mind itself. Surely if, at the commencement of that
great epoch in the history of science, the mental philosophy had
so little to do with it, we might well believe, that, after the stream
of investigation had been turned and men were set on the right
path, what had thus begun without the aid of metaphysics, could
also without its aid be continued and carried forward.
But we must be done with these preliminary, and, as yet, very
general observations, that we might address ourselves more
closely to the work before us. We shall not attempt, however,
even so much as an abstract of its multifarious contents; nor will
our space, though enlarged to the maximum allowance, permit
of more, than, first, our account and estimate of the leading systems which are here made to pass before us, and, secondly, our
estimate of Mr. Morell's own philosophy, as far as this can be
gathered from his commentaries. In the execution of this twofold task, its distinct parts may not always stand separately out
from  each other, but be occasionally blended into one; and
throughout there must be a strenuous effort for the utmost possible
condensation, that some room might be left for our views of the
present state and future prospects both of the philosophy and the
faith in our own land —so far as these might be affected by the
growing admiration and interest which are now felt in the teeming speculations of Germany.
And, surely, we might well presume, that for the intelligent
British reader, it is not required that we should dilate on the sensational philosophy of Locke, or tell how it ripened into the
scepticism of Berkeley, and afterwards into the more thorough




MORELL S MODERN PHILOSOPHY.             455
and consistent scepticism of David Hume. Nor need we to dwell
long on the " common sense" philosophy, distinctive of the Scottish school, and first constructed by Dr. Reid for the overthrow
of that scepticism.  Yet as our argument mainly turns on a comparison between his system and that of Kant, and this in order to
a precise reckoning of the additions made by the latter to the
former, as well as of the divergencies between them-we must
bestow a few sentences at least upon our own countryman, ere
we venture our account of him who might well be styled the
great Coryphaeus of German transcendentalism.
The main principles of Dr. Reid's philosophy are shortly as
follows:-The first to be singled out is his doctrine of immediate
perception, in virtue of which we have the instant belief of' an
external reality, without the intervention of any image or any
process between the percipient mind and the object that is perceived. This is a primary fact in the human constitution, of
which we have the absolute assurance that so it is, although no
account can be given of how it is. As being a first principle, he
insists that no such account should be required of it; and that'" it
is not easy to say whether the authority of first principles is more
hurt by the attempt to prove, or the attempt to overturn them:
for such principles can stand secure only upon their own bottom;
and to place them upon any other foundation than that of their
intrinsic evidence, is in effect to overturn them." Or to take Ca
sentence from Mr. Morell. " there is an absurdity in the very
endeavor to prove a primary belief, which no reasoning on one
side or the other can in any degree alter, much less overturn."
There can be no doubt whatever that Dr. Reid's view of perception is just what we have stated,-though here and there in his
writings there do occur expressions which are fitted to cast a
certain obscuration over it. For example, we agree with our
author in regretting that he should have called perception an act
of the mind. It is no more an act of the mind than the sight of
any visible thing before me is an act of the eye.  Looking may
be an act, but perceiving is not-for in the perception which
comes by looking the mind is altogether passive-the result being
an irresistible conviction of the existence of that which is perceived. Again, sensation is conjoined with perception; -and as it
was the confounding of these two which gave rise to all the scepticism that he labored to overthrow, the greatest and most
strenuous effort of his philosophy is to discriminate between
them. But then he should scarcely have said that sensation is the
sign and perception of the thing signified-as if, in the business
of perception, the mind had first to interpret the sign aright, and
afterwards proceed to the thing signified. The mind does not
look back upon itself ere it looks out on visible things; but
instanter and at once it holds converse with these through the
organs of sense; and what our author so well calls "6 the imnzedi



456              MORELL S MODERN PHILOSOPHY.
atecy of our knowledge of the external world" is the unavoidable
result of it.
Now, it is fiom our desire to keep this process clear and unencumbered, and because we would preserve for it all its own
undoubted simplicity, that we demur to the proposed substitution
of Mr. Morell, when, for Dr. Reid's account of perception, that
it is altogether an act of the mind, he affirms that the very
essence of perception consists in the felt relation between mind
and matter.  Now, there can be no relation felt between mind
and matter at the time when the mind is not in thought. And
what we affirm is, that matter might be perceived, and with the
strongest sense and conviction in the mind of its reality, when the
mind itself is altogether out of the reckoning, or when no reflex
view is taken of mind at all.  In childhood, when most assuredly
there is the strongest possible conviction of the reality of external
things, there is then a direct view taken of objects, and nothing
more.  The mind does not take cognizance, or any reflex view at
all of itself. Even Fichte, or Morell for him, can tell us that
6; the mind, however, is at first unconcious of its real movements;
it is entirely sunk in its own involuntary representations, as
though they were external objects; its whole being is altogether
of the spontaneous* kind; it is yet only potentially that, which it
may afterwards by reflection become actually."-(Morell, ii., 81.)
Such, then, is the state of perception and belief in childhood. It
is perception alone, and without reflection, which has all to do
with it. Our views, then, are wholly objective; and surely Mr.
AMorell will not affirm that the ground on which in childhood we
believe the reality of external things is not the very ground on
which we believe the same in manhood.  Surely there is not one
ground for this belief in childhood, and another ground for it in
manhood.  Now, it would clear off many perplexities from  this
argument were it once admitted, that in the business of perception the mind's regards are altogether objective.  It is not more
necessary to be conscious of the mind in the business of perceiving, than to be conscious of the eye in the business of seeing; or
the consciousness of mind is as little an ingredient of perception
as the consciousness of the eye is an ingredient of sight.  Doubtless, the mind itself is indispensable to perception, just as it is to
all its other functions; but it follows not that our knowledge of
the mind, or any reflex view of it, is therefore indispensable.
We can perceive without thinking of the mind, as we can see
without thinking of the eye.  There lies a subtle misunderstanding in that we confound tile mind itself with our thought or our
* The reader is requested to bear in mind this admission of the German philosopher,
that there is a period of our mental history anterior to reflection or to the cognizance
which the mind takes of its own operations, when nevertheless it has the strongest possible faith in the objective reality of sensible things; as on this undoubted truth a most
important conclusion will be found to depend.




MORELL S MODERN PHILOSOPHY.            45.
knowledge of the mind; and the consequence has been, that undue
mixing up of the subjective with the objective in which chiefly it
is that the erratic movements of the German philosophy have
taken rise.
But notwithstanding this preliminary difference between our
author and ourselves, we feel quite sure he will agree with us, in
that whatever be the inaccuracies of language into which Dr.
Reid may have fallen, we have not overstated his real principle
and meaning in regard to the perfect simplicity and immediateness of that one step, and only one, by which, through our organs
of sense, we come at our belief in the reality of external things.
But this is only one part of hIs " common sense" philosophy. It
recognizes other original principles in the constitution of the
mind besides the one now specified, and by which we believe in
the reality of things sensible. There are other things besides
these, for example things necessary and immutable, of which he
says that "although not immediate objects of perception, they
may be immediate objects of other powers of the mind." He
further says, "that it were impossible to derive some of our most
important ideas from sensation and reflection, as Mr. Locke has
defined them;" and that by our understanding, that is by our
judging and reasoning powers, we are furnished with many
simple and original notions. Again, that we have other ideas
than those of sensation or reflection, in the confined sense which
Mr. Locke ascribes to it, which other ideas are present to the
mind when it defines, when it distinguishes, when it judges, when
it reasons, whether about things material or intellectual; and
that by these powers our minds are firnished, not only with
many simple and original notions, but with all our notions which
are accurate and well defined, and which alone are the proper
materials of reasoning —none of these being notions of the objects
of sense, or notions of the operations of our own minds; in other
words, they are furnished to the mind in another way than by
faculties of external or internal observation.  He did not share in
the error of Dr. Ferguson, that human knowledge is confined
entirely to the observation of facts, and to the deduction from
these of general rules; but denied that experience or observation
is the only source from which truth can be derived, and pointed
out the existence of certain intellectual and necessary judgments
beyond the bounds of all experience. We might here state some
of the ideas which do not come to us through the medium of sensation-as the ideas of space, of time, of casualty, of personal
identity, of substance, of good and evil-to which last or moral
ideas, we should add those ideas of quantity and number which
form the materials of all abstract mathematical reasoning. These
ideas do not take their origin in the observational faculties,
neither are our notions or beliefs regarding them derived from
experience




458             MORELL IS MODERN PHILOSOPHY.
Now, for comparing the Scottish and German philosophies
whether as it respects their similarities or their differences, it is
of importance to mark how fitr these primary beliefs of Dr. Reid
are at one with the primitive judgments of Kant, or with his
forms of the understanding.  They may have been better named
by the latter of these two philosophers-he may have probed
mrrore deeply into their foundations, or rather, perhaps, into their
methods of'development —he may have constructed a fuller and
more accurate list of them; and without pronouncing on his
scheme for their application, or by which he would bring his categories to bear on the objects of the external world, it might be
fully conceded, that altogether he has enlarged, and in some
respects amended, the philosophy of Dr. Reid. Yet let us not,
because of the altered nomenclature or the new garb that has
been thrown over them, let us not overlook the substantial identity, and that in the most important respect of all, between the
principles of the Scottish school, and those from which Kant has
earned his chief reputation.  The great step, in fact, for our
deliverance from the sensationalism of Locke. and the consequent
scepticism of Berkeley and Hume, was first taken in this country
-and this by the establishment of the doctrine, that the senses
were not the only inlets of our knowledge; but that there
were other and higher principles of belief bound up with the
interior conditions and structure of the mind itself; and existing
apart from or anterior to all experience, although it may have
been experience which at first evolved them. It forms a main
peculiarity of Dr. Reid's system, that the intellect has notions
and beliefs from within itself and not derived from converse with
the outer world; although in coming forth to hold such converse,
it may, in virtue of these its inherent principles and powers, be
enabled to arrange and systemize, and to apprehend many relations not cognizable by the senses, and yet between objects which
are presented by the senses to its contemplation.  On this subject
we can perceive no originality in Kant, and this notwithstanding
the distinction which he makes between the matter of our
kinowledge and the form of it-the one supplied to us by the sensitive faculty, and the other by the understanding. It is true that
he did make a wide and most important deviation, but such a
deviation as led the speculative world back again to that abyss
of scepticism from which Reid had delivered the previous generation. Had Kant kept closer by the Scottish philosophy, or made
a further extension of its principles, it would have prevented all
that is sceptical or pyrrhonic in those numerous systems of Germany, to which his own philosophy has given birth.
And here we must be permitted to make use of Dr. Reid's own
homely, though it may be not very academic phraseology, and
scarcely recognized nowadays as the language of men of science.
It did the required service, notwithstanding; and what was of




MORELL'S MODERN PHILOSOPHY.             45'9
avail then against the pyrrhonism of Britain, should, in our humble
estimation, be of like avail now against the pyrrhonism of Germany.
In the impression made by external objects upon the mind, he
distinguished two things-the sensation and the perception, by
which latter faculty it is that we have an immediate and irresistible
conviction of the reality of these objects.  And, in proceeding to
the other fundamental laws of human belief, which are tantamount
to the primitive judgments of Kant, he also distinguished between
two thincgs, the notion and the belief. Had these judgments beet
but notions, and nothing else, then would he have dealt with themi
just as he did with the mere sensations, viewed them  but as
mental phenomena, and looked no further. But if, besides beinog
notions, they are also beliefs, then, though when regarded only
as acts of belief, they are but mental phenomena, and nothing'
more, yet, as every belief' implies an object, a something that is
believed-he carried forward his contemplation to these objects,
and under that law of belief which he himself promulgated, he
could not do otherwise than treat them  as realities.  And most
assuredly, in thus treating them, he did no more than what all
men from the beginning of the world had done before him. Dr.
Reid may have been the first to proclaim the law; but most
assuredly he did not make it, nor did his proclamation of it tend
at all to its enforcement, or add in the least to its practical authority-for this law of man's primary beliefs is as old as the species,
and has been most faithfully and implicitly acted upon throughout
all its generations.  Kant, on the other hand, thou-gh he calls
them judgments, yet treats them  but as notions-for, judgments
though they be, the things judged of are no things at all, or but
mere nothings in his estimation. As mere noumena, the mind is
their only domicile; and certainly if they were but notions or
conceptions, we should, in studying or holding converse with
them, keep within the mind as their proper and only home. But
as they are beliefs, we must be permitted to go in quest of the
things that are believed; and then with some of them, at least,
we shall find ourselves carried forth from the subjective region
of the noumena within to the objective region of the phenomena
around us. The beliefs have their occupancy in the former; but
the things believed have their occup;ncy, their locum standi,
their verification and their being in the latter of these two
regions.
It is difficult in few words to make the leading principle of
Kant intelligible to the reader who may not yet have studied him.
But let us attempt this as briefly as we may. He assigns two
fundamental sources for our knowledge —the senses and the understanding. By the former, we receive impressions from the phenomena of the outer world, such, perhaps, as an inferior animal
receives who may have no higher faculty than the senses alone.




460               MORELL'S MIODERN PHILOSOPHY.
By the latter we are enabled to think of these phenomena, and so
to view them in certain lights, or according to certain relations,
and hence to invest them with certain properties of which the inferior animals have no idea. In the performance of this office, it
proceeds according to certain laws termed by Kant forms of the
endzcrstanding, whence issue its own primitive judgments of the
crude material that has been futrnished by the senses; which judgments are not derived from  the experience, but are given forth
by the understanding itself in virtue of the constitution which inherently and originally belongs to it.  It is by the senses that we
receive our intuitions of outward objects.  It is by the understanding that we receive our conceptions regarding them.
But perhaps we cannot do better than present the reader with
the following extract from Kant himself:"Of these two faculties, the one is not to be preferred to the other. Without the sensational faculty (la smnsibilite) no object would be given to us;
without the understanding, none would be thought. The thoughts without
material (without matter) are void. Intuitions without conceptions are blind.
Therefore, it is altogether as necessary to make our conceptions sensible (that
is, to apply them to the objects which intuition furnishes), as it is to make our
intuitions intelligible (that is, to bring them under our conceptions). These
two powers or capacities cannot exchange their functions. The understanding
cannot seize intuitively on anything, and the senses cannot think anything. It
is only fiom their union that cognition arises. But we must not confound their
respective places, but ought, if we would abide in the truth, to distinguish
them carefully." —Critic of Pure Reason.
Now, we are quite willing to acquiesce in this distinction. Let
our senses be held as the organs by which we admit from without those phenomena that constitute the rude and unshaped material of our notions; and let the understanding be held as the seat
of the notions. or primitive judgments, as they are termed by Kant,
and which he draws out into so many categories. But we are
not willing to admit that these judgments or categories are altogether subjective, so as to have no counterpart realities in the
outer world-or that they "never can be allowed to make good
any kind of objective knowledge whatever" (Morell, i., 215)-or,
as Cousin expresses it in his account of the Kantian philosophy,
that the intuitions of sense represent objects, but that the conceptions of the understanding represent nothing. Now, it is here
where the pyrrhoism of Kant begins, and it is here that we would
take our stand against him. Without the understanding, we might
not have been able to form a notion of unity, the first of his categories. But present me with a single object, as with the sole tree
in a field, and I am just as sure of there being one tree there, and
only one, as of there being a tree at all. Or let there be four trees,
so as to exhibit a plurality-the second of his categories-and I
am just as sure of the objects being really four, though without
the understanding I never could have counted them, as the senses




MORELL S MODERN PIIILOSOPHY.             461
have made me sure of the objects themselves. Or let my attention be directed to a stone of enormous size and weight, and in
which I am led by my understanding to conceive both an accident
and a substance-the seventh of his categories-I do more than
conceive of these; I believe that outside of me there lies a body
having the objective reality of great heaviness, and of a substratum withal or a matter that sustains this property and all the
others which belong to it. Or, lastly, and to make use of his own
example, let me fall in with the body of a murdered man, then,
by his eighth category of cause and effect, the murder will instantly suggest the notion of a murderer. But it will do more than
this. It will as instantly and powerfully suggest the conviction of
a murderer; and this causality, which he would represent as having no other locale than in the mind, or as being merely a law of
human thought, we, and every man else on the face of the earth,
believe as firmly as in our own existence, to have had its locale
in the outer world,-or, in other words, that the relation of cause
and effect between these two objects, the murderer and the murdered, have had as sure place and fulfilment, not within us but
without us, on the spot where the deed was perpetrated, as the
objects themselves have.
We are told by Cousin that the great reform of mental science
in the eighteenth century, which began in Scotland, was afterwards taken up in Germany, and in the hands of Kant was
mightily extended. But the truth is, that if Kant had made a
fuller surrender of himself to our Scottish philosophy, it would
have saved him from his worst and greatest error. It is true
that, in partial concurrence with Dr. Reid, he did make surrender
of that pyrrhonism which Hume and Berkeley had before planted
in our organs of sense, these outworks, as it were, of the mental
constitution. But it was only to carry with him this pyrrhonism
entire to the citadel of the intellect, for its expulsion from whence
a new battle must be fought —a battle to which both Morell, and
even Cousin himself, give a somewhat uncertain sound. It is our
confident persuasion that the full and conclusive victory can be
effected in no other way than by calling in the aid of our common
sense philosophy, when all it will have to do is just to fight its old
battle over again. It was the assertion of the fundamental laws
of human belief which cleared away idealism from the region of
the senses, and it is only the reassertion of these that can clear it
away from the higher region of the understanding. Meanwhile,
a certain crude material of things which, though only termed phenomena, are admitted to be real, with a curious investiture of
properties and forms affirmed to be unreal —this is all which, at
the hands of the Kantian philosophy, we have for a universe.
But there is another distinction made between these two. The
sensational faculty (la sensibilitY) is viewed as altogether passive:
and this passiveness is termed its receptivity.  It receives its im



462             MORELL S MODERN PHILOSOPHY.
pressions from phenomena without; and the representations given
of these, called also intuitions, are held to be pure results of' the
manner in which it has been affected by the phenomena. Whereas
the understanding is said to be a faculty of which the development is spontaneous. The one is deemed to be a capacity, the
Other a power.  If the former be a receiver, the latter is spoken
of as a giver —" as giving form  and figure to the material furnished by sensation." (Morell, i., 208.) Now we are quite willing to admit, that, while it is only by the intuitions of sense we
come into converse with phenomena at all, we could not without
the conceptions of the understanding apprehend the relations of
the phenomena to each other. or the various forms and categories
which we attach to them.  But we insist that when looking outward on any scene of contemplation, the relations and forms suggested by things within our view are something more than objects of conception.  They are objects of belief-a belief, tile acts
of which have their standing-places in the mind, but the objects
of which have their standing-place in the scene that is before us.
The understanding is said to be a formal and regulative faculty.
But we do not go forth to form and to regulate. The forms and
regularities are previously there; and the understanding so constituted as to have the power of recognizing them, regards them
as so many objective realities.  This " truth-organ within the human soul" (Morell, ii., 508) is just as little creative and as much
receptive as are the organs of sense. It is true, that we can
direct the understanding by our power of attention, just as we
can direct the eye by our power of looking. But the view taken
by the one is as much a result firom the state of things without as
is the view impressed upon the other, and the beliefs to which it
leads stand as little in need of being verified by any logical or
philosophical deduction whatever. It is of importance to guard
and limit the expressions which the disciples and admirers of Kant
are so apt to fall into. For example, the understanding is spoken
of as being, in contradistinction to the senses, an active and constructive faculty; and the constructions that have been attempted
under this idea of it are among the worst extravagances of German speculation. The will, too, has been vested with such a
command over this constructive intellect, that in framing their
schemes of universe, it might well be said of Schelling and others
-that they construct at pleasure. And even those of them who
are not disposed to take any flight beyond the actual stable objective universe in which they find themselves, will still speak of it,
not as being a goodly and well-ordered system in itself, but rather
as a chaos of shapeless and crude phenomena, without form
and void, which the senses, these organs of the outer man, have
gathered from this rude and primitive outfield and got within their
hold —thence to be taken up as raw material into the manufactory
of the intellect, by whose powers and primitive judgments it is




MORELL'S MODERN PHILOSOPHY.             463
that they are put in order and elaborated into a sort of painting
or panorama, or phantasmagoria of their own making.
But returning to Kant, as being a disciple at first of the Leibnitzian-Wolfian school of philosophy, it is to be expected of his
own philosophy that we might there discern the traces of his descent from his old and illustrious master. Every one knows the
celebrated aphorism cited by Locke in a letter to Leibnitz," Nihil est in intellectu quod non prius in sensu:" and of the no
less celebrated addition which Leibnitz made to it, when, in his
reply to the English philosopher, he returned it in this extended
form,-" Nihil est in intellectu quod non prius in sensu, nisi intellectus ips."  There is much truth in the saying of Madame de
Stael —" From this principle is derived all that new philosophy
which exercises so much influence over the mind of Germany."
But the question is, have they made a legitimate derivation
from it?
What is true of the intellect being in the intellect, must be also
true of all its contents. Let us grant that the primitive judgments
of Kant form part of these contents; and our former question
recurs, whether are these judgments but conceptions, or are they
beliefs? It were a false psychology which should give a wrong
deliverance upon this question. If they are really beliefs, and
yet are proceeded with as if they were only conceptions, this
were a misunderstanding of the actual state of our mental phenomena. If but conceptions, then are they wholly subjective,
nor can we find any valid outlet from these to things objective,
or to an objective world.  But if they are beliefs, then when
viewed only as acts of belief are they subjective also. But the
question remains —if beliefs, what are the objects of belief; what
are the things believed?  And should these things be external to
the mind, or apart from the mind —then is there thus and at once
opened up a ready channel from the subjective to the objective;
and on this consideration alone should we contend for the objective reality of unity, and plurality, and causation, and substance,
nay, even of space and time-all of which things Kant has doomed
to perpetual imprisonment within the chambers of the human
intellect. The consideration now stated may be repudiated as
too plain, and all the more so, that it is couched in the homely
and common-sense phraseology of Dr. Reid. Nevertheless, it
is the very consideration on which the scepticism of his day was
put to flight, and the reality of an external world was again admitted into the creed of philosophers; and as it was of avail then
in making valid the testimony of the senses, it should be of equal
avail now in making valid the testimony of the intellect. There
seems no alternative between the admission of both and the rejection of both; and if space, and time, and causation, and substance, and number, and the relations of quantity, merely because
taken cognizance of by the mind in another way, are to be de



464             MORELL S MODERN PHILoSOPHY.
prived of all objective reality, then we see not how the outward
phenomena should be permitted to retain theirs; or how a greater
deference should be rendered to the voice of the senses than to
the voice of the higher faculties. It does seem a marvellous inconsistency on the part of Kant, that he should thus have admitted
a counterpart reality over against the impressions made upon the
senses, and allowed of no such counterpart to the conceptions of
the understanding. Had these been conceptions alone, we could
have understood and have agreed with him; but ranking, as they
do, among our original and indestructible beliefs, we cannot but
charge him with a scepticism in every way as inveterate as has
ever been exemplified in the history of human speculation. We
might as well have the old and entire scepticism of David Hume
back again-for certain it is that by some such grievous mismanagement in his demonstration as Cuvier has charged him with,
has Kant both sanctioned and given rise to the worst excesses of
those who followed in his train.
But even Fichte himself, among the first and most distinguished
of these followers, will bear us out, in the principle at least of
what we are contending for, even that there can be no belief
without an object. In the transition which he made from his first
to his second philosophy, the following is stated to have been the
process of thought by which he arrived at it:
", Allow that our free activity represents certain notions to itself, there must
be, thought Fichte, something which is represented. Mere knowing can be
nothing, unless there is something which is known; mere thinking can be
nothing, unless there is something which is thought; and mere perception can
be nothing, unless there is something which is perceived. To make our subjective activity in the act of knowing, perceiving, &c., the absolute, is to suppose that the only reality in the universe is a perceiving which perceives
nothing, a thinking which thinks nothing, a knowing which knows nothing."Vol. ii., p. 93.
After this we might well admit the principle of Leibnitz, that
the intellect itself, with all its contents of course, is in the intellect.
But if there are beliefs there, and the objects of these beliefs be
things out of the intellect, it is surely competent for us to entertain these things; and, in obedience to our own mental constitution, whose prompt and powerful biddings should be heard, nay,
and will be heard above all the voices of all the philosophers, it
is alike competent for us to believe them. Let us then go forth
of the intellect, and hold our believing converse with the things
outside, which Nature thus tells us to be so many realities. The
transition from the subjective to the objective, is by a way open
to all men, notwithstanding the manifold attempts of speculators
to obstruct and to darken it.
But on this subject we have met with nothing more satisfactory
than the following pregnant sentences from M. Cousin, when defending himself against the attacks of Schelling, who is disdainful




MORELL S MODERN PIrILOSOPIir             465
of psychology, and affirms that it cannot conduct to the knowledge of real objects or to existences, for that this were stepping
beyond its only province, the province of consciousness, and all
which is in the consciousness is purely subjective. Cousin, on the
other hand, holds that there is a faculty within us, by which we
take direct knowledge of truth, and not only of necessary and
universal principles, but of real objects and existences; and, like
other continental writers, he denominated this the faculty of reason.
Let us acquiesce for the time being in this phraseology, and we
shall understand the force of the questions which he puts to Schelling in the introduction to his History of Moral Philosophy: "Is
this faculty of reason less legitimate because it fills under the eye
of consciousness? And who has demonstrated that consciousness not only looks upon that which it sees, but has the astonishing property of metamorphosing it by this its magical look, and
so as to impose upon it its own nature "  Again, " Reason is not
struck with impotency because it acts under the eye of consciousness. It does not for that change its nature.  It does not lose
the divine force which is in it, and the wings which have been
given to it to attain to [the knowledge of] beings, and so rise
even to Him from whom it emanates. Consciousness attests this
magnificent development of reason-it does not, however, make
the development, nor does it belong to it to alter the character
thereof:" We do hope that our reader enters into these replies.
Consciousness might depone to the fiact, that there are certain
knowing faculties in the mind; but it does not, therefore, usurp
the office of these faculties, which surely, on the other hand, do
not lose the power of doing their own work merely because consciousness is looking on, or has set his eyes upon them. Or, turning back to the plain language of Dr. Reid, consciousness tells us
of certain beliefs in the mind. But if we will only distinguish,
like our own common-sense philosopher, between the acts of belief, and the objects of belief; we should be at no loss to understand
what it is that consciousness does in this matter, and what it is that
is done by our other faculties. The act of belief is a subjective
thing; and it is for the consciousness to take cognizance thereof, as
this is the faculty which has to do with things subjective. The object of belief or thing believed may be out of the mind, and therefore an objective thing-and so taken cognizance of not directly by
the consciousness, but left to be taken cognizance of by its own
distinct and proper faculty. Consciousness is itself a knowing faculty, and its office is to tell us what is in the mind; and therefore
what the other knowing faculties of the mind are. But it deals
not with the objects of these faculties-fbr then would the censure of M. Schelling hold good, that it was stepping beyond its
province.  It therefore deals not with the object of' these other
faculties, but leaves the charge and cognizance of them respectively to the faculties themselves.  We humbly think that had
59




466               MORELL' S MODERN PHILOSOPHY.
Morell, and even Cousin himself at all times kept this distinction
in view, it would have saved certain misapprehensions or misstatements into which both of them have fallen. The above extracts, however, from Cousin, give the clearest possible view of
the distinct provinces of consciousness and reason; or, speaking
more generally, of' the distinction that obtains between the reflex
view  which consciousness takes of the faculties, and the direct
working of the faculties themselves.
After this we do not see where the difficulty lies of a transition
from the subjective to the objective, or how it is that either Cousin
or Morell should make such a work about it.  If consciousness
depone to a certain primary and original belief, what more have
we to do than to give ourselves up to it, and follow its guidance
over that outer domain or department of truth which belongs to
it? Or if consciousness depone to the existence and the workings of a certain faculty-call it reason or perception-what more
have we to do than just to learn of that faculty the informations
which it gives? —authoritative informations they of course will
be. and such as should carry the belief of the whole human race
along with them, seeing that they are dictated by the resistless
and fundamental laws of the human understanding. Once that
the way is opened up between a sound psychology and a sound
ontology, or rather between psychology and all the objective
sciences, let us walk on that way with confident footstep, and not
still be groping for it —not still be lying at the foundation, instead
of going on unto perfection. But one or two extracts from Morell
must be presented to the reader ere the conclusion can be fully
made out that we want to impress upon him.
In his Critique on James Mill, one of the ablest in the work, we
have the following important passage:-,, Now we believe that a thorough analysis of the case shows, that reason
has as much right to assure us of the nature and existence of being or substance,
as perception has to assure us of the phenomena that we term qualities; that
just in the same manner as we have an inward intuition of the one by the
senses, so we have an inward intuition of the other by the reason. The cognizance of attributes by perception is as much a subjective process, as much a part
of my inward consciousness, as is the cognizance of matter or substance by
the reason; and if we deny the validity of the latter, there is no superior evidence why we should accept that of the former. As well may we, in fact,
reject the quality itself as an objective phenomenon, as the substratum in which
it adheres. We know the properties of the external world, says our author,
because we have sensations which convey them. But what are sensations
except states of mind? If a state of mind termed sensation can give us the
knowledge of properties, why may not a state of mind termed intuition or reason give us the knowledge of substance? Reason has as much right to take us
out of ourselves as perception, and if the one cannot assert objective validity,
neither can the other. There is no valid medium, therefore, as it seems to us,
between complete subjective idealism, like that of Fichte, on the one side, and
the admission of ontology as a proper branch of scientific investigation on the
other."-Vol. i., p. 328.




MORELL' S MODERN PHILOSOPHY.                  467
The sentence marked by curselves in italics forms with us an
all-sufficient, and indeed the (nly refiutation against the scepticism
of Kant and his followers.  It is identical with the refutation of
Dr. Reid against the scepticism of David Huine, and by which he
vindicated, not the objective reality alone of sensible things, taken
cognizance of by the faculty of perception, but of things intellectual, which are taken cognizance of by other and higher faculties.
It is true that Reid had not learned to refer these latter judgments
to the one faculty of reason, as Kant and Cousin do. But practically there is a full agreement between him and the latter of
these two philosophers -although the former of' them, in differing
from Reid, and because misled by his own exclusive tendencies
to the subjective, fell into a sad aberration, to the grievous and
irreparable damage both of his own philosophy and that of those
who succeeded him. The reader will not fail to observe, that
while, in the above extract from Morell, he assigns to perception,
as distinct from reason, the office of assuring us of the reality of
phenomena, it would appear, from our brief extracts of Cousin,
that with him it is the office of reason to assure us of all reality
whatever. This, to the vast majority of British readers, is an
unwonted application of the term, nor would they at once understand by "reason" any other than the faculty of reasoning.  But
reason, by the new classification or new nomenclature, is now
understood to be the faculty of a direct and immediate apperception of existences, whether it be of our own existence, or that of
things apart from  ourselves.   Reason, therefore, differs from
reasoning or " la raison" from " le raisonnement."
But ere we proceed further, we must present another extract
from Dr. Morell, taken from his estimate of Dr. Reid:" We cannot but regard it, however, as unfortunate, that Reid should have
framed his idea of mental philosophy so completely upon the model of the
natural sciences, that he should have determined to confine it within the narrow
limits of psychology, and attempt nothing beyond the mere classification of
phenomena. The psychological method, which he followed, we regard as ex —
cellent, nay, as the only true one, since it is absolutely necessary to determine
the power and validity of the instrument by which all our knowledge is acquired, before we define what that knowledge is, and to what extent it can
reach. But is it necessary to pause, when we have classified the various
mental phenomena which every day's experience gives us, and altogether interdict any further advancement?  True it is, that we are able to perceive
nothing beyond phenomena, but are we on that account to neglect the deductions
of reason, the loftiest of our faculties, when it would lead into the region of existence itself?  Whether we will or not, we must allow some ontological conclusions, inasmuch as we cannot conceive of the attributes either of matter or
mind, without the notion of a substance in which they adhere. As far as experience goes, it would be quite sufficient to call a material object a cluster of
qualities, or to denominate mind a combination of powers, but reason does not
allow us to stop until we have added a substratum to which both qualities and
powers belong. If all the pure and legitimate deductions of our reason are included in the idea of psychology, we are content to confine philosophy within
its limits; but if not, then we contend for a science of ontology, that has for its




468              AIORiELL'S MODERN PHILOSOPHY.
matter all that belongs to the essence of man, of the universe, and of God,
viewing them as objective realities, whose existence we never could assume
f'rom the mere observation of phenomena, could never deduce by logical processes, but which we draw as the necessary conclusions of our higher reason.
In this way we should be led into a loftier region of thought, to a kind of prima
philosophia, where the sciences of mind, of matter, and of Deity, all unite in
one."-Vol. i., pp. 239, 240.
The charge which he here prefers against the Scottish school,
and which both Kant and Cousin had made before him. is
repeated in various other passages, as, when speaking of those
who follow the psychological method, he says that " they give us,
for the most part, a valid philosophy, but too often a shallow
one."  Again-" Scotland, true to its principles of'common
sense,' has insisted on the validity of those ideas which appear to
be the natural product of the human reason, and resisted every
attempt to resolve them into sensational elements; and Germany,
boldly grappling with the deepest questions of ontology, has
drawn a broad distinction between the phenomenal world, as
viewed by the senses, and the real world, as comprehended by
the intellect."  Lastly-" The English and Scottish writers generally interdict the ontological branch of philosophy, as lying
beyond the reach of our faculties. Intellectual science with them
is confined, for the most part, to psychology, that is, to the analysis and classification of our mental phenomena."  We beg that
our readers will re-peruse both the paragraphs and the sentences
that we have now taken fiom Morell, that they might better
understand wherein it is that we agree, and wherein we differ
with him, and not with him only, but with the continental philosophy in general, as contrasted with our own.
First, then, we most cordially unite with Mr. Morell in affirming the as great objective reality of those things which the reason
takes cognizance of:. as of those which are taken cognizance of
by the senses. Let us take but one instance —the moon and the
high water, both of which we do see. We believe in the objective reality of both these phenomena  but we believe, also, in the
objective reality of that vinculum which we do not see, and which
binds them together in the relation of cause and effect. We have
read nothing more masterly or decisive than the utter overthrow
by Cousin of the sceptical metaphysics of Kant.
But, secondly, we do not agree with Mr. Morell in the censure
which he passes on the Scottish philosophers of mind, because
that, after having demonstrated the objective reality of certain
things that came under its judgment, they did not go out upon
these things, in order to philosophize on their nature and properties.
Would he have had them, for example, after having vindicated
the reality of a sensible and external world, would he have had
them to enter on the respective walks of investigation whereof it
is the theatre —on chemistry, or natural history, or natural philoso



MORELL S MODERN PHILOSOPIIY.            469
phy? Their own proper science makes no such requisitions as
these, and as little does it call for a science of ontology at their
hands. The study of the knowing faculties is altogether distinct
from the study of the things to be known by them; and to complain of the mental philosopher because he has not gone forth
beyond the limits of his own domain, is just as irrational as to
complain of him who has constructed a telescope, that he has not
also constructed a treatise on astronomy. Our complaint of the
Scottish savans and professors is exactly the reverse of that which
our author has preferred against themn-even that they mix up too
much of psychology with the treatment of their respective
sciences. We will not even exempt the chairs of logic and ethics,
as generally conducted, from  this condemnation: for however
cognate these sciences might be reckoned to the science of mind,
it is one thing to tell what be its phenomena and laws. and another
to tell what be the principles and methods, whether of good
reasoning or good morals. It is not that we undervalue mental
sience. So far from this, we would assign for it a separate chair,
where might be expounded the principles and processes of the
human mind, and, amongst these, the fundamental laws of human
belief-to which laws the other professors might refer when
thrown back upon them at such times as scepticism might choose to
question the first principles of any of their sciences. When the
informations of the telescope are questioned, we are necessitated
to explain the properties and vindicate the power of the instrument-after which we look not to the telescope, but throutgh it
and froim it to the planets; and then we should never think of'
mixing up any demonstration of the eve and object glasses of the
telescope with our demonstration of the satellites and rings of
Saturn. We, to this extent, keep the two subjects, or the two
sciences of optics and astronomy, clear of each other; and it had
been well if. to the same extent, the mental psychology had been
kept clear of all those studies which, as directed to objects distinct
from the mind, might be classed under the general appellation of the
objective sciences. We as little think of the mind when engaged
in the prosecution of any of these sciences, as the astronomer
thinks of his telescope when looking through it on the phenomena
of the heavens. The Scottish philosophers did well in confining
themselves to their own proper and self'prescribed task, the
description or demonstration of the human mind; and in stopping
where they did, they evince a more enlightened discernment than
our author, of the limits and landmarks which separate the various
provinces in the territory of human thought.
But Mr. Morell has no quarrel with them because they did not
go forth upon any of the domains of physical science. His
charge against them is that they did not go forth on the science
of ontology. Now if they were right in refraining from  the
former, we hold them pre-eminently right in not venturing one




470              MORELL'S MODERN PHILOSOPHY.
footstep upon the latter. We feel equally sure as our author of
the existence of a substratum for both mind and matter, and by
which their respective phenomena are sustained; but when he
tells us of his as great certainty as to the nature of it, then we must
frankly avow, that we have no more faith in an ontology
grounded upon such a basis, than we have in the ontology, altogether monstrous though it be, of Schelling, whose intellectual
intuition into the mysteries of being is just as worthy of our confidence, as is the reason of Kant, when coupled with the illegitimate extension to which it has been carried hy his followers.
But this review is lengthening on our hands. We are not getting fast enough on in this fragmental way of it.  Our prescribed
limits make it imperative that we should dwell no longer on the
separate portions of the work before us.  We must therefore
proceed instanter to the summing up-to the judgment, leaving
the grounds of the judgment to be gathered by the readers of
these volumes. At this rate we must omit for the present most
of what we at first contemplated, in the hope, however, of other
opportunities.  Meanwhile let us limit ourselves to such generalizations as shall best enable us, in briefest space, to pronounce
between our own home philosophy and that of the continent.
In what remains then, and before our final reckoning with Mr.
Morell himself, we shall have chiefly to deal with the French
philosopher Cousin, whom indeed Mr. Morell may be said to have
constituted the arbiter amongst the various systems and speculations which are made to pass before us in his historical review.
He could not have fixed on an abler or more accomplished critic
of all bygone philosophy  in modern times.  Warm  from  our
admiration of that masterly analysis by which, in his sixth lesson
on the philosophy of Kant, he lays bare the turning-point on
which this great thinker descends into the abyss of scepticism, and
also of his eloquent advocacy for the prerogatives of common
sense. even as interpreted and acted on by the humblest of our
species* —we feel it difficult to speak with all that freedom
which still his own errors, as they appear to us, would require
and justify.  But to this we are encouraged by his noble declaration, when to vindicate his treatment of Kant, he tells us that he
shall ever prefer common sense to genius, and the general mind,
or mind of the whole world, to that of any man whatever.
Cousin, then, founder of the eclectic school in France, fully
admits-nay, in his strictures on Kant, argues with the utmost
ability and address, the distinction between what he terms the
spontaneous and the reflex exercises of the human understanding.
* See his " Legons sur la Philosophie de Kant, 1844."-P. 150. This work is the
fittest bridgeway of communication that we happen to know, for an ordinary British
reader, to all which might heretofore have seemed obscure and inaccessible to his eyes in
the transcendentalism of Germany-clearing up in it all that is unintelligible, and thereby disarming it of all that is formidable-for even in the walks of high Philosophy, as
well as of superstition, will it often be found that ignorance is the mother of devotion.




MORELL S MODERN PHILOSOPHY.              471
We have long been in the habit of recognizing these under the
title of the mind's direct and reflect processes, and we shall continue so to name them. Now as Fichte affirms in a previous
extract, and as Cousin repeatedly affirms in the best and ablest
of his passages, the direct is anterior to the reflex. In other
words, the mind's first and earliest converse is not with itself, but
with things exterior to and apart from itself. Such is the order
of nature, that invariably, in nature's education of all spirits, the
objective precedes the subjective. During the first years of its
tuition in the school of nature, the life of the mind may be said to
be a life of objectivity all over. It is wholly taken up with outward things; and it is when thus engaged, that almost all its
primary beliefs are formed-its belief in the reality of space and
time-its belief in the reality of sensible objects, and not only
of material phenomena, but of the material substratum which
upholds them-its belief in those likenesses, whether among objects or events, by which it is afterwards enabled to generalize
them either into the classes of natural history or the laws
of natural philosophy; and, to add no more, its belief in that pervading causality which binds together every event in nature with
something prior that went before, with something posterior which
comes after it. These beliefs are felt and familiar beliefs-are
the universal inmates of every bosom; and took up their firm
occupancy there, while the mind was exclusively employed in
looking forth of itself among outward things, and long before it
cast any inward regard on its own contents or its own processes.
Let it not be imagined, fiom our representation of the matter,
or from the view that we are now giving of the state of the case,
let it not be imagined that we are lapsing into the sensationalism
of Locke, or setting aside the primitive judgments of Kant. The
child who has struck the table with its spoon, and elicited a noise,
and then strikes again with a firm expectation of the same noise,
is the subject alike of the sensation spoken of by the one philosopher, and of the judgment spoken of by the other. It has the
experience of both; and in connection with the first, or with the
sensation, it believes in the reality of the spoon and of the table,
and also of the noise; while, in virtue of the second. or of the
judgment, it as firmly believes. that when it makes the like stroke
as before, a like noise will ensue from it. In other words, it
assigns the same outward and objective reality to the causation
that it does to the visible objects, whether of sight or of hearing,
wherewith it is occupied. And why is it that Kant should assign
these things differently? How comes he to believe in the reality
of those phenomena which his senses tell him of, and not also to
believe in the objective reality of that causation which binds them
together, and which his judgment tells him of? Is it because the
one is further in than the other-the organs of these primitive
judgments of his, than the organs of sight or hearing —is it




472             MORnELL S MODERN PHILOSOPHY.
because of this, that he takes the report of the senses on things
without while he rejects all the informations of the understanding
or the reason, save only on things subjective and ideal, and
wholly within the mind.  This is too ridiculous.  Both are alike
receptive of truth from  without.  Nature strongly teaches the
same confident reliance on the testimony of the sentinels at the
gate. and on that of the informants who fill the station of waiters
in the inner chambers of the mind. And this appeal to the
original and imprescriptible beliefs of humanity forms our great,
indeed our only, defence against the scepticism of Berkeley, or
Hurne, or Kant, or in whatever form, at the hands of other
philosophers, or other fashions of philosophy, it may afterwards
asslume.
Now. it is on the strength of these very considerations, or the
authority of our direct and primary judgments, and these given
forth anterior to any reflex view that we take of them, that Cousin
argues, with the most consummate ability and address, against
the scepticism of Kant, when he denies the objective reality of
space and time, and of his various categories of the understanding. But there is still another consideration wllich, with all deference to his fine intelligence, we should like him to ponder well
and to apply, and for which we crave a close attention fromi our
readers. This priority of the direct to the reflex holds true, not
only in respect to the different stages of human life-the childhood and youth of the understanding being chiefly taken up with
things of objective contemplation, and not being till its manhood,
when the faculty of consciousness is fully developed, that it can
best take account of its own processes. But, over and above
this, it were better for the mental analyst, even to his latest days,
if, ere he entered on those reflex processes by which he is led to
his various doctrines, and it may be discoveries, he were beforehand and frequently to describe (parcourir) or run over the
direct processes which correspond to them. The truth is, that
though it be only by looking inwardly, or looking back upon ourselves, that we take cognizance of our various beliefs, these
beliefs must be formed, so as to exist, ere they can be recognized
or reflected on. But on what ground is it that they are formed?
or how is the mind employed when these beliefs arise in it?  Not,
most certainly, in looking inwardly upon itself, save when it is
making a study of its own processes; for in every other science
but that of mind do the beliefs proper to them arise in the act of
looking to and dwelling upon the subject-matter of these sciences.
To get at our mathematical beliefs, we do not look inwardly to
the mind, but outwardly to the diagrams of geometry, or to
the signs, with their things signified, of the analytical calculus.
For our experimental beliefs, at least in things material, we look
outwardly and not inwardly. Even in logic, it is not by the
study of any' inscriptions on the tablet of our nature, that we




MORELL S MODERN PHILOSOPHIY.                  473
settle the distinctions between good and bad reasoning. And, to
add no more, in theology, although the constitution of the mind,
with its adaptation to the surrounding world, forms one of our
most illustrious evidences for a God, yet, if there be, as many
contend, a direct apperception by us of the Supreme Creator, it
were in the act of looking upwardly and objectively to Himself
that we should seize upon it. and not by going in quest of it
among the recesses of our own psychology. And yet this is the
very quarter in which Cousin tells us that he has found it.  The
following is an extract from one of Cousin's works, as given by
Morell:
"'It is by observation (he remarks), that with the penetralia of the consciousness, and at a depth to which Kant never descended, under the apparent
relativeness and subjectivity of necessary principles, I have succeeded in seizing and analyzing the instantaneous, but veritable fact of the spontaneous apperception of truth, an apperception which, not immediately reflecting itself,
passes unperceived in the depths of the consciousness; yet is the real basis of
that, which later, under a logical form, and in the hands of reflection, becomes
a necessary conception. All subjectivity and reflexivity expires in the spontaneity of apperception. But the primitive light is so pure, that it is unperceivedl: it is the reflected light which strikes us, but often in doing so, sullies
with its faithless lustre the purity of the former. Reason becomes subjective
by its connection with the free and voluntary 3/e, which is the type of all subjectivity; but in itself it is impersonal, it does not appertain any more to one
than to another, it does not even appertain to humanity as a whole, its laws
emanate only from itself.' — Vol. ii., pp. 388-9.
Now, this spontaneous apperception which Cousin sought after,
and thinks that he has seized upon, he has sought for in the place
where it is not to be found, till after it has been sensibly realized
in the act of looking outward on the object of apperception. He
looks for it, and imagines that he has got his first hold of it among
the reflections of the psychological tablet within; whereas, if to
be had at all, spontaneous as it is, it will be in the primary act of
looking direct on the radiance that cometh from the object of contemplation without.  And yet, by the same marvellous oversight,
does his too faithful and imitative disciple follow up the above
extract with this sentence:
", Such is the chief ground on which Cousin repels the latent scepticism of
a too subjective philosophy, and such the method by which he proposes to
place the lofty authority of reason, as an evidence for objective reality, upon
an immovable foundation."
This is the completest example of an intellectual cross-purpose
on the part both of Mr. Cousin and Mr. Morell that we ever happen to have met with. It is among the latencies of the subjective that they fancy to have found that evidence of an objective
reality which only beams upon us from the objects themselves. It
is the consciousness, looking inwardly, which places upon an immovable foundation the lofty authority of the reason that looks
outwardly.  What becomes of the priority of the spontaneous to
60




474             MORELL S MODERN PHILOSOPHY.
the reflective amid these strangely conflicting affirmations?
Cousin tells us of the primitive light being unperceived, while it
is the reflective light which strikes us. This is the first and only
instance we ever heard of, whether in things mental or material,
of the reflection being more powerful than the radiance.
We think it is in some of his works he tells us, that we cannot
know a thing without knowing that we know it. Even this position might well be questioned. Our knowledge of any object
must surely be anterior to our knowledge of that knowledge.
The knowledge which is proximate to the object must surely come
first, and the knowledge which is more remote from this object,
as lying behind the other, must as surely come afterwards. Ere
we know of a knowledge, that knowledge must exist, or have been
already formed; and so when our consciousness takes cognizance
of any belief regarding things apart firom the mind, that belief
must be anterior to the ccgnizance which consciousness takes of
it, and, therefore, it is a belief generated by some other faculty,
and not resting on the authority of consciousness at all. This
tallies with the real history of the human mind: for how often,
and how long in childhood and youth, and prior to the full development of our consciousness, do we know without knowing that
we know, without, at least, thinking that we know, and most certainly without ever taking account of our knowledge. But we
shall insist no longer on the erroneousness of this position, yet
cannot help remarking, that in the above extract from Cousin
there lies involved a position still more flagrantly erroneous. He,
there, in effect tells us, that we might know of our knowing, what
we do not yet know. He takes from psychology at first hand,
that information which psychology can only give at second hand.
It is the reason, by his own confession, which is the first informant;
and yet its voice is unheard, till echoed back on the ear of the
inner-man, from  the recess of the consciousness.  He has made
the primary and the secondary change places. It is his Cartesianism which, in this instance, has misled him; though it is
strange, that he who has reasoned so admirably on the distinction
between the spontaneous and the reflex, and the priority of the
former, and has brought this to bear with such felicity and force
on the scepticism of Kant, so as to achieve its entire overthrowit is strange that he should have fallen into such an error. It is
the pervading error of Morell. He, though perhaps himself unaware of it, is Cartesian all over.
It is far otherwise with the primary beliefs of Dr. Reid. These
are such, that on the moment of their being simply stated, they
are read and recognized of all men —as belief in the reality of an
external world, belief in the object of our distinct remembrance,
belief in the constancy of nature. These beliefs announce themselves to the consciousness, whereas, in the above instance, it is
Mr. Cousin's consciousness which tells him what to believe. This




MORELL'S MODERN PHILOSOPHY.              475
faculty of consciousness, doubtless, has a distinct province of its
own; but so also have the faculties of perception, and memory,
and judgment; and the beliefs of these latter faculties are just as
immediate and original as those of consciousness. It is the office
of consciousness to take cognizance of the beliefs which are fobrmed
in those provinces, distinct from its own; but it is not consciousness which forms them. These beliefs are formed and felt in the
direct exercise of the faculties themselves; and it is after this, not
surely before this, that they become the subjects of a reflex cognizance by the consciousness. Whether it be Dr. Reid's perception of an external world, or Mr. Cousin's apperception of a Deity,
these must first be felt, and then reflected on. But Mr. Cousin
reverses this process.  The first discovery he makes of his said
apperception is, in the act of searching among the recesses of his
own psychology. With him the reflex comes first, and the direct
afterwards. It speaks most inauspiciously for this apperception
of Cousin, that he has found his way to it by an utter reversal of
the right working and order of the human faculties.
And that Morell fully participates in this illusion of Cousin, nay,
to a much greater extent than the master whom he loves to honor,
is abundantly manifest throughout both his volumes, where he is
constantly mixing up consciousness, and the facts of consciousness, as if this faculty had an integral and creative part to perform in them, with those beliefs of which it is only the remembrancer and registrar.  He often forgets the wise deliverance of
Dr. Reid, that " perception commends our belief upon its own
authority," and this anterior to, and apart from consciousness, the
proper office of which faculty, is not to originate this belief, not
even to ratify it, but simply to record it. " And it were difficult,"
says Dr. Reid, "to give any reason for distrusting our other faculties, that will not reach consciousness itself."  We should have
liked, if both Mr. Cousin and Mr. Morell had proceeded more on
the views of our Scottish philosopher, in the estimate which he
makes of Des Cartes.  They would not have made his "'Cogito, ergo sum," so much the starting-point of their mental philosophy.
We might now understand, why it is that both these philosophers make such a difficulty of effecting a passage from the subjective to the objective. There was no such difficulty felt by Dr.
Reid, for he laid as immediate a hold on one as on the other, and
had, therefore, no demand for a passage betwixt them. It is true
that he described such a passage, nay, actually struck one out
with his own hands —when in the act, and for the purpose of repelling scepticism, he made his appeal from  perception to consciousness-not that the latter faculty creates the beliefs of the
former, but only depones to them. But this movement of his was
from the objective to the subjective, which, after having accomplishled, he had no difficulty in finding his way back again. Not




476             MORELL S MODERN PHILOSOPHY.
so with our two philosophers, who, not for the defence of a sound
mental philosophy, but for the primary construction of one. make
consciousness their point of departure, as Des Cartes did before
them, and are thence groping for an outlet from the subjective to
the objective —from their psychology to their ontology.  And
where do they think that they have found one?-in a lofty region
of transcendentalism9 by the stepping-stone of an alleged, but
withal a most obscure and questionable apperception,* they arrive
at the immediate view of an objective God; whence as from a
summit, and by a sort of derivative process, they propose to effectuate their descent to the other doctrines, both of Natural Theology and Mental Science. Our outlet from the subjective to the
objective is differently placed fiom theirs,-on the platform of
visible and created things, whence we make our way upward to
God, among the realities of His own stable and existent universe.
Theirs may be a more sublime, but ours, though an humbler, we
hold to be a safer movement, and bv a surer pathway.
We have long thought that it might alleviate the mysteriousness, nay, facilitate the study, of mental science, did we proceed
more on a felicitous notion of Dr. Thomas Brown-a philosopher
of whom, now that we have named him, we have only time to
say that both Cousin and Morell hold him in greatly too light estimation. He regards consciousness as but a brief act of the memory. And one does not see why we should not remember our
mental states, our emotions for example, and distinguish between
them-just as we remember our bodily feelings, so as to distinguish, for example, by memory alone, and after they have passed
away, between the pain arising from a blow, or a puncture, or a
burn, and thus also between the mental affections, such as those
of fear. or grief, or joy, or gratitude.  We are quite sure that
such a view would mitigate the notion which many have, as if acquaintance with mind were a thing hopelessly beyond the reach
of their, acquirement. It enables us to dispose of the difficulty
alleged by Mr. Hume in the way of all mental or metaphysical
inquiries —a difficulty so formidable in the eyes of M. Comte that
he founds upon it an argument against the mental philosophy as a
thing impossible or null-even that the mind cannot think of two
things at once, cannot, therefore, think at one and the same time
of an object of contemplation without, and the emotion which it
awakens within. And thus, when it turns from the object to the
subject, from that which caused the emotion to the emotion itself,
the latter, deprived of its needful aliment, even the presence of
its counterpart object, vanishes from the inner man, and so eludes
every attempt to obtain a view of it. We cease to fear when we
cease to think of that which makes us afraid, or to be angry when
we cease to think of the provocation. But though we cannot, on
* And this, too, first discovered, not in the light of its own radiance, but in its shadowy reflection among the arcana of our inner nature.




MORELL S MODERN PHILOSOPHY.                   477
this account, immediately behold the emotion, we can remember
it; and, to make this remembrance all the surer and more vivid,
the mind can quickly alternate between the object and its emotion, so as to have the acts of memory as short and frequent as
we will. This might be all the more necessary when examining
our beliefs, than when examining our emotions-seeing that our
feeling of the former is greatly more faint and languid than of the
latter; and this we conceive to be the actual procedure of our
mental analysis when they investigate the phenomena or powers
of the human understanding. There is much less than most people imagine of what is called a looking inwardly upon ourselves in
the prosecution of these studies.  Even in the philosophy of the
Absolute-that most appalling and recondite of all themes to a
merely British understanding-it is the objective which precedes
the subjective. In the controversy, for example, between Cousin
and Sir WV. Hamilton, whether the idea of the infinite be positive
or negative, the first thing which the mind does is, not to introvert
or look inwardly, but, as it were, to heave itself outwardly, on
space, or upwardly to the immense and illimitable Deity; and
then, with instant memory, to take cognizance of its own state
while thus employed. Our author, too, ventures, though with becoming diffidence, on the theme which has set these two great
thinkers at variance; and we gladly avail ourselves of the opportunity to present our readers with another very interesting specimen of his work.  All the three, wee have no doubt, looked far
more objectively than subjectively, far more outward than inward,
when making way to their respective deliverances on this crowning question of the German transcendentalism.
", Here we have three minds standing severally at the head of the respective
philosophies of Britain, France and Germany, assuming each a different hypothesis on the subject; while Kant, the Aristotle of the modern world, assumes
a fourth. Under such circumstances he must be a bold thinker, who ventures
to pronounce confidently upon the truth or error of any one of these opinions.
Few, perhaps, in our own country would be inclined to side either with Kant
or Schelling; the great point of dispute is most likely to be between Sir WV.
Hamilton and M. Cousin, that is to say, whether the infinite, the absolute, the
unconditioned, be really cognizable by the human reason, or whether it be not;
whether our notion of it be positive, or whether it be only negative. And here
we freely confess, that we are not yet prepared to combat, step by step, the
weighty arguments by which the Scottish metaphysician seeks to establish the
negative character of this great fundamental conception; neither, on the other
hand, are we prepared to admit his inference. We cannot divest our minds
of the belief, that there is something positive in the glance which the human
soul casts upon the world of eternity and infinity. Whether we rise to the
contemplation of the Absolute through the medium of the true, the beautiful,
or the good, we cannot imagine that our highest conceptions of these terminate
in darkness, in a total negation of all knowledge.  So far from this, there seem
to be flashes of light, ineffable, it may be, but still real, which envelope the
soul in a lustre all divine, when it catches glimpses of infinite truth, infinite
beauty, and infinite excellence. The mind, instead of plunging into a total
eclipse of all intellection, when it rises to this elevation, seems rather to be




478              MORELL S MODERN PHILOSOPHY.
dazzled by a too great effulgence: yet still the light is real light, although, to
any but the strongest vision, the effect may be to blind rather than to illumine.
It is not by negations that men are governed; but it is befoire the idea of eternity and infinity that our fiercest humanity is softened and subdued. Until we
are driven from this position by an irresistible evidence, we must still regard
the notion of the infinite, the absolute, the eternal, as forming one of our fundamental notions, and one which opens to us the highest field, both for our present
meditation and our future prospects."-Vol. ii. pp. 397, 398.
Now, it is precisely thus that we would test the alleged apperception of Cousin, and upon which it is that he claims for the human mind a faculty by which it can take an immediate view or
cognizance of the Deity. We should certainly not seek for it in
the place where he conceives that it was found by himself-in the
deep interior of his own psychology. In the language of Scripture, we should lift up our souls unto God; and seek not into ourselves, but seek after Him if haply we might find Him. It is thus
that we tried to accompany Schelling; and unable to see as he
saw, cast, at a very early stage, his speculation away from  us,
long before his cosmogony was so far matured, as that it could
be brought to the touch-stone of natural philosophy, and be found
by its experiments to be an illusion.  The a priori theology of
Cousin has not vet been carried forward to such an issue, and we
wait for the products of its felt or fancied inspiration. It is obvious, both of him and Morell, that, in virtue of this discovery, they
feel as if on the eve of a great coming enlargement.  Let them
try; but meanwhile, it is our own shrewd imagination, that it is
marvellously little they will make of it.
But any theological argument which our space will leave room
for, we should like to hold with Mr. Morell alone.  We cannot,
however, take leave of Mr. Cousin without rendering the homage
of our grateful admiration to one who, at this moment, holds the
balance between the two philosophies of Germany and Scotland.
It is true that in his theology he is altogether wrong, though,
judging from the general spirit and drift of his speculations, we
should say of him, that he is not unhopeful. But what has earned
for him  our peculiar esteem is his having so nobly asserted the
prerogatives of common sense against the sceptical philosophy of
Kant. In particular, his manly, and withal, most effectual defence of the reality of space and time, might well put to shame
certain of our own savans, who, in compliance with this wretched
jabber of the school at K6nigsberg, now speak of both these elements as having no valid significancy in themselves, but as being
mere products of idealism, or forms of human thought. In the
immediate successors of Kant we can easily forgive this extravagance, as Fichte, of whom we should not have expected, for one
moment, that the "common sense" philosophy would ever lead
him to give up one iota of his transcendentalism. But although
common sense was utterly powerless against it, yet upon one occasion it had nearly given way, when brought into serious conflict




MORELL S MODERN PHILOSOPHY.              479
with a not uncommon sensibility; for Fichte, as we were pleased
to find, though a metaphysician, and in the most abstract form,
so far proved himself to be a possessor of our own concrete humanity, as to fall in love. But circumstances forced him to quit
for a season the lady of his affections; and, when at the distance
of 300 miles, German miles too, he thus writes to her: —" Again
left to myself, to my solitude, to my own thoughts, my soul flies
directly to your presence.  How is this? It is but three days
since I have seen you, and I must often be absent from you for a
longer period than that.  Distance is but distance, and I am
equally separated from you in Flaach or in Zurich. But how
comes it that this absence has seemed to me longer than usual,
that my heart longs more earnestly to be with you, that I imagine
I have not seen you for a week? Have I philosophized falsely
of late about distance? Oh, that our feelings must still contradict
the firmest conclusions of our reason!"  Mr. Morell deprecates
what he calls the ignoble application of ridicule to philosophy;
yet we should not be sorry ift with the possession of such rich
materials for the exposure of that intellectual Quixotism into
which so many minds in Germany and elsewhere are now running wild, some one having the talents of Butler or Cervantes
were to arise, and banish this grotesque and outrageous folly from
the face of the earth.
Were it confined to Germany, we should have more toleration
for it. But it is now making frequent inroads within our own
borders; and we are grieved to find that Mr. Whewell expresses
himself as carried by the prestige of the German philosophy and
its outlandish nomenclature. We are not even sure if Sir John
Herschell be altogether free from it. We shall exceedingly regret
if the manly English sense of these great masters in physical science shall prove to have been in the least vitiated by this admixture from abroad. In the face of their high authority, we shall
persist in regarding the whole of the intermediate space between
ourselves and the planet Uranus as an objective reality; and when
we read of this planet " trembling along the line of their analysis,"
we shall look still further off, or still more objectively, to the space
that is beyond it, nay, and shall infer, with all confidence, that there
must be a force outside which is disturbing its movements. We
are persuaded that common sense prevailed, and their metaphysics were for a time forgotten, when in the glorious discovery of
Le Verrier, they beheld the verification both of an objective space
and an objective causality.
Altogether it is a wondrous exhibition, and proves most strikingly that high mental power is no guarantee against outrageous
error, when one looks to the very opposite effects which the contemplation of space and time had on two such minds as those
of Immanuel Kant and Dr. Samuel Clarke.  The latter not
only ascribed existence to these two elements, but an existence




480             MORELL VS MODERN PHILOSOPHY.
of a much higher character, than to the contingent and variable
objects which compose our universe-as self-existence, necessary
existence, an existence of which it was not only impossible to conceive the opposite, but of which it was impossible that the opposite could be-on which attributes it was, that he reared his famous 2 priori arguments for the being of a God. Kant, on the
other hand, while he admitted the reality in some sort of a phenomenal world, made the very intensity of our belief in space and
time his argument, not for going outward or objectively on the
things believed, but for turning inward on the subjective mind,
and viewed the fixed and ineradicable convictions which have
been planted there in no other light than as the necessary laws
or forms of human thought. Strange that in very proportion to
the strength of our belief, must the object believed be all the more
regarded as a nullity, or as having no other existence than in a
region of idealism.  No one can question the transcendent force
of intellect in Kant; but these aberrations of his remind us of the
Scripture saying-" If the light that is in thee be darkness, how
great is that darkness!"  Neither can we deny that both Kant
and Samuel Clarke are men of far more gigantic stature than our
own Dr. Reid, who, nevertheless, in virtue of his calm, and sober,
and reflective judgment, with no higher pretensions than to the
common sense which is diffused among all men, had a clearer discernment than either of them, both of the laws and limits of the
human faculties. It holds true in the things of science, as well as
the things of sacredness, that many things are hid from the wise
and the prudent, which are revealed unto babes.
Yet Kant, as if sensible of his errors, by what Cousin terms a
noble inconsistency (inconsequence) did much to repair them.
For example, he conjured up the Practical Reason, that by
means, though it must be confessed, of a clumsy and ill-assorted
apparatus, he might compensate for, or rectify the dangerous conclusions of the Pure Reason. And again, as if to caution his successors against any wild excursion into the regions of the imaginative and the ideal, do we meet with the following glorious
passage, of which we know not whether most to admire the
soundness of the lesson, or the exquisite beauty and appropriateness of the image which he employs for the enforcement of it.
It is the rebuke which he pronounces on the impatience of reason,
and the utter vanity of all its ambitious efforts, when it seeks
across the limits of observational truth, or tries to expatiate
beyond the domain of the "Quid est."  They wholly misunderstand Kant who think, because of his lofty and arduous speculations, that he undervalues the findings of man on the terra firma
of our sensible world. On the contrary, he avers with all strenuousness, that human knowledge is bounded by experience.
"The reason," he says, "T because of its reach and capacity, and misled by
the evidences which it finds of its own power, can see no limits to its passion




MORELL S MODERN PHILOSOPHY.               481
for knowledge. The buoyant dove, when, with free wing, it traverses the air
of which it feels the resistance, might imagine that it would fly still better in
the vacuum beyond; and thus Plato forgets and looks slightingly on the sensible
world, because it imposes upon his reason such narrow limitations, and so he
ventures himself on the wings of his ideas, into the empty space of the pure
understanding. He has not remarked that, in spite of his effi)rts, he makes no
progress, for he has no point of support on which to uphold him in his attempt
to bear the understanding out of its natural place. Such is the common fatality of reason, when it enters on the walk of speculation: it first raises a superstructure as quickly as it can, but is much too late ere it takes the trouble
of ascertaining whether the foundation of it be solid."-Critic of Pure Reason.
It is quite refreshing to meet with those places in Kant, where
he emerges into the daylight of common sense, and speaks just
like one of ourselves. WVhen he makes his transition from the
Pure to the Practical Reason, he gives forth a Natural Theology
most strikingly accordant in its main lessons and arguments with
those which have been delivered for years to large and successive
numbers of those youth in Scotland who are in training for the
ministry of the Gospel. And really, after reading the masterly
criticisms of Cousin upon his categories, and upon the arbitrary
lines of demarcation which he has drawn between the reason,
and the understanding, and the sensational faculty, one is tempted
to put the interrogation-What, after all, in mental philosophy,
of the useful and unquestionable, has Kant said, which Dr. Reid
did not say before him?
It had been well if Kant had kept closer by Dr. Reid, and well
too had the followers of Kant kept closer by their great master.
But, after having conducted them to the verge of idealism, he in
vain lifted his warning voice against their proceeding further,
else we should have been spared the extravagances of Fichte, and
Schelling, and Hegel. We cannot now afford the room for a
single sentence on any of their systems; but would single out
that of Schelling for one brief remark on the outrageous absurdity of the product, and yet notwithstanding, the honest enthusiasm
of admiration felt even by the highest minds for the marvellous
talent, and withal, lofty, moral, and poetical bearing of the man.
Morell speaks of him in the language of endearment; and of his
philosophical system, as that "6 by which the name of Schelling
is destined to go down the stream of time to the latest posterity."
Nothing can exceed the devout estimation in which he is held by
Coleridge; but the most remarkable homage ever rendered to
him was by the French Institute, who sat in formal judgment upon
his philosophy, and though they sanctioned the adverse deliverance of Mr. Willm, in his memoir of Schelling, yet by their
sustained attention to his Critique, and subsequent publication of
it, gave ample evidence to the redeeming qualities of a speculation which sets all common sense at defiance, and bears so
glaringly the character of utter wildness upon its forehead.
Nevertheless, it is patiently reasoned out by the memorialist, most
61




482              MORELL S MODERN PHILOSOPHY.
respectfully listened to by the most illustrious body of savans in
Europe, and at last pronounced upon in the following terms:-," This doctrine is founded, 1. Upon an illusion. For it takes the process of
ordinary generalization for an absolute law of reason; and erects the principle
at which generalization stops, into the real and essential principle of things
themselves.
1" 2. Upon a paralogism. For it confounds the order of knowledge with the
order of existence.
" 3. Upon an exaggeration. For it exaggerates the harmony which exists,
or which we naturally affirm between our intelligence and reality, by making
it an identity, and attributing to reason so absolute an authority, that everything
must be as it thinks, from the moment that it thinks it.," 4. Upon an hypothesis. For it is a gratuitous supposition to place all
truth in the reason, and thus to equal reason with God."-Vol. ii. pp. 128-129,
We refuse to admit the tabular scheme of Schelling into our
pages, but will simply refer to it as given by Morell, vol. ii. p.
106. It virtually implies that the power of thinking is tantamount
to the power of creating, and thus that man can think out a universe, down to the minutest and most complicated organisms of
the animal and vegetable kingdom.  It is the most characteristic
specimen we have met with of what the Germans call a construction; and nothing serves more decisively to establish the national
differences of mind as well as manners than the simple fact of its
unbounded popularity for a season, even among the highest
thinkers of one great country, and the earnest discussion of it
by the proudest intellects of another-while speaking generally
and collectively, we cannot fancy of the English understanding,
though sublimed to the uttermost, as bestowing upon it the entertainment of one serious thought, so that a summary rejection
would ensue on the very first aspect of it. We have certainly
no wish that it should be otherwise; and would rather that all the
world should speak of us still, intellectually as well as geographically, as " Britannos toto orbe divisos," than that we should ever in
the least give in to such monstrous idealism. Yet there must be a
charm in the German philosophy lying somewhere else than in
its truth, some other inspiration than in the articles of its creed.
The gyrations of the noble bird are gazed upon with delight and
wonder; but when it gets beyond the limits of our sustaining
atmosphere, it then, as Kant hath predicted, is precipitated far out
of sight, among the depths and recesses of a viewless infinity.
But we have left far too little room for the special converse
that we all along felt desirous of holding with Mr. Morell himself on the subject of theology.
The extract already given by us in our Review, from  Morell,
vol. i., pp. 239-240, is immediately followed up by the two paragraphs which we now present to the reader.
"Instead, therefore, of entirely separating the investigation of mental from
that of all other phenomena, we should here perceive their mutual relations,
and learn to gaze upon the universe both of mind and matter as a whole, the




MORELL S MODERN PHIILOSOPlIY.                 483
one harmonious production of the Infinite Intellience. In this view of the
case we should contemplate man in his mysterious connection with nature, and
nature in its relation to humanity, while the last and crowning problem would
be to show how they both subsist in God. A system embracing this sweep of
investigation, might be termed philosophy in its highest sense.'" Had Reid pointed out this as the ultimate tendency of metaphysical research, we believe that his successors could have built upon such a foundation
a noble superstructure of speculative philosophy; but having discouraged this
attempt in the outset, his successors have for the most part trodden the path of
mere observation, until the science which might soar to the very noblest efforts
of the human intellect, and strive to solve the great problems of man, the universe, and their Creator, has dwindled down almost to puerility in the hands of
some of its most recent advocates."-Vol. i. p. 241.
It is obvious that our author here contrasts the method in which
Natural Theology has been presented by disciples of the Scottish
school, since the days of Reid, with that more vigorous and productive method in which he thinks it ought to have been presented. Our reply at present must necessarily be a brief one.*
The first and greatest argument, then, of our Natural Theology,
is identical with that of Kant's-the felt supremacy of conscience,
which we have long deemed the most influential of all others for
upholding the faith of a God throughout the world. It is true
that we do not call it the Categorical Imperative, or place it
under the head of the Practical Reason, in contradistinction to
the Pure Reason of the transcendental philosophy. It is substantially the same argument notwithstanding, and couched by us in
surprisingly coincident language with that of Kant and his commentators.-as that a law implies a lawgiver, &c. It must be
admitted, however, that we view it as an a posteriori argument,
by which we pass from the felt experience of a judge within the
breast to the inference of a Judge above and over us, who planted
it there, being at one in this respect with Bishop Butler, who, as
from the regulator in a watch he would infer not only a maker
for it but that his purpose in so making it was that it should move
regularly,-so from the conscience in a man did he infer the
design, and of course a Designer, that man should walk conscientiously. This argument, too, we bring to bear, even as Kant did,
on the soul's immortality-along with a second argument, which
he also employs, grounded on the boundless aspirations and
capacities of the human spirit, seeing that it were a violent anomaly, as being an exception to the universal law of adaptation
which runs throughout nature, if creatures endowed as we are,
were not provided with a state of conscious existence on the other
side of death, in which to expatiate. Such, in its main features,
is the Natural Theology of Kant, and such. we add, is the Natu* In truth, we could not do full justice to the theme, but in a separate article, at least
half as long as the present one, on " The Scottish Natural Theology," to be afterwards
followed up by another, where, with express reference to Strauss and to German Rationalism in general, we should like to give forth our views on " The Christian Theology of
Scotland."




484             MORELL' S MODERN PHILOSOPHY.
ral Theology of Scotland, in which, after all, Kant felt himself
obliged to take refuge, when, as if by a compensation of errors, he
conjured up what he calls the Practical Reason, to repair the mischief; or rather the else irretrievable ruin which his Pure Reason
had inflicted on the cause of Theism.
And here we cannot but remark the vast superiority, as it
seems to us, of the argument from conscience, to the Cartesian
cargument for a God, even though advocated by Cousin, and on
the ground too of its being an argument that can be felt and
recognized by all men. This last and most precious characteristic we have ever regarded, as being, par excellence, the property
of the argument from  conscience, this universal attribute of
huamanity; but that the other, or argument fiom contrast, had no
pretensions to it.  This latter argument proceeds on the postulate
that each idea of the human mind suggests its opposite-as the
finite suggestive of the infinite, the conditioned of the absolute,
the imperfect of the perfect: and that thus every human being,
conscious as he must be of his own limited and imperfect nature,
is led, by a necessary law of human thought, to the conception
cf an infinite and all-perfect God.  We confess of this argument,
with its additional draught upon us, that the very conception
of such a Being is, in itself, the conclusive evidence of His reality,-we do confess to the very slight impression which it makes
upon our understanding. Least of all can we imagine that it
should have any prevalent or practical effect throughout the species at large-and this though enforced by all the talent and eloquence of Cousin, along with an inimitable gracefulness of illustration, when he pictures forth in some exquisite sentences a religious peasant, strongly reminding us of Cowper's aged female in
humble but happy life. with just and elevated faith in the God of
the whole universe, though herself "never heard of half a mile
fiom home."
But there is a second great branch of argument in Natural
Theology, which, though of far less powerful effect than the
former on human consciences, and so far less powerful as an efficient either of religious feelings or religious convictions in the
world, is the one on which, at present, we have most to say-it
being that on which we hold an adjustment with Mr. Morell to be
most urgently called for. We mean the argument for a God, as
based on the phenomena and dispositions of the material world.
This argument stands in somewhat the same relation to the
former, that the External do to the Internal Evidences of Christianity-the strength of the one lying in the credibility of those
alleged miracles by which inroad was made on the regularities
of nature, and of the other or greatly more influential in the universal manifestation which the subject-matter of Christianity is
fitted to make of itself to the consciences of men, and always will
make when these consciences are earnest and alive to the reali.




MORELL S MODERN PHILOSOPHY.             485
ties of the question. We can pursue no further at present this
general analogy between the Natural and the Christian Theology
-only adverting to their common resemblance, in that each has
one argument by which to obtain a hold on the faith of humanity
at large; and another, more appropriate to scientific men. and
which, if not powerful enough to propitiate their attention to the
theme, is at least powerful and strong enough to condemn their
summary rejection of it.
But a disciple of the German philosophy should. as much as
possible, be spoken with in his own language. "s Every event has
a cause."  This wne readily concede to Kant, the great master
of that philosophy; nor do we have any quarrel either with the
substance or nomenclature of what he tells us, when he says that
the words now enunciated form a synthetic proposition 2 yriori.
But while it is a priori that all men believe in a cause for every
event, it is only by observation & posteriori that they come to
know  what the cause particular is —though, after this, and by a
suggestion a priori, they always look for the same effects from
the same causes, as well as infer the same causes from the same
effects. All men have an original confidence in the stability
of Nature's successions; but it is the office of experience to find
out what the terms of the succession are-which, when once
found out, enable us to say of many a specific event what the
cause of it actually and specifically is; as, that heat is the cause
of expansion, impulse of motion, injury of resentment, and so
of all other ascertained sequences both in the outer world of phenomena and the inner world of sentiment and feeling. These
latter propositions, however, belong to a different class from the
one that has just been defined by us. They are the synthetic
propositions a posteriori of Kant.
Even M. Comte himself would allow of such causal successions within the domain of his own positive philosophy; or, if he
would object to their being viewed as causal, he would at least
allow of such a regularity in the order of succession, as, that from
the prior term of a sequence, one might legitimately anticipate its
wonted posterior, or from the posterior might infer the prior term
that had gone before it. And he is quite right when he makes no
difference in this respect between the phenomena of human life or
conduct, on the one hand, and the phenomena of inert matter, upon
the other-insomuch, that in either of these departments alike, he
would, from certain given antecedents, anticipate the same results,
or, from certain given results, would infer the same antecedents.
For example, should he witness the putting together of any beneficial collocation, as a watch, under process of construction by
human hands, where part was added and adapted to part, and all
at length to the effect of a very obvious utility, he would have no
difficulty, when he next saw a watch, to infer a watchmaker-an
artificer of adequate skill and power for the production of such a




486             MORELL S MODERN PHILOSOPHY.
mechanism.  There is nothing in his antipathy to the doctrine
of final causes which would at all embarrass or restrain him from
such a conclusion-arguing, as he would in any other case of an
observed succession, fioron the consequent, a watch, to the antecedent watchmaker from whom it had sprung. Nay, though he
had never seen a watch made. he might still, and with all confidence, have inferred the watchmaker-and this on the strength
of his general observation of the way in which such things are
originated: And so, though he may be never present at the manufacture of a coach, or a ship, or a house, or a gun, or a steamengine, he would still most rightfully conclude and on the basis
of a sufficient experience, that a designing mind and a designing
hand had to do with all these fabrications.
Now, this very conclusion, against which a disciple of Comte
would not except in reasoning on the origin of a human or artificial mechanism, a disciple of the Scottish school would regard as
equally legitimate and right when reasoning on the first origin
of any natural mechanism. Let there be but a beneficial collocation of parts, and he would infer that the hand of a designer
had been there-and with an evidence all the more intense in proportion to the number of parts or of independent conditions which
entered into the combination. This we hold to be the great &
posteriori argument which external and visible nature contributes
to the evidence for a God —grounded not on the existence, and
not even essentially on the laws, but mainly and in chief strength
on the dispositions of matter, and from which we infer, that the
present economy of things, with its goodly arrangements-its
endless variety of manifold, yet all most beneficial adaptationsarose from the fiat of a powerful and presiding intelligence, who
willed it into being.
We hold that this argument has been greatly rectified and
improved, and put into form, since the days of Dr. Reid. It was
a mighty disencumbrance for it to forego all the obscure and unsatisfactory metaphysics which the English theists, at the beginning of the last century, grounded on the mere existence of matter
-reasoning from its entity alone to the entity of spirit, and fancying that on this simple step they had found their way to the
great anterior cause which gave birth to all things. It was a
further concentration of strength to forbear the question of its
eternity; and instead of requiring a commencement for the substratum of the universe, to be satisfied, for all the purposes of an
effective demonstration, with a commencement for its now subsisting economy. It was even a better intellectual tactics —a
retirement from the outworks to the citadel of our argumentwhen. quitting for a time the consideration of its laws, we made
our single appeal to the dispositions of matter, and so could wield
the very argument bv which we reason from a production of
human art to a human artificer, who endows not matter with its




MORELL' S MODERN PHILOSOPHY.           487
properties, but only puts his materials into order and form. The
recent discoveries in geology have not only cast a wondrous
illustration on this argument, but serve mightily to confirm it. It
is when new systems emerge from the wreck of old ones, and
from the ruins of a former catastrophe there is built up another
modern habitation, and peopled with new races both of animals
and vegetables-it is then that we demand the interposal of a
God. Whence did these new genera and species come into
being? Nature gives no reply to this question; and, though ransacked throughout all her magazines, the secret of these actual
and present, and altogether new organisms, is nowhere to be
found. These two doctrines, the all but universal faith of naturalists, that there is no spontaneous generation, and no transmutation of the species, are two denials in fact, of nature's sufficiency
for the origination of our races, and shut us up unto the faith
of Nature's God. It places our argument on firm vantage-ground
to say, that were all the arrangements of our existing Natural
History destroyed, all the known forces of our existing Natural
Philosophy could not replace them.
We are aware of the altogether contemptuous regard which
transcendentalism casts upon these things. Its natural habitat is
aloft, whence it looks down with utter indifference and scorn on
all that takes place in our lower world-whether on the geology
so visibly portrayed before our eyes on the face of the globe; or
on the theology that would deign to read its characters, and
bestow so much as one thought upon its movements. We can
therefore scarcely expect even a hearing from it, when we tell
of our own satisfaction in the overthrow of an atheistical sophism
which threatened at one time the integrity of the'a posteriori argument, and so put the whole of our Scottish school on their
expedients for the defence of it. The truth is, that Hume's argument, grounded on his allegation that the world is a singular
effect, always seemed to the metaphysicians of this country the
most formidable, or most difficult to deal with, of any that had
ever been framed on this side of Atheism-insomuch that both
Reid and Stewart betook themselves to the very questionable
expedient of inventing a new principle for the purpose of neutralizing it. It is only of late that this sophistry, once so perplexing,
and so inadequately met, has been effectually disposed of in another way; and the Natural Theology of Scotland, represented
by our author as dwindling into puerility, now stands firm on the
basis of vindicated experience-alike safe from the attack of its
deadliest enemy, and independent of the frail supports that were
rendered by friends in those days of its vaunted manhood.
We expect no sympathy with this vindication at the hands of
the transcendentalists. The very name of experience will repel
them; nay, create the keenest repugnance in the hearts of those
who have vastly greater value for the constructions and excogita



488             MORELL'S MODERN PHILOSOPHY.
tions of a German system, than for all which the industry of man
can find, or his eye can observe, in the actual constructions of
God's own universe.
We confess that our chief value for the experimental argument,
is because of its special adaptation to the habitude of those minds
which are disciplined in the methods and investigations of Physical Science.  For the evidence of theology. whether Natural or
Revealed, like the reasoning of Christianity's greatest apostle,
has in it something for all men." It is an evidence which can be
carried even within the domain of what Comte terms his positive
philosophy, and can there challenge from the sight of the world
his belief in a world-maker, for the same principle on which from
the sight of a watch he himself would believe in a watch-maker.
But this is a quarter in which the metaphysicians of the continent,
and Morell among the number (Morell, i., 481-485), will tell him
that no evidence for a God is to be found-not at least till the
glorious spectacle of Nature, teeming to common eyes with all
the indices of design and order, shall somehow have been transformed and sublimated into one of their own speculations. Meanwhile these speculations so conflict and alternate with each other
so float and disappear at turns in the whirlpool of debate-so
pass onward from hand to hand in successive and ever-shifting
transmutations, from the transcendentalism of Kant to the idealism
of Fichte, and thence to the still loftier empyrealism of Schelling,
and thence to the mysticism of Jacobi, and thence to the nihilism
of Hegel-that no wonder if the poor man, bewildered and lost
in the turmoil of a thousand controversies and utterly in despair
for aught like settlement or repose, should have been tempted to
cast the whole theme, with its corollaries or cognate doctrines of
an immaterial spirit and supernal God away from him. One cannot say in how far these men are not responsible for the atheism
of the boldest and one of the most powerful thinkers whom France
has to boast of.
But we confess to a still deeper melancholy in our view of
Humboldt-a feeling in which our author seems to share, and
this because of the utter destitution of all reference to the Creator
in his last work entitled Kosmos; or if he do advert to a first
cause, it is to a primordial necessity, and not to the living God.
On reading his treatise some months previous to the appearance
of Morell's book, we could not help being struck with the total
absence of any allusion to the world's Author; but what we felt
as most instructive of all, was his own explanation or apology for
the want of it-" the wholly objective tendency of his disposition."
From other passages which could be cited, it is too obvious that
he looks on the theology of his subject as placed at a distance
well nigh impassable from the subject itself,-as belonging to a
* 1 Cor. ix., 22.




MORELL S MODERN PHILOSOPHY.             489
"higher class of ideas"-as involving him in " the mysterious unresolvable problem of origin" or " the obscure commencement of
the history of origination"-as requiring the consideration of " abstract principles, having their foundation in pure reason only;"
and upon all which he declines aspiring " to the perilous elevation
of a purely rational science of nature," or adventuring on "' those
depths of a purely speculative philosophy." Altogether, the impression on Humboldt's mind must be that theology is wrapt in
transcendentalism; and that he must traverse the mighty gulf of
separation between the objective and the subjective ere he can
come into contact with it. Now, in point of fact, if he do not
need to make this transition in passing from the view of a coach
to the inference of a coachmraker, he has little need to make it
in passing from the view of those new organisms which each new
and successive formation in geology presents to his notice, to the
inference of a designing Intelligence who called them into being.
It is true that we cannot make either the one inference or the
other, without one of Kant's primitive judgments coming into
play. But the judgment comes spontaneously; and in the act
of forming it there is no necessity for lifting one's eyes from the
outward object of contemplation. But herein lies the subtle allusion which operates both on Humboldt's imagination, and on that
of the metaphysicians themselves who have done so much to pervert the mind of Germany. He counts it not enough that the
primitive or proximate judgment has been evoked, which of itself,
though but one step, is a sufficient introduction to the theology of
the subject; but that over and above this, he must entertain Kant's
judgment of this judgment, or his own reflex judgment thereupon.
Now this following up of the direct by the reflex process is wholly
uncalled for, but such is the constant subjective habit of these
singular people; and it is this which explains, while it vindicates
the saying of Goethe in regard to his own countrymen, " that the
Germans have the gift of rendering the sciences inaccessible."
It is a cruel result when theology is thus made inaccessible. All
look back with generous and just indignation to the decretals of
that ecclesiastical counsel which compelled Galileo to renounce
the true philosophy.  We have scarcely less patience for those
decretals of the metaphysical school, which, acting with the spell
of its authority on such a mind as that of Humboldt, should have
deceived him into the notion that the true theology is beyond the
reach of his attainment; or that he stands hopelessly and forever
debarred from the apprehension of that God over the glories of
whose creation he so luxuriates, and this because Nature has withheld from him all talent and all tendency for the subjective!
There is here a grievous misdirection of the view from that
place where lies the main strength of our argument and of our
cause-a misdirection into which Mr. Morell has himself fallen.
For example, our inference from the beneficial collocations of
62




490             MORELL S MODERN PHILOSOPHY.
matter to the wisdom of Him who ordained them, is of far too
plain and puerile a character to be at all worthy of his entertainment. And what else would he substitute in its place? How is
it that he would have us take flight from this humble path of observation, and " soar to the very noblest efforts of the human intellect, and strive to solve the great problems of man, the universe,
and their Creator?"  Not, it would appear, from aught in the
character and properties of man, but firom the essence of man;
and not from the dispositions of the universe, but from what belongs to the essence of the universe; and not from the attributes
of God, as evinced by His works or in His ways, but still from the
essence of God.  We have really been making it a formal and
express effort, to ascertain the starting point of his ontology, or
" loftier region of thought," over which he longs to expatiate, and
to scale the heights of the Prima Philosophia; and all that we
can find, all that he himself alleges, is but these three substrata to
come and go upon. Now, though by a fundamental law of the
human understanding we believe in a substratum for the Deity, a
substratum for man, a substratum for the universe, we cannot, for
our lives, imagine what more we know of them than that barely
they exist; nor how it is that these three bare entities can be
turned, like geometrical definitions, into the germs of reasoning
and endless discovery. We fear that they will be of as little
avail for progress as the abstract ideas of Plato. However, we
again say, let him try; but would further bid our aspiring young
philosopher " remember Kant's dove," a saying as brief and sententious, and which it were wholesome and well should it become
as memorable, as " remember Lot's wife."  We should like that
our sanguine and adventurous author had it inwoven on the phylactery of his garment, even as it ought to be on every German
toga, and inscribed on the portico of every German university.
It might restrain many an Ixionic flight, whereof it is certain that
hitherto the monuments or memorials have been far less durable
than a pillar of salt-a wreath of attenuated vapor too impalpable
for vision. But it is too obvious of Mr. Morell, that he has caught
the infection, and that he would fain take wing above the terra
firma of experience, nay, beyond the limits of its encompassing atmosphere.  We do hope that he will not venture too
far. There is much of what is good in him; nor are we without
the expectation that, like the bird of Noah, we shall soon have to
welcome him back again to the ark in safety-to the commonsense philosophy and puerile theology of Scotland.
And here, for one moment, we would address ourselves to the
seriousness of Mr. Morell. That theology of which at present
he has such fond imaginations, is after all but a theology in prospect. Those inward mysteries of which he speaks, the mysteries
of being, and to which he looks so wistfully, with the view of
seizing on them, have not yet come within his grasp. And vet




MORELL'  MODERN PHILOSOPHY.             491
he tells us that Natural Theology is the basis of the Revealed, or
the basis of Christianity.  Which, then, of the natural theologies
is it that he means? Is it the Natural Theology which has been
already realized, and of which he tells us that it is comparatively
worthless? Or is it the Natural Theology still in reserve, and
for the completion of which he is now looking forward to the spiritual philosophy of Paris's Eclectic School? Meanwhile, what
are we to do with our Christianity? Must we keep it in abeyance, as being a superstructure without foundation, till the great
master whom he most reveres shall have given full proof of the
inspiration which he claims, and of which he affirms, that it and
no other was the inspiration either of prophets in the Old, or apostles in the New Testament?
Had it not been for the danger which lies along the confines
of Mr. Morell's speculations (undesigned by himself we have no
doubt), we should not have meddled with him. But there is a
full call to interpose when the author of a book so fitted to fascinate, and when wrong to mislead, tells the numerous youth of our
colleges that hitherto they have only been dealing with superficialities, and have never yet found so much as a door of entry into
the recesses and profundities of his inner world. Let them be
assured, nevertheless, that with the voice of that conscience which
speaks so powerfully in all bosoms, and those glories of a universe
patent to every eye, and which shine so palpably around them;
and let them further be assured, that in the Bible, that wondrous
monument of past ages, with its firm authentic place in history,
and its telling power on men's hearts-though unskilled to the
end of their days in the idealism of Germany, and in all its categories-let them be nevertheless assured, in the possession of
vouchers so ample as these, that both their Natural and their
Christian theology are safe.
But, in good truth, he is egregiously wrong, when he speaks of.
Natural Theology being the basis of Christianity, in the same way
that the foundati6n to a house is of its superstructure, or a premise
in argument is of its conclusion. He utterly mistakes the law
and nature of this succession. It is true that Natural Theology
comes before Christianity, not syllogistically, however, but historically, not in the order of demonstration, but in the order of human sentiment and feeling. The one precedes the other just as
the sufferings and anxieties of distress precede the inquiry after
relief, and then the actual finding of its efficacy. It is not, however, the felt disease which points to the remedy; but the remedy
is offered to the disease, and gives in itself the proof of its own
virtues to all who make use of it. In plainer language, the matter proceeds thus: The theology of nature is the theology of
conscience; and conscience tells every possessor of it, if not the
certainty, at least the probability of a God. And this probability
is enough to set men agoing; for, as Butler says with deep and




492             MORELL'  MODERIN PHILOSOPHIY.
eminently practical sagacity, probability is the guide of life. And
so the sense of moral deficiency, the unfailing sense of every
earnest spirit, will, without any nice argumentative computation,
suggest the instant feeling of at least a probable guilt, a probable
God, and a probable vengeance at His hands,-enough to set the
whole machinery of human interests, and fears, and disquietudes,
into busy operation.  It is in the midst of such agitations and doings that Christianity offers itself to the notice of an inquirer; and
for the tens or twenties who may seek after its literary and historical evidence, there will at least be thousands who fasten their
intent regards upon its subject matter; and who, as the fruit of
their moral earnestness and prayers, will be made to behold its
divine adaptation to the exigencies of their state, and so to close
with it on the strength of those credentials which are properly
and independently its own. At the earlier stage of this deeply
interesting process, this moral history of the spirit, we can figure
to ourselves the peasant so beautifully sketched by Cousin, but at
length transformed at a later stage, the stage of her confirmed
Christianity, into the peasant of Cowper-the subject of an inspiration different from that of our French philosopher, but which
we are not unhopeful, and pray God that he may yet experience,
when the Bible, making known to him its marvellous revelations
into the psychology of our nature, will draw from him the acknowledgment that verily this book tells us all which is in our
hearts, and verily God is in it of a truth.*
The most grievously wrong passage of our author's work, and
by which he unknowingly has given the greatest pain to many of
his readers, is his Critique on Dr. Abercromby-a man of far
higher and holier aim than to create for himself a name in philosophy; and whose writings, by which though dead he yet speaketh, better than all Greek and all Roman fame, are of a character
so pure and heavenly, and withal so humble, that the ashes of
their truly estimable author, undisturbed by the hand of rude
and unsparing violence, should have been suffered to repose in
peace.
And though less in fault, he is scarcely less in error. when he
fastens the charge of mysticism on Dr. Wardlow, one of th'e clearest and most logical writers in our day. The mistake into which
he falls here is somewhat analogous to that which he commits
when speaking of Natural Theology as the basis of Christianity,
and only requires to be met by an analogous rectification. It follows not that a perfect system of ethics is discoverable by man,
although he might be abundantly capable of recognizing its excellence and truth, when brought to his view by a revelation ab
extra.  Had there been an utter extinction both of conscience
and reason in our species, we should have been beyond the pale
of all moral reckoning. But there might be enough in man to
* 1 Cor. xiv., 25.




MORELL S MODERN PHILOSOPHY.                 493
make him responsible for the attention which he gives to Christianity, and yet not enough to make him independent of its disclosures-insomuch that without a Gospel, both its informations
and its lessons might have remained hopelessly and forever beyond the reach of his attainment.  And this distinction between
the two faculties of discovery and discernment is not peculiar to
the subject of Theology, but is exemplified in all the sciences.
Mr. Maorell, with much to commend and much to be grateful
for, in that one so conversant as he is in the philosophy of the continent, should nevertheless lift so intrepid and uniform a testimony on
the side of Christianity-has yet been somewhat unfortunate in several of his allusions both to Theology at large, and to certain of its
doctrines. Charles Fox once said of a parliamentary acquaintance who had much of the style and manner of cadence of oratory,
yet without force and without substance, that he spoke to the tune
of a good speech.  There is one lengthened passage in Mr. Morell's work, of which we should say throughout, that he reasoned
to the tune of a good argument.  We refer to his discussion on
the question of Liberty and Necessity. Instead of taking the main
elements of his ratiocination from the mental phenomena, or from
mind itself, which is the truly proper subject of this question, he
draws chiefly, not on the philosophy of the subject, but on the history of its philosophy, and makes the determination turn on the
respective merits of the schools which took their several parts in
this controversy. Now this is greatly too wholesale a style of
argumentation for such a topic of inquiry; and, if we may so
express it, the elements made use of are of much too bulky and
aggregate a description to have that analytic force which is so
indispensable to a sound and thorough solution on the matter at
issue. He keeps back from us the philosophy of the question, and
gives us history instead. Really it were investing the historians
of philosophy with a tremendous power, if we must take their
dogmata as well as their information —and this on the strength
of argument built up of historical materials alone. At this rate
M. Comte has just as good a right to found an atheism on what
he tells us of the Eras, the theological and metaphysical and positive eras, as Mr. Morell has to found the doctrine of contingency
on what he tells us of his Schools. Instead of the slight notice
wherewith in half a sentence he dismisses Edwards, we should
have liked much better that he had grappled with his arguments.
And he has here forgotten to let us know that Leibnitz, though
at the head of the rational or spiritual philosophy which he so
much admires, was also a Necessarian.*  Nevertheless we must
* It is remarkable that Madame de Stal lays claim to Leibnitz as the powerful asserter of Liberty. But the mistake, if mistake it be, is altogether justifiable-for if both he
and Edwards were better understood, it would be found, not only that they are the advocates of the only liberty which is at all conceivable, but of the only liberty which can
sustain all the activities of human life, as well as all the enforcements and duties of
moral obligation.




491            MORELL S MODERN PHILOSOPHY.
admit of the whole passage on which we are now animadverting that it is written with great spirit and ability; and that from
the beginning to the end of it, he reasons to the tune of a good
argument.
But we must now take leave of Mr. Morell; and we desire to
do it with the most perfect good humor, as we do with unfeigned
respect for his great talents, and gratitude for the instruction that
we have received from him. May life and health be long spared
to him for the prosecution of his high labors, and for the fulfilment
of that expectation regarding him which the promise of this his first
appearance so abundantly warrants —as the accomplished combatant of infidelity in its new and coming forms, one of our foremost champions in the sacred cause of Truth and Righteousness.
The question of chief concern to us is —What might be the
probable issues of the growing admiration now felt for the philosophical systems of Germany? And first it is of prime importance to remark that much of the admiration thus felt for them is
irrespective of their truth. For example, there are many who
can speak, and with honest enthusiasm too, of the poetical and
comprehensive scheme of Schelling, yet would never once think
of admitting it into their creed. And so we read of Fichte that
"his singular and commanding address, his fervid eloquence, the
rich profusion of his thoughts following each other in most convincing sequences, and modelled with the sharpest precision,
astonished and delighted his hearers." Now one can well understand how there might be a series of most convincing sequences,
a strict logical dependence between step and step in a chain of
reasoning, and each step lighted up too with brilliant fancy and
deepest moral earnestness-but without a sustaining basis of
truth or evidence for the whole. Yet though wanting this, there
might still be a glorious symphony for the eye to gaze upon.
And accordingly in the University of Jena, Fichte carried all
before him. The philosophy of his predecessor, Reinhold, vanished in a moment; and nothing was heard among the students
but the cry of Ego and Non-ego as the new symbols by which
the old ones of substance and form were displaced and superseded. Even Goethe, whom Fichte had before done homage to
as the Sophocles of Germany, was carried along on the tide
of the then-prevailing fascination, though he still demanded a scientific foundation for a system which otherwise had so much
charmed him. There is much to be gathered from the single
fact of that intense mutual sympathy, that kindness of spirit,
which obtained between these two, living at that time in the same
town, and in the occasional enjoyment of each other's societythe one held in honor, for a season at least, as the greatest philosopher; and the other, of more enduring and universal fame, as
the greatest poet and dramatist of Germany. The truth is, that
the work of each in its own way, the lectureship of the one and




MORELL' MODERN PHILOSOPHY.                   495
the drama of the other, was a sort of theatrical performance, and
hung upon with equal, and very much with kindred delight, by
the thousands who listened to them.  He who dwelt in the
romance of sentiment was not further removed from the realities
of human life, than he who dwelt in the romance of science was
from the realities of truth and nature.   Yet both were most wonderfully inspiring and soul-elevating romances, notwithstanding.
An excessive love of the fictitious, whether as indulged in the perusal of ordinary or philosophical novels, might be alike injurious to
the experimental wisdom of common life, and to the requisite
habitudes of thought for the acquirement of a sound and stable
philosophy. Yet we are not prepared to say that the occasional
recreation of a novel, with the full sense of its being a pure invention and nothing more, will mislead a general reader from the
prudentials or the proprieties of our actual and every-day world;
nor are we prepared to say that the occasional study of a German metaphysician, with the full sense of his being a baseless
speculator and nothing more, will mislead the votary of science
from the firm pathway to its best and highest discoveries. Nay,
we are not sure but that both might turn out to be improving and
beneficial exercises-for that, as a novel on the one hand might,
better than the prosaic virtues of familiar and home-bred experience, inspire a purer and nobler style of sentiment; so a speculation on the other, however groundless and unsubstantial in itself,
might nevertheless abound in such specimens of logic, and profundity, and marvellous discernment into the inner mysteries of
our nature, as both mightily to strengthen the mental faculties,
and elevate the aims of science. We do not want to speak
lightly of German transcendentalism, and far less of its numerous
admirers. On the contrary, we view their passion for it with the
same respect that we should a very high species of amateurship.
We should reckon the sitters in the gallery, whose strongest
relish is for spectacles or the theatricals of sight, to be of a lower
grade than the sitters in the pit or the boxes, whose preference is
for the theatricals of sentiment. But greatly above both, in our
estimation, are they whose higher demand is for what may be
termed the theatricals of science; and who, though they do not
concern themselves much, if at all, about the truth of its doctrines,
yet luxuriate as in their best-loved element, when following in the
march of its demonstrations, or soaring upwards to the sublimest
height of its ideas.* No wonder that system should follow after
* There is a saying of Lessing's which serves us as a key to these peculiarities of the
German character and habit. "If the Almighty held the truth in one hand, and the
search after it (la verite, et la recherche de la rvrite) in another, it is the latter that I should
demand of him in preference." We have all heard of the pleasures of the chase, and
how vastly they transcend the felt value of the game. And so we can imagine a far
greater delight in the pursuit of truth than in the acquisition of it. It is a high order of
sport certainly; but with all respect to these more illustrious sportsmen, we must still hold
that the end is better than the means, the landing-place than the way which leads to it.
and, at all events, that the truth is too serious and sacred a thing to be thus sported with'




496             MORELL S MODERN PHILOSOPHIY.
system for the entertainment of such a public, just as drama follows after drama for the lovers of the stage. We refuse to
mould our philosophy according to the systems of Germany; but
this will not hinder our profoundest veneration for that public in
Germany, whose chief enjoyment lies in the regalement of their
imaginations and intellects, in the play and exercise of the highest
faculties of our nature. In serious and sober earnest, these Germans are the noblest people on the face of the earth. We greatly
prefer their taste and value for mental products to the gross utilitarianism of our own land, their Leipsic fair of books to our own
broad-cloths and bales of merchandise; and it makes one's old
and languid blood beat with the pulse of other days, when we
read of their students " warm from the schools of glory," shouting
in defiance to each other the watch-word of their respective philosophies, and almost ready to fight in the defence of them. Altogether it marks them as a loftier and more ethereal race; and we
rejoice that there should still be one country in the world, uninfected by the breath of our mercantile society, and neither overrun by the frivolities, nor debased by the sordidness of other
countries and other climes.
But their great writers have other fascinations besides those
of lofty and commanding intellect. Many of them stand forth to
us clothed in the virtues of antiquity. Kant has been well designated by Cousin as the Stoic of the 18th century. Of Fichte we
are told, that "however extravagant we may consider his theoretical science, yet it is impossible to read his noble sentiments on
human duty, and to see them exemplified in his own eventful
life, without feeling our moral weakness reproved, and our moral
strength invigorated."  (Morell, ii. 533),-so that the resolute
principle and high-minded patriotism of the man may go far with
many to redeem his speculative errors. And besides that nobleness of character which awakens in their readers, as it did in
their pupils, the admiration that we feel for highest moral chivalry, we must recollect too the graces often of their oratory and
grandeur of their imaginations. In the language of Madame de
Stail, "'we find nowhere but among the German nations the
phenomenon of those writers who consecrate the most abstract
metaphysics to the defence of systems the most exalted, and who
hide a lively imagination under an austere logic." It is not to be
wondered then, that with this combination of excellences, they
should have kindled such enthusiasm in the hearts of many who
did not believe in the dogmata of their creeds, perhaps even did
not understand, or at least did not care for them. They are
proselytes, not to the philosophy of Germany, but to the living
spirit of its authors.
Such, and such precisely, is the proselytism of Mr. Carlyle.
He is the champion of Germanism, not in its letter, but in its
spirit. We could not, he himself could not, point to one of its




MORELL' S MODERN PHILOSOPHY.           497
dogmata as having aught to do with the inspiration which animates him, and which he has given forth in such marvellous
volumes to the world. Could he, for example, tell us what the
Articles are, and whether to be found in the Confessions of Schelling, or Hegel, or Fichte, or even Kant, which have caused the fire
to burn within him?  They are not creeds, but men who are the
objects of his idolatry, which, under the name of hero-worship, he
renders alike to those of most opposite opinions-as to Luther,
and Knox, and Cromwell on the one hand, or with equal veneration to the lofty poets and transcendentalists of Germany upon the
other. He is a lover of earnestness more than a lover of truth;
and it would not be our counteractive at least, to urge that he
should be a lover of truth more than a lover of earnestness. We
should rather say that both are best; and would our island only
not be frightened from its propriety by the high-sounding philosophy of the continent-neither overborne by its pretensions, nor
overawed by its cabalistic nomenclature-would our savans and
theologians but keep unmoved on the ground of common sense,
and by their paramount demand for evidence at every step, lay
resolute arrest on the pruriencies of wanton speculation-then
while they rejected all that was unsubstantial and unsound in the
dogmata of the transcendental school, it were well that they
imported the earnest and lofty enthusiasm of its disciples into the
phlegmatic universities and no less phlegmatic churches of our
land. We do not need to take down the framework of our existing orthodoxy, whether in theology or science. All we require
is that it shall become an animated framework, by the breath of a
new life being infused into it. Ours has been most truly denounced as an age of formulism: But to mend this we do not
need to exchange our formulas, only to quicken them; nor to quit
the ground of our own common sense for baseless speculations;
nor to substitute the Divine Idea of Fichte for a personal and living God; nor to adopt for our Saveour a mere imbodied and
allegorized perfection, and give up the. actual and historical Jesus
Christ of the New Testament; nor, finally, to go in quest of a chimerical ontology in upper regions, fhr out of mortal ken, and for
visions of merest fancy there, to renounce either the certainties of
our own palpable and peopled world, or the truths which He who
dwelleth in the heavens brought down from heaven, because no
man can ascend into heaven or tell the mysteries and glories of a
place which he never entered.* What we want is that the very
system of doctrine which we now have shall come to us not in
word only but in power. As things stand at present, our creeds
and confessions have become effete; and the Bible a dead letter;
and that orthodoxy which was at one time the glory, by withering into the inert and the lifeless, is now the shame and the
reproach of all our Churches. If there have been the revival
* John iii. 13.
63




498                NIORETL'S MODERN PHILOSOPHY.
of a more spiritual philosophy in France or elsewhere, it might
well humble us; but this is not exactly the quarter from  which
we should expect our revival to come. Prayer could bring it
down from  above; and it is only thus that all which is good
in Puritanism, its earnestness without its extravagance, its faith
without its contempt for philosophy, its high and heavenly-mindedness without the baser admixture of its worldly politics and passions-it is only thus that the Augustan age of Christianity in
England, an age which Mr. Carlyle has done so much to vindicate and bring to light, will again come back to reform our State,
and to bless our families. But we must not withhold one part at
least of the sketch of this great writer, the whole being one of
the most eloquent and masterly that is presented in these volumes.
", In adverting to the philosophy of England, which bears the German stamp
upon it, almost every one will immediately recall the name of Thomas Carlyle,
a name which stands first and foremost among the idealistic writers of our age.
In bringing the works of Carlyle for a moment before our attention, we shall not
give any opinion respecting his theological sentiments, inasmuch as these lie
quite beyond our beat, and have to be judged of before another tribunal, besides
that of d priori reasoning. Neither do we wish to track his philosophical views
to the German originals, from which it is unquestionable that many of them
have sprung. In the case of a writer so powerful, so original, and so full of
fire and genius, it is a thankless task at best to assign a foreign paternity to the
burning thoughts, that we find scattered with no sparing hand almost through
every page. That Mr. Carlyle has learned much truth, and added much inspiration to the force of his genius, from the literature and philosophy of Germany, he would himself be the first to own; but his sentiments have not been
so much borrowed from these sources, as inspired from them: he has used
these philosophers as his familiar companions, rather than as his masters; and
instead of sitting at their feet, we should rather say' that his soul has burned
within him, as he has walked with them by the way.' "-Vol. ii., pp. 201, 202.,,Much would we say of Carlyle's earnest appeals on the religion of the age,
were we not afraid to venture into so frightful, and, we might almost say, so
dangerous a subject; but here, too, we find him uttering his lamentations or his
anathemas against the hollow-hearted formalism of Christendom, against the
shant worship which has taken the place of the undaunted faith and burning
love of the prophets and apostles of God. Without distinction of name, of rank,
or of popular favor, he tears the mask from the features of hypocrisy, and places
again and again, in no very flattering contrast, the pompous, easy, formal, soulless worship that is seen in many a Christian temple, with the Hindoo, the
Mohammedan, or even the untutored Indian, who sees God in everything he
sees, and hears him in everything he hears.' Will you ever be calling heathenism a lie, worthy of damnation, which leads its devotee to consecrate all upon
its altars, and with a wonder, which transcends all your logic, bows before
some idol of nature; while those who, with sleepy heads and lifeless spirits,
meet in a framed house, and go over a different act of forms, are the only elect
of God?  Clear thy mind of cant! Does not God look at the heart?' PWith a
truly Platonic contempt for the material, and as ardent a love for the intellectual, the ideal, the Divine, our author wanders through all the regions of the
habits, customs, laws, and institutions of our day, chastening all that is shallow
and insincere, and pleading for everything that is earnest and true in human
life." —Vol. ii., pp. 204-206.
It is obvious from these extracts, and indeed from all his writ



MORELL' S MODERN PHILOSOPHY.                  499
mgs, that they are not the dogmata of Germany which Mr. Carlyle
idolizes, but the lofty intellect, the high-souled independence, and,
above all, as most akin with the aspirings of his own chivalrous
and undaunted nature, the noble-heartedness of Germany. And
indeed there is one grand peculiarity for which we would set him
down as a direct and diametrical opponent to the philosophy of her
reigning schools-and that is the value he ever and anon expresses
for facts, his reverence for "great facts," although in the very
class of those truths which continentalism iwould stigmatize as
empirical, and reckon with as of immeasurably lower grade than
any of the logical results of its own hypothetical speculations.*
There lies an immense responsibility on professing Christians, if
such men as he, with their importunate and most righteous demand for all the generous and god-like virtues of the Gospel, are
not brought to " the obedience of the faith." There must be a
most deplorable want amongst us of the "light shining before
men," when, instead of glorifying our cause, they can speak, and
with a truth the most humiliating, of our inert and unproductive
orthodoxy.  These withering adjurations of Carlyle should be
of use to our churches; and yet most assuredly it is not by grafting the German philosophy on the Gospel of Jesus Christ,-nor
yet by overlaying its literal facts or literal doctrines with the
glosses and the allegories of German rationalism,-it is not thus
that we shall be able to vindicate, far less to magnify, our religion,
in the eyes of the world. Without the mutilation of it by one jot
or one tittle, we have but to fill and follow up that Gospel, to imbody it entire in our own personal history, turning its precepts
into a law, and its faith into a living principle.  All the elements
of moral grace and grandeur are there-the sublime devotionthe expansive charity-the greatness of soul, inspired not by the
visions but the clear and certain views of immortality, and hence
the noble superiority to the commonplace objects of a selfish
and short-sighted world-the habit of unwearied well-doing, even
in the midst of surrounding apathy, or it may be of calumny and
injustice-those heaven-born virtues which spring not from earth,
but are nurtured by prayer, and descend on the breast of every
true believer from the upper sanctuary: And, to crown the whole,
the single-hearted loyalty to Him who poured out his soul unto
the death for us, and who, Himself the examplar of all righteousness, tells His disciples that He will hold them to be indeed His
friends, if they but love one another and keep his commandments
* The distinction between necessary and empirical truths might with all sound philosophy be acquiesced in, were it not for the degrading associations which the term empirical carries along with it-tending to bring down the category of" Quid est" among the
lowest, when in fact its rightful place is among the highest objects of human thought.
We therefore desiderate another nomenclature for this distinction, as due to the worth,
and, we add, to the dignity of experience or of experimental science. Such is the power
of imposition that lies in mere words; and we should therefore greatly prefer the classification of abstract and substantive truths.




MORELL'S MODERN PHILOSOPHY.
-These are the simple and sublime lessons which all the wisdom
of all the schools never could have reached, and most certainly
can never realize-because only to be sustained on the basis of
those Scriptures which " cannot be broken," and of that Word
which "passeth not away."
We feel that we have scarcely yet broken ground on the subject of the German philosophy, and more especially of its bearings
on the high questions of Natural and Revealed Religion. Nothing, it must be obvious, beyond the general and the introductory
can possibly be overtaken within the compass of one Article; and
that for doing full justice to the theme, there should be a succession of Articles-though not more than one of moderate size
in each Number of the Review-so as to bestow a piecemeal
treatment both on particular authors and particular arguments.
It is thus that we should like to obtain distinct and thorough critical estimates, through the medium of some one or other of their
writings, of Kant, and Fichte, and Schelling, and Strauss, and
above all of Cousin, at whose hands-though himself not altogether
unscathed by the transcendentalism which he has done so much
to expose-we expect, and indeed have already received most important service, for the re-establishment both of a sounder metaphysics, and of a sound mental philosophy. We happen to know
a sufficient number of men in this country, equal, and more than
equal, to the accomplishment of what we now desiderate in behalf of this Journal; and who, would they only give themselves
to the task, could make triumphant exposure of the cosmogonies,
and, more monstrous still, of the theogonies, that have issued, as
their original fountain-head, from the school of Kdnigsberg. These
inen, we understand, in certain subordinate matters of speculation, in some of what may be called the secular parts of their
philosophy, are not altogether at one. But this is a difference
which in itself, as well as the exhibition of it in these pages, might
well be tolerated. Enough for us, if they hold in common that
indispensable philosophy, which is either conducive to, or might
legitimately co-exist with a sound faith. Enough, if they can
join heart and hand against those speculations which would displace from our creed, either a personal and living God, or a Bible
which, both in its history and in its doctrines, they hold to be literally true.
Let us proclaim it as the great and distinctive feature that we
should wish to see henceforth impressed upon this department of
the Journal-the most special service which through its medium
we should like were rendered to society —the best and worthiest
honor in short to which it can aspire-is that it shall ably acquit
itself as a defender of the Christian faith, intact and entire, against




MORELL'S MODERN PHILOSOPHY.              501
those new and unwonted forms of infidelity which are so rife and
rampant in our day —whether springing up in our own land, oir
imported from abroad. And on the subject-matter, as well as the
credentials of Christianity, we hope and are persuaded that it will
give forth no uncertain sound; but will both be the unflinching
advocate of pure Scripture doctrine, and breathe throughout its
pages the spirit of a deep-felt and devoted piety.
But as yet we have only spoken of one department in the review-even that which is consecrated to the exposition and defence of a sound Theology, in connection with a sound mental
Philosophy and a sound Ethics. We are glad to know that in
the high department of Physical Science, it will be supported as
heretofore by savants of the first name in the country-while, for
the general and miscellaneous reader, every exertion will be made
to obtain the best possible contributions on books of history and
travels and the fine arts, as well as on the methods and statistics
of education. The last of these subjects should ever occupy a
prominent place in a work devoted, as this is, to the best and
highest interests of society-and more especially to what might
be termed the great problem of our day, which is to devise and
carry into effect the likeliest means for the permanent amelioration.
both as respects their comfort and their character, of the working,
class in our land.
There are certain topics of an ephemeral character, which are
more appropriate for the columns of a Newspaper than for the
pages of a Review. And yet these may at times be so closely
associated with permanent truth, or be so conducive to the illustration of it, as to claim a rightful place in the higher of these periodicals. Of this we have given recent instances in our discussions both on a Poor-law and on the Corn-laws. To these we
should like that a third instance were added, in an Article on the
present fearful destitution which has overtaken certain parts of
our empire-the most expressive title for which would be "The
Political economy of a Famine." We regret the impossibility of
such a preparation for the Number now issuing from the press;
but though we cannot at present give the reasoning, it may be of
more practical importance that we give the results of it. We
have already expressed our fears, lest the power and the prolific
virtues of Free Trade should be greatly overrated, and accordingly this has already given rise to far too large an expectation
of supplies from abroad-an expectation which has deluded the
public mind into a false security, and may have perhaps misled
the policy of our Rulers, else we might have had, and should have
still, an instant stoppage of the distilleries. On the other hand, we
hold that the evils of a Poor-rate, in corrupting the habits and undermining the independence of the working classes, cannot be overrated. But in an emergency like the present, of palpable, undeniable distress, when human creatures are dying in hundreds be



502             MIORELL'S MODERN PHILOSOPHY.
fore our eyes, all the liberalities of Government (who in this respect are doing nobly), as well as of both public and private benevolence, should be put forth to the uttermost —for the mitigation of a calamity that will soon evince itself to be of ten-fold
greater dimensions than have yet come within the reckoning of
the community at large, or even of many of our most enlightened
philanthropists and statesmen.
In conclusion, let us observe, that, as we disclaim for this Review all partisanship in politics-so with like earnestness do we
disclaim for it all sectarianism in things ecclesiastical. We utterly
repudiate its being our aim to advance the objects of any one denomination in the Church of Christ, though we shall ever re.
gard it as a high and holy endeavor to advance the objects of the
Church Universal.  On this sacred theme our alone directory is
the Bible, and our alone desire is to speed forward the cause of
truth and righteousness in the world.




POLITICAL ECONOMY OF A FAMINE,
1. Correspondence from July, 1846, to February, 1847, relating to the
measures adopted for the Relief of the Distress in Scotland.
2. Correspondence from July, 1846, to January, 1847, relating to the
measures adopted for the Relief of the Distress in Ireland. (Commissariat Series.)
3. Do. do. do. (Board of Works Series.)
4. Do. from January to March, 1847. (Commissariat Series.)
(From the North British Review, May, 1847.)
WE feel as it were somewhat daring to have assumed such a
title for our article as " The Political Economy of a Famine," a
revolting and unnatural conjunction it will be thought by many;
as bringing the severest infliction which can be laid on suffering
humanity, bringing it under the inspection and placing it at the
disposal of a hard and unfeeling overseer. We adopt the title
notwithstanding, and this expressly because we want to make the
earliest possible declaration of war against such an imagination.
Political economy is no more responsible for the perversities and
errors of its disciples than is any other of the sciences.  It is true
that it is a science, not a sentiment; and that as a science it is
conversant with truth alone. It has been variously defined; but
let us once take up the view, that its object is to discover and assign the laws by which the increase and distribution of wealth are
regulated-surely a fair and competent field of inquiry; and presenting, it may be, a subject in every way as accessible, and as
capable of being strictly and fully ascertained, as any other subject
of human investigation. Now, surely, Political Economy might be
left with all safety, nay often with great advantage, to the accomplishment of this service, without damage or disturbance to the
other, and it may be, the higher objects of national policy. We
might take her lessons upon wealth, and yet not give in to the
false and ruinous principle that wealth is the summum bonum of
a people. There are other and far greater interests, not to be
sacrificed at the shrine of wealth, but to which wealth should be
made the subordinate and the tributary. National independence
is one of those interests which most men will think is paramount
to wealth, and therefore ought to be provided for at the expense
of adequate naval and military establishments. National virtue




504           POLITICAL ECONOMY OF A FAMINE.
is another of those interests which many men, and ourselves among
the number, will also think is paramount to wealth, and ought to
be provided for at the expense of good institutions. But, to come
nearer the case in hand, the preservation of human life is a far
higher object than any which comes within the range of Political
Economy; and rather than that so much as one of our fellowcountrymen should perish of hunger. no expense should be spared
to prevent a catastrophe so horrible. It is for Humanity to give
the word of command in this matter. And yet Political Economy
has a word in it too -the word of direction as to how the command can be most fully and effectually executed. We might refuse altogether her authority as a master, and yet avail ourselves
to the uttermost of her services as a guide-for in this latter capacity her lessons are invaluable; and it is high time to put a decisive check on those senseless outcries which, both in and out of
Parliament, have been lifted up against her. There is no such
mal-adjustment in the constitution, whether of man or of things,
as that, for the sake of his wellbeing, a violence must be done
either to reason or to principle. On the contrary, it will ever be
found-that, in like manner as truth and beauty, so truth and benevolence, or truth and all virtue are at one.
And yet scarcely a paragraph can be written on the existing
distress without a fling at Political Economy-as if the ills and
sufferings of society must be laid at the door of this the most maligned, while perhaps the least understood of the Sciences. And
so in how many a newspaper do we read of"' the cold maxims of
a heartless Political Economy," of the numerous deaths by famine
being -" holocausts offered at the shrine of Political Economy."
"The poor," we are told from  Dingle on the 9th of February,
"are at the mercy of the famine-mongers, who have advanced
the price of meal from three to four shillings, and we have but a
small supply even at these prices. Our bakers are making exorbitant profits. It is a pity we have not the same law here as in
Turkey, where they are nailed through the ears to their own
doors."  In like manner, the Galway Mercury, after recording a
death, goes on to observe that "thus another of our fellow-creatures has been offered up a holocaust to the doctrine of Political
Economy, now so much in favor with our Whig rulers." Similar
reflections to these occur every day in the Irish newspapers. But
to us the far most interesting specimen is that given forth in the
verdict of a jury on a coroner's inquest in Dublin, as fully described in Saunders' News-Letter of February 16. The following is a part of that verdict.-" The jury, without entering into
any political questions, sincerely deplore that the existing Government, however kindly and well disposed towards this country,
should for a single moment adhere to a cold-blooded system of
Political Economy, which thus allows famine to invade the very
heart of our metropolis, and is rapidly decimating the people




POLITICAL ECONOMY OF A FAMINE.           505
throughout the entire island." The verdict closes thus —" In conclusion, the jury, while fully sensible of past exertions, respectfully
implore in the name of their fellow-citizens, that the Government
will, at all costs, at once adopt comprehensive, energetic, and
above all immediate measures, to stay the effects of the famine
now ravaging and desolating our unfortunate country." —A most
impressive utterance, and in a. spirit, too, wherewith one can fully
sympathize-given in truly solemn and affecting circumstances,
and worthy of all duteous and respectful consideration. We feel
inclined to make it the text of our whole Article, though perhaps
differing in our views from the right-hearted men who have furnished it; and disposed to think that neither Government nor
Political Economy is so chargeable with their country's ills as
they seem to apprehend.
We confess our toleration and even our sympathy for such outbreakings as these, when they proceed from the sufferers themselves; but not when uttered, as they sometimes are, within the
walls of Parliament.  The privations and the high prices, which
are sufficiently accounted for by the famine, it might be venial
and certainly not unnatural for parties out of doors to charge upon
the famine-mongers. But what we can feel the utmost indulgence
for, when heard at a public meeting, or given forth from a jurybox, might be a disgrace and utter folly, if spoken in the Senatehouse. And yet it is but the other day, when, if the reports might
be credited, a distinguished and aspiring statesman could tell, with
seeming complacency, of a law by which the dealers in corn, because dealers of course in the miseries of the people, were hung
up at their own doors-an invective pardonable enough when uttered, as at Dingle, by a voice from among the dead and dying;
but not pardonable, because mischievous and wrong, when thus
re-echoed to from the high places of our land. It is certainly not
the way to encourage commerce, or to facilitate the diffusion of
its blessings, thus to summon up the terrors of Lynch law wherewith to overhang and overbear its operations. We know not in
how far the starvation of Ireland might be owing to the dread of
such outrages, and to the insecurity attendant on the conveyance
of the requisite supplies from one locality to another; but it is
our strong persuasion that, with a due liberality on the part of
Government, along with a wise and well-principled administration of its grants, not one of these starvations should have occurred. For the explanation of this opinion, however, we must
draw on the lessons of Political Economy, against which, so loud
is the popular and prevailing cry, that but few will listen to them.
As if the famine were not of itself sufficient to account for the
present miseries of Ireland, it is this hateful and hated Political
Economy which must bear all the blame of them; about as reasonable as when an orator in Conciliation Hall ascribed them ali
to politics-telling us that it was now the 46th year of the Union;
64




506           POLITICAL ECONOMY OF A FAMINE.
and that such was the state to which that measure had brought
their ill-governed country. This might pass in an assembly of
demagogues and agitators; but it is truly wretched to hear of
such clap-traps in our House of Commons, whether uttered as
fetches for popularity, or in sheer ignorance-an ignorance most
unseemly among those, who, whether men of wisdom and high
talent or not, should at least be men of education.
Let us now endeavor to lay down, with all possible brevity,
what we have termed the Political Economy of a Famine.
A famine may be either general, by which we do not mean a
famine extending over the whole world, but over a whole country; or it may be local, that is, a famine confined to special parts
of the country.
The Political Economy of a general famine might be soon
told; and let us accordingly tell it in as few words as we can,
that more room might be left for what is specially, and at this
particular moment, the matter in hand.
The effect of a scarcity on prices is obvious to all; and even
to most men the reason of this effect is alike obvious. The first
alarm of it induces an earnest competition among the families for
food. There are many other articles of expenditure, the use of
which can be greatly abridged, or even might be altogether dispensed with. But to dispense with food is impossible, and neither
can the use of it be much abridged, without the feeling of a sore
inconvenience. It is thus that a proportion of the money which
in ordinary years went to the purchase of other enjoyments, will,
in a year of' scarcity, be reserved for the purchase of necessaries.
In other words, a greater amount of money is brought to market
than usual, and this over against a smaller amount of food; and
so a rise in its price is the inevitable consequence. It were well
if the rationale of this process could be brought clearly and convincingly home to the apprehensions of all men: and so as that
we could reconcile the popular understanding to the conclusion
which might be drawn from it. In particular it were well if they
could be made to see how far the price of an article is the fiat,
not of the dealers, but the fiat of the customers; or that such is
its price, not because the dealers exacted, but because the customers offered it-insomuch that the collective will of the latter, and
not of the former, is primarily and efficiently the cause of prices.
It is quite palpable that it is the more intense demand of purchasers
which raises prices; and that this calls forth larger supplies, which
is the dealer's part of the operation, and has the direct tendency
to lower them. All this as being part of the alphabet of their
science, is familiar to the economist; nor do we think it impossible
to be made as familiar to the people at large. For this reason we
have long desiderated that Political Economy should hold a preeminent place among the lectureships of a Mechanic School, where




POLITICAL ECONOMY OF A FAMINE.           507
instead of a tyrant or a disturber, it would be regarded, and at
length become a tranquillizer of the commonwealth.
But not only are high prices in seasons of scarcity a present
necessary evil. There is a great ulterior good to which they are
subservient. There are few of any pretensions to scholarship or
general reading, who are ignorant of Adam Smith's effective illustration upon this subject-when he compares a country under
famine to a ship at sea that had run short of provisions, and so
had to put the crew upon a short allowance, who although thus
for the time being made to suffer, were enabled thereby to live
on to the end of the voyage. Such is the precise effect of a high
price, when there is a scanty supply of food in the land. It puts
the country upon short allowance, by operating as a check upon
consumption-when families, that they might get the two ends to
meet, are reduced to their shifts and expedients for the economizing of food. Were it not for this salutary restraint, were the inadequate stock of provisions sold off at the usual price, the consumption would go on at its usual rate; and the premature exhaustion of the food on hand, though it should take place only a
single month, or even a single week before the coming harvest,
would land the country in all the horrors of a general starvation.
We are quite sensible how difficult it were to persuade a hungry
population, nay how provoking it might be when such a lesson is
read out to them in all the pride and confidence of reasoning.
The economist would adventure himself on a very serious hazard
indeed, were he in all the coolness of his argument to attempt
such a demonstration in the hearing of an angry multitude.
Nevertheless it is even so, helplessly and necessarily so, in the
nature of things and by the constitution of human society. The
truth of it is quite palpable within the narrow compass of a ship,
however lost sight of on the wider field of a country. Should one
or more of the sailors intimidate the store-keeper, and force a
larger allowance for themselves, the indignation of the crew, when
it became known, would be directed against the purloiner-on
whom, perhaps, for the general good, they would carry the Lynch
law into effect, and hang him up at the yardarm. Such were the
likely proceeding at sea, but on land they would order the matter
differently. They would hang the store-keeper —for such the
corn-dealer or meal-seller virtually is-who by means of his high
prices deals out their short allowances to the people. It is true,
it is not their good, but his own gain, that he is looking to all the
while. He is but the unconscious instrument of a great and general benefit, which he is not counting on and not caring for. " He
meaneth not so." It is the doing of a higher hand, of Him who
ordaineth both the laws of Nature and the laws of human society;
and who can not only make the wrath of man to praise Him, but
who can make even the selfishness of individuals work out a coun



508            POLITICAL ECONOMY OF A FAMINE.
try's salvation.  "The foolishness of God is wiser than the wisdom of men."
At the same time there is one important modification of this doctrine, which neither Adam Smith nor almost any other economist
has adverted to; and which we state all the more willingly, that
it might serve to restrain the unqualified, and sometimes injurious
confidence, which is now so generally expressed in the virtues of
Free Trade-as if this were to be the grand panacea for all the
ills that can befall a country or a country's population.  What
we refer to is the peculiarities belonging to the necessaries of life,
in regard to the degree of variation which their price undergoes,
as affected by the variation in the quantity brought to market.
The one variation greatly exceeds the other. For example, sa
small a diminution as one-tenth in the grain of a country would
induce a much larger augmentation of its price. so as to make it
perhaps one-third dearer than before. The deficiency of a third
in the crop would probably more than double the price of grain,
while if approaching to one-half, it would infallibly land us in
famine prices.  It is thus that in articles of prime necessity the
price describes a much larger are of oscillation than does the
quantity, or fluctuates far more widely and beyond the proportion
of those fluctuations which take place in the supply. And the
principle of this is obvious. Men can want luxuries and even
comforts; but they cannot want necessaries. They can limit
themselves to a much greater extent in the use of the former than
in the use of the latter.  Should the crop of sugar be deficient by
one-third, they could, if they chose, easily put up with one-third
less of sugar-so that there might be no rise of price, and the
whole loss incurred by the deficiency would fall upon the planters.
Should the crops of grain be deficient by one-third, men could not
so easily put up with one-third less of bread; and, rather than this,
would make a larger outlay for food than usual, so that more
money might come into market for less of the article, and, instead
of loss, there would be gain to the farmers. It is thus that, generally speaking, the keener competition in years of scarcity for the
necessaries of life, causes the deficiency to fall with redoubled
pressure on the consumers, who have both less to eat and more
to pay for it.
It is not then exactly, and in all cases, true-that the interest
of the dealers coincides to the full with the interest of the public;
or that the former will take care to sell at prices sufficiently low
for there being enough of consumption to carry off their stocks,
and so as not to be landed in such a surplus at the end of the agricultural year, as with the supplies of the coming harvest might
cause that grain shall be a drug upon the market. The truth is,
and on the strength of the principle just explained, that if, instead
of reserving a surplus, they had agreed to destroy it, such high
prices might have been maintained throughout the year on the




POLITICAL ECONOMY OF A FAMINE.           509
reduced quantity brought to market, as that the dealer should be
more than indemnified. The elevation of price would more than
compensate for the reduction in the quantity-so that could they
agree in doing what the Dutch merchants are said to have done
with their spiceries, lay aside a certain general surplus to be
burned or cast into the sea, it might be greatly more than made
up for by the enhanced prices which they would obtain for the
remainder. But then the difficulty, or in the corn trade, the
impossibility, lies in getting them to agree. What might be
effected by a small party of monopolists, is utterly beyond the
power of a general combination on the part of dealers spread
over a whole empire, and acting without any adequate control or
cognizance of each other's operations. Our great security, then,
in all our larger markets, and wherever there is enough of competition among parties acting separately, and out of sight from
each other, is the difficulty of combination. It is in these circumstances that the doctrine of Free Trade might be practically carried forth in its utmost perfection-and this with the greatest
possible advantage to the community at large. The commerce
might be left, or to use a still stronger word, might be abandoned
with all safety to its own operations. And all which Government
has to do is this-refraining from those interferences by which it
has so often done mischief-to remove those obstructions which
itself may have placed in the way either of arrivals from all
parts of the country, or of arrivals from all parts of the world.
YTet there is one important exception, peculiarly applicable to
the state of matters at present, and but for this indeed we should
not have lengthened out our article by any explanation of it.
The argument in favor of Free Trade, and against the interference of Government, requires, not only that there shall be an
unshackled competition, but that there shall be enough of it.
Now there are many places in our land, and more especially in
that part of it on which the present calamitous visitation has
lighted, where this postulate is altogether wanting-as in sequestered villages, or small and remote islands, where a single mealshop might suffice for all the customers within its range. Now it
is in these circumstances, that one or even a small number of
dealers, if but few enough to lay their heads together, could easily
so manage as to realize the most unconscionable profits. They
have but to impose their own prices, and they have the people at
their mercy. It is true they might in this way greatly limit the
consumption, to the severe hardship and suffering of all the families, and it may be with some deaths by starvation to the bargain; but although they should thus abridge the sales, they
would, if there be truth in our principle, greatly more than make
up for this to themselves by an overpassing enhancement of the
prices. They might sell one-third less than at a fair price they
would have done, but this by a doubling of the price, and so a




510          POLITICAL ECONOMY OF A FAMINE.
tripling or quadrupling of their own profits. Yet notwithstanding this cruel monopoly of theirs, we would not just hang them
up at their own doors; but, with all deference to the Free Trade
principle, should not object if a Relief Committee made free to
take the business for a time out of their hands, by importing grain
and selling it at the cost prices. This were in the face of all principle in those places where there is enough of competition, both in
the retail and wholesale business. But what is at all times sound
doctrine for London or Liverpool might in particular emergencies be the very reverse for Owenmore or Tobermorv-in the
former of which places, we learn fiom a private source that rice
has been selling at 36s. per cwt., when in Dublin it was selling
for 24s.; while in the latter, it appears from one of the volumes
under review, and on the information of Sir Edward Coffin, that
the people were " much gratified with the prospect of obtaining
the needful supplies through the intervention of the Government,
and at cost price, instead of being obliged to make their purchases
at Glasgow or Liverpool, or to pay the exorbitant prices exacted
by the few local dealers."-(P. 53 of Scotch Correspondence).
There is no disparagement in this to the wisdom of the very
enlightened Resolutions on the part of the North Leith Parochial
Board, when the recommendation was laid before them of laying
in stores of provisions; and they very properly decided against
it, on the ground "that the saving of the retailer's profits would
be nothing to the advantage of their funds." But while very true
that the competition in such a place as Leith is a sufficient guarantee against extortion, we believe that what Captain Pole tells
us of Skye is just as true,-even that "the dealers there had
raised the price of food exorbitantly;" or, as he expresses it in
one of those admirable summaries wherewith he closes his letters,
that "the market is destroyed locally by the famine prices of the
dealers." We therefore fully sympathize with Mr. Rainey, the
patriotic owner of the island of Raasay, when he complains that',his people, who are obliged to go to market at Portree, are
charged exorbitantly for every article." And hence, too, the
Marquis of Lorne, who, fully aware of what the sound Political
Economy is on the general question, writes thus to Sir George
Grey, the Home Secretary, "That interference with the'ordinary channels of trade' is in itself objectionable there can be no
doubt; but when there is just ground to fear that those channels
will not convey to any district a sufficiently accessible supply
of food, it becomes one of those cases of necessity which demand extraordinary measures. The fact is that, as regards the
most distressed districts of the islands and western coasts, these'channels of trade' have never been cut."-(Scotch Correspondence, p. 26.) The wisdom, therefore, which we have just ascribed
to the North Leith Resolutions, does not conflict with the equal
wisdom of the Argyleshire Resolutions, in which we find it




POLITICAL ECONOMY OF A FAMINE.                511
stated, that "there are localities where, from the great redundancy of population, and great scarcity of food, distance from
market, and the nature of the occupation of land, it is practically
impossible to command a supply sufficient; that, under these circumstances, Government should be requested to establish stores
of food in the localities alluded to. such as Oban or Tobermory,
so as to be accessible to proprietors to be purchased by them."
Yet what was thus requested and rightly for the Hebrides, was
deprecated and just as rightly, for the Shetland isles-where the
framers of a truly enlightened memorial tell us that they wanted
no interference with the retail dealer, on whom their ordinary
supplies depend, because they felt assured " that it may safely be
left to mercantile enterprise and competition, to import a sufficient quantity of food at the cheapest rate, provided the means
for paying such can be afforded to the people."*-(Scotch Correspondence, p. 154.) It is a matter of selection, and dependent
on the circumstance of each locality, whether there should be a
Government depot or not; and in these islands, as we are afterwards informed, there was no occasion for one, because there
was there enough of competition from the frequent interchanges
that took place between Lerwick, the capital of the group, and
various ports in the south. To point out the exceptions to a doctrine is often a higher effort of discrimination than to understand
the doctrine itself. And so we can imagine a number of newfledged economists in the metropolis parroting over their last
gotten lesson of Free Trade, and contending that in every instance the supply of what is needed should be left to private
speculation and individual enterprise." And we do admit that
the general principle is a sound one. Yet we rejoice in the practical good sense which led to the actual instances of a deviation
from it in the west of Scotland, and still more throughout Ireland
-thus carrying it over a philosophy which has not yet learned to
take proper cognizance of its own limits, or to distinguish aright
between what are and what are not its legitimate applications.
But we must not linger thus at the threshold; but, keeping in
remembrance our allotted limits, enter at once on our main subject, not of a General, but of a Local Famine. This is the character of our present visitation. One-fifth, perhaps one-fourth of
our people, now labor under the almost total privation of what
constituted their main food. It is not that the other ordinary articles of agricultural produce, besides what themselves eat, are not
raised upon their territory. But these are generally sold off; and
the price of them reserved for the payment of rent, and the pur* Let the reader mark the importance of this last proviso. It is but doing the things
by halves to establish depots in such places as Skibbereen or Schull, where, if the food
was only to be distributed by purchase, yet the people were not provided with the means
of paying for it, they behooved to die in hundreds, although within sight of plenty.




512           POLITICAL ECONOMY OF A FAMINE.
chase of a few indispensable necessaries. In as far as the rent is
helped out by the sale of their potatoe-fed pigs, this too has entirelv failed them-so that the revenue of the landlords has been
greatly impaired while the subsistence of the peasantry has utterly
gone. Behold, then, several millions of people thus circumstanced
-the great bulk of them in Ireland, with one-quarter or one-third
of a million in the Highlands of Scotland-without food and without the money to purchase it.
Meanwhile the rest of our people, amounting to three-fourths or
four-fifths of the whole, have been living in the enjoyment of their
wonted abundance. We ground this assertion, not on any reckoning of last year's crop, which some contend to have been above
and others somewhat beneath an average. We ground it on the
palpable fact, that although the price of their staple food be high,
the general rate of wages, both throughout England and in the
Lowlands of Scotland is proportionally higher. We can find no
such record of the wages in different kinds of employment from
year to year, as we have of the prices of different kinds of food.
Yet though in defect of all arithmetical statements on the subject,
we might confidently affirm notwithstanding, that the workingclasses, in all those parts of the country where there is but a partial and limited dependence on potatoes, are comparatively well
off-we mean comparatively not with our starving Irish or Highlanders, but comparatively with themselves in other and ordinary
years. They at this moment, generally speaking, have fully their
usual command over the necessaries of life-while no one will
deny, that, on ascending upwards in the scale of society, we witness as full a command over its comforts and luxuries; and that
in the splendor, and profusion, and varied gratifications of the
affluent and higher classes there is no abatement.
These then are the data upon which our questionis founded —a
territory consisting of two parts, whereof the one, being much
the smaller of the two, is famine-stricken to the extent of several
millions being in total want both of food and of money to buy it
with; and the other, of about four times larger population, is in
the full enjoyment of at least its wonted or average abundance.
And'the question is, In these circumstances can all be kept alive;
or by what process of supply and distribution is it possible to
avert so dreadful a catastrophe as that a single human creature
shall perish of hunger?
This is truly the matter in hand, the first and foremost of all
the things which have to be provided for, the instant cry and demand of humanity, admitted and felt in all quarters to be the paramount object, and by none more honestly and intently we believe than by the Government themselves and the leading officials
whom they employ. This appears in every page of their pub11shed Correspondence, the perusal of which would serve in the
mind of every candid reader greatly to mitigate the charges which




POLITICAL ECONOMY  OF A FAMINE.                      513
have been preferred against the heartlessness of our Rulers and
the cold-bloodedness of their Political Economvy.  "The condition of the people in the smaller and more remote islands, who
may be overtaken and overwhelmed before their destitution is
known or provided for, will require special attention."' "The
population must be fed."t  " The people cannot under any circumstances be allowed to starve."t The italics are in Mr. Trevelyan's own hand, whose humanity and intelligence, and the
skilful adaptation of whose counsels to the ever varying cases on
which his judgment was called for, cannot be too highly appreciated.  Into whatever mistakes his constituents may have fallen,
or whatever their want of boldness and decision in the encounter
with those oppositions to which they may have too easily given
way-certain it is, both of him and of them, that their predominant
feeling all along has been earnestness for the preservation of human life. To achieve this is, clearly and undoubtedly, what they
would if they could, and if they knew but how.
And yet how has the matter actually sped? The number of
deaths, and this too in their cruellest and most appalling form,
has been quite fearful. We know not, if since the dawn of modern
civilization, there has been such a record of starvation in any
country within the limits of Christendom. On this distressing
subject, it were endless and quite unnecessary to go into detailalthough we have by us a very large collection both of newspaper and private informations, thinking at the outset that these
might be required to authenticate our statements. Our feeling
now is, that in a thing so palpable and notorious, all authentication is quite uncalled for. We have read of the Indian and
Chinese famines which carried off their millions; but such tragedies on the great scale, and so near home, have not been realized
amongst us for many generations.~ And we feel not merely that
* The Lord-Advocate.    t J. R. Macdonald, Esq.     T Mr. Trevelyan.
~ With every allowance for newspaper exaggerations, the melancholy evidence is now
too palpable to be resisted of their general truth upon the whole. In the large miscellany of extracts with which we have been favored, the one perhaps which has taken
the most powerful hold of our memory, is the account of Captain Caffin's visit to Schull.
Of all the traits which are given in these numerous discriptions, to us the most painfully
affecting is when visitors have been attracted to the miserable cabins by the cries of
famishing children inside; and horror is superadded to compassion when, on the occasion of some of these entries into the houses of the dying, we read of the unnatural
fights that had been going on between the nearest relatives for the last remaining morsel
of food. The details of a recent field of battle covered over with the wounded and the
dead, are not so frightful as the details of a famine. Our allotted pace absolutely forbids
the introduction of these; but let us present the following from one of the several hundred slips which lie before us.
" Limerick, Friday, March 5. I
" County Crown Court.
"MELANCHOLY INSTANCE OF DESTITUTION.
" William and Margaret Casey, a miserable couple, whose wretched appearance called
forth the commiseration of the entire court, were indicted for stealing one sheep, value
ten shillings, the property of Arthur Hassett, at Castle Roberts, on the first of March.
65




514            POLITICAL ECONOMY OF A FAMINE.
our sense of humanity, but that our sense of national honor is
affected by it-for the question still recurs, Might these starvations already past have been prevented; or can they yet be prevented for the future, and how?
It might help us to resolve this question, did we imagine the
famine to have been of another sort than that by which we have
been actually visited-and this with a view to trace the effects of
it.  Let us conceive then for a moment, not that it had been
greater than our present famine in regard to its degree, but that
exactly of the same amount, it had only varied from  it in regard
to its distribution. One can easily figure of this sad scarcity, that
without being greater on the whole, it had been more equally
spread-or that, instead of being concentrated upon only one of
our crops, so as to have nearly destroyed the principal food of
one-fourth or fifth of our people, it had been shared among all the
crops, and this to the effect that all the staple foods throughout the
British islands had been reduced to one-fourth of their usual quantity.  At this rate our Irish and Highlanders, instead of having
lost nearly the whole of their potatoes, would still have threefourths left to them-while our Lowlanders would have been
obliged to put up with three-fourths of their usual supply of oatmeal, and the English with three-fourths of their wheaten loaves.
In other words, instead of an intensely local, we should have had
a general famine, of lighter because of equalized pressure over all
our population. And this seems to have been very much the
state of matters in the severe, yet generally diffused scarcities of
1800 and 1801-the average price of wheat in the latter of these
two years having been t5, 19s. 6d. a quarter, whereas at present
it has not averaged since November much more than 70s. per
quarter; and certain it is, that at the actual rate of wages for the
last twelve months, the great majority of our people, throughout
the great majority of our land, have not been reduced to the necessity of any hard economical measures, but lived up to their
usual rate of sufficiency and fulness. It was quite different at the
commencement of this century-when we might with perfect
safety affirm that there was an equal deficiency of food upon the
whole to what there is at present, but more equally divided, and
so borne in like proportion throughout all parts of the country.
Mr. Fleetwood, Clerk of the Crown.-' What sayyou to this indictment, William Casey,
are you guilty or not.' Prisoner.-' We are guilty, my Lord; two of our children died
of starvation, and we had nothing to eat for the other three creatures! Sir David Roche
knows me, my lord.' (Here the prisoners burst into tears, which much affected the
learned judge.) Sir David Roche, High Sheriff.-' Indeed, I knew the poor man for
many yjears; and I am sure nothing but the brink of starvation would have led him to
be guilty of the act. Two of his children died.' Prisoner.-' They did, my lord, with
the hunger.' Mr. Sergeant Stock.-' And where are the other three children-what
has become of them?' Both prisoners, in tears. — We don't know, my lord; maybe
they are all dead now!' Sergeant Stock, deeply affected.-' Would you be any service
to them, if you were set at large V  Prisoner.-' I would, my lord.' Sergeant Stock.-' Let them be discharged.'"




POLITICAL ECONOMY OF A FAJITNE.          515
And thus all were put on their short allowance; and we read of
severe privation everywhere, but of starvation nowhere, at least
no such wholesale starvation as now makes Ireland-and we
might add the whole nation of which Ireland is a part —a spectacle to the world. In 1800 and 1801, the system of fewer and
scantier rations was extended over the whole of the ship's company; and at the expense, doubtless, of painful suffering to all,
they were all carried through to the end of the voyage, and after
much of destitution and distress reached the port in safety. In
1847 there is a different arrangement; and with no greater scarcity on the whole than at the former period, we behold the wonted
jollity and abundance along the deck of the vessel, the wonted
luxury under the awnings of the quarter-deck or in the officers'
cabins -while all those wretched men who have their berths in
the forecastle are let to languish and die. Providence equalized
the visitation of about fifty years back; and the consequent equality of distribution which laid the necessity of spare living upon all,
might be regarded as the effect at once of a direct ordering from
God. Providence has laid upon us now, not a heavier visitation
than then, but has laid the full weight of it on the distant extremities of our United Kingdom; and left the task of equalization-if
there be enough of wisdom and mercy below for the accomplishment of the task-to the ordering of man.
But do the means really exist among us for such an achievement as the preservation of all from death by famine? Have we
available resources, notwithstanding the deficiency of our potato
crop, for keeping all our people alive? We have no doubt on the
subject-resources as great certainly, and we think greater than
in 1801, when the universally high prices, far higher in relation to
wages than now, put all upon short allowance; and so all were
borne through, without those mortalities by starvation, or by
diseases consequent on starvation, which are now  going on.
And what a general short allowance did then, it could do stilland not so short, we believe, as that which was weathered and
endured for two years at the beginning of this century. But
greater or smaller, it would equalize, or rather it would tend to
equalize the pressure over all parts of the country. And the
question is, How shall this be brought about? or, By what means,
by what method of going about it, can this equalization, or rather
this approach to an equalization, be effected?
A certain, and we believe a very large approach, is made to it
by spontaneous benevolenee. Such indeed is our faith in the efficacy of this natural provision, that, in ordinary times, we could
fearlessly confide to it the whole care and guardianship of the
poor —we mean not of all the diseased, but of all the merely indigent poor. One of our chief reasons indeed for deprecating the
interference of law in this department of human affairs, is, that it
tends to supersede and lay an arrest on the otherwise effusive




516           POLITICAL ECONOMIY OF A FAMINE.
kindness to the destitute of their relatives and neighbors; and it
is our honest conviction that on the gradual cessation of the compulsory system by a process which has been often pointed out, an
overpassing compensation for the withdrawal of poor-rate allowances would accrue, from the simple restoration to their own
proper and original force of those principles in our constitutionthe law of self-preservation and the law of compassion,-which
have to so great an extent been disturbed in their natural workings by the provisions of a legal and artificial charity. And in
this conviction we have been greatly strengthened and confirmed
by all that we have read and observed on the subject of the
present famines, both in Ireland and the Highlands of Scotland.
For, over and above the countless instances of the poor helping
the poorer, or of neighbors who had little, sharing their scanty
stock with next-door neighbors who had none, till themselves
brought down to their last meal-over and above what has taken
place, and is still taking place in every little vicinity, where compassion within a right acting distance from its objects, and unable
to withstahd the spectacles of imploring agony and distress, leads
to the noblest sacrifices, and this on the part of men and women
in all ranks of society-but, over and above these blissful operations of the home charity, let us contemplate its workings further
off; when, instead of neighbor sharing with neighbor, we behold
country sharing with country, for that the appeals of suffering
humanity, though necessarily becoming fainter and fainter with
the lengths to which they are carried, are still found to tell on the
hearts and the sympathies of other lands. We speak not only
of those broader and more conspicuous streams of liberality
which flow from our great metropolitan committees to those
places which send forth the loudest cry; but also of those numerous and unseen supplies which are sent through the channels of
private correspondence, and are never heard of beyond the parties that are immediately concerned. Why, it is but the other
day when an Irish bank was applied to for the facility of suffering
any English remittances that came its way, to pass without the
usual charge, and it turned out that they had been in the habit
of doing so for months, and that through their one office the sum
of twenty thousand pounds had been handed over either to the
dispensers or receivers of charity. And it is only of late that on
a larger scale, the glorious discovery was made of remittances in
the same way to the extent of two hundred thousand pounds from
Irish emigrants in America to their famishing countrymen.
There is a like movement of generosity, and it is most refreshing
to be told of it, amongst the Americans themselves —all riveting
the confidence that we have ever had in the productiveness and
native power of compassion, adequate, as we think, to every fair
claim of indigence in ordinary times-insomuch, that with a feeling of perfect security we could leave to its sole guardianship and




POLITICAL ECONOMY OF A FAMINE.                 517
care those poor of whom our Saviour hath said, that they are
always with us, would but a cold and withering legislation keep
off its hand, and not overbear the will to do them good.*
But we must not stop longer on this argument. What may
suffice in ordinary, clearly will not suffice for the present overwhelming visitation. There is an imperious call for the Government to come forward-and this not to supersede the liberalities
of the public, but to superadd thereto the allowances of the State;
or rather, for the State to be the principal almoner in such a dire
emergency, and its distributions supplemented to the uttermost by
the charities of the benevolent. At all events, humanity calls for
such allowances as might guarantee in every instance the preservation of life. It is for Political Economy to say, whether there
be funds and stores in existence, out of which such allowances
can be made; and what were the effect of granting them on the
economic state of society at large.
First. then, as to the existence of sufficient stores, we have
good primafacie, and, to speak our own convictions, a conclusive
evidence in the fact, that although there has been an almost total
destruction of food in certain parts of our territory, yet, if instead
of being thus concentrated, the scarcity had been generalized, all
would have been put upon short allowance; but all would have been
kept alive —seeing that throughout the whole of this dreary season,
as far as it has yet gone, at least three-fourths, we should incline
to say four-fifths, perhaps even five-sixths of our population have
been averagely fed. Had the present famine been equalized, the
country could have weathered it more easily than it did the general famine of 1801. And further, not looking, for the present, to
importations from abroad, but looking exclusively at home, the
destruction laid upon food last year by the hand of nature, is not
equal to the destruction laid upon it every year by the hand of
man; so that, could man have been prevailed upon to abstain, for
the time, from the work of a destroyer, the whole deficiency
might from this source alone have been repaired. Had the distilleries been stopped as they were in 1800 and 1801, and as we
believe they would have been now, if the famine, though not
greater in amount, had only been general, this, alone, would have
gone far to repair the deficiency. If, over and above this, the
breweries had been stopped, and so for a season all malting been
put an end to, this would have greatly more than covered the
deficiency.t  A humane and virtuous despotism could and would
* Mark xiv., 7. Our Saviour devolved the care of the poor on the will to do them
good. The law of England makes that which was left to will a matter of compulsion.
t From M'Culloch's Tables it would appear that duties were charged on malt in 1844,
throughout the United Kingdom, to the extent of 37,187,178 bushels, or 4,648,397 qrs.
And from a recent memorial of the Scotch distillers, it further appears that the amount
of spirits distilled from raw corn is about fourteen millions of gallons, the manufacture of
which requres 770,000 quarters of grain, making the whole amount used in breweries
and distilleries to be upwards of five millions of quarters, and this exclusive of the quan



518            POLITICAL ECONOMY OF A FAMINE.
have done it at once. But, as matters stand,'Government would
demur because of the revenue, and the agricultural interest for its
own factitious good would have declaimed against it; and the
popular voice in Britain, we fear, has been lifted up in opposition,
from a public not themselves goaded onri by the agonies of hunger.
For ourselves we should have rejoiced had there been a sufficient
energy at head-quarters to overrule all this-and not the less but
the more, if, by an entire stoppage of the distilleries, the beastly
intoxications of Scotland had been suspended. We should even
have been glad had the malting of our grain, if not wholly abolished, been at least greatly abridged and limited by a heavier taxation —although we should thereby trench upon the more decorous indulgencies of which the working-classes participate so
largely in the beer-shops of England.  As it is, what between the
class interests of our grandees, and the low and loathsome dissipations of our common people, the cry of famishing millions has
been overborne. Altogether, it presents a most piteous and painful contemplation-recalling our old image of the ship, where the
full consumption of all sorts of pastry was suffered to go in the
cabins, and the full allowance of grog was served out to the sailors on the deck, while the wretched occupiers of the forecastle,
perhaps the helots of the company, were left in lingering agony
to live or perish as they may.
But there is the semblance of a public interest in one of the
considerations which have been just alleged against the stoppage
of the distilleries —we mean the damage that would thereby
accrue to the revenue. This brings us from the question of the
sufficiency of stores. to the second question, the sufficiency of
furnds-which latter question, notwithstanding its substantial identity with the former, occupies so distinct and almost exclusive a
place in the reasonings of merchants and financiers and practical
statesmen, as to require that a separate treatment should be
bestowed upon it. And besides, it is in the handling of this question, that we come in sight of the method, the business method, by
which the degree of equalization for which we have been contending can at all be effected-that is, by which adequate supplies might have been transferred from one part of the United
Kingdom to the other, from the region of comparative plenty to
the region of famine, so as to have prevented these horrid starvations; or, in other words, so as to extend that system of short
allowance, by which no doubt we should have stinted the livelihoods of all, in itself an evil certainly, but with the greatly overpassing good that we might have saved the lives of all.
tities consumed in illicit distillation. One quarter of grain is understood to be a large
allowance for each individual overhead of the population. It should be remarked that
the distillation from raw corn is cheifly carried on in England and Ireland, whereas they
chiefly distil from malt in Scotland. Altogether, the amount of grain consumed in reguiar breweries exceeds, by more than three times, the amount consumed in regular or letal distilleries.




POLITICAL ECONOMY OF A FAMINE.                    519
Did we continue to discuss this matter in the terms of our first
question, we should say, let us share with them of our abundance,
and give to these starving creatures the requisite supply of food.
But we are now discussing it in the terms of our second question;
and we therefore say let us give them the requisite supply of
money or means to purchase food. And it is not necessary for
our argument, that in every instance the money should be actually
put into their hands. It might, when given in the form of wages
for work done by the able-bodied.  But when in the form of gratuitous charity, it might be given not to the final recipients, but to
Relief Committees to be expended  for them-because perhaps
they choose, and very properly, to grant all their allowances to
the destitute in food only.  But this is not material to the effect.
In either way the same amount of purchasing power would be
transferred to Ireland-whether placed in the hands of distributing committees, or of the people themselves. And what we particularly want to impress upon our readers is the effect which
this increase of purchasing power must infallibly have upon
prices. Say that Ireland is enabled, in virtue of what is done for
her, to expend in the course of the year ten millions more than
she otherwise could have done, on the purchase of food. Conceive that when Irishmen are left alone, either to live on their
potatoes as in ordinary years, or to die for want of them as in
this tremendous year of famine-that then the expenditure for
food over the United Kingdom is fifty millions; but that when
not left alone, when their wants are supplied to the extent of being enabled to come into the food market with ten millions of
purchase money-then the whole sum  brought to market would
instead of fifty be towards sixty millions.  Let us suppose the full
sixty millions; and then there is no power on earth which could
restrain the prices from rising, and that in the proportion of fifty to
sixty. Let sixty millions of money come in place of fifty into all
the food markets of this country, and meet there with but the
same quantity of food; and then by an uncontrollable necessity,
this is the ratio in which prices behoove to rise. A Government
could, in such a state of things, no more prevent an ascent in the
price of grain, from 70s. to 84s. a quarter, than it could repeal a
law of nature.*
It is thus that, in proportion to the magnitude of our aids to
* The sum of ten millions given to the destitute would not all come back upon the
market for the purchase of food-as so much of it would be reserved by them for the
purchase of second necessaries. And neither when prices had been raised would the old
fifty millions in the hands of the ordinary consumers be expended on grain-for the
effect of the now higher price would be to induce a general economy in the use of it.
And, besides, so far as importation was induced by the rise of price, this would tend to
lessen the rate at which it would advance. Notwithstanding, however, that these various influences must affect the numerical calculation, we trust it is quite palpable that
in proportion as we enlarge our grants to the destitute, they must react on the corn market, so as to raise the price of food all the more, and generalize the short allowance in
virtue of our now having a greater number of customers to share it with us.




520              POLITICAL ECONOMY OF A FAMINE.
Ireland must be the rise of prices-an evil in itself certainly, but
an evil incurred for the sake of a greater good, the preservation
of the lives of our people. Had we let them die, we might have
retained to ourselves the whole benefit of our own average crops,
and at average prices.  We might have gruffly refused to share
with them of our abundance; and in this way could have kept
down prices-an advantage no doubt to us, but no sensible advantage to those millions in Ireland, who, after losing their potatoes,
had lost their all; and so, having no money for the purchase of
other foQd, it signified little to them whether the grain was to be
had at 50s. or at 70s. per quarter. There was no other remedy
for this state of thin(gs, than the transfer either of the meat to feed
them, or of the money to buy it with.  Of these two methods we
prefer that Government should take the latter; and after having
placed the money there, there was no danger but that the merchants would go in quest of it, and so in time the meat would follow.*  It is for this reason  that we confess our partiality  for
much  larger and more liberal grants than have been actually
voted bv Parliament.  We had a longing eye, for example, on
Lord  Bentinck's  sixteen millions, though  not on his railways,
which we could have dispensed with for the present-counting it
much better that the money had all been expended, both on the
enforcement of their current agriculture, and on the extension
of it, that larger breadths of territory might be taken in for the
grain crops of the coming harvest. It is thus that the urgent
demand of Ireland for food would, in the language of the economists have become an effective demand. But then the inevitable
consequences would have been all the larger rise of prices-and
so as to stint our people everywhere, but this in order that they
should starve nowhere.  A most righteous and humane policy we
do think —the only expedient by which we could keep off from
all parts of our land the horrors of extreme  famine-and  yet
which could not by any possibility be carried into effect without
such a rise in the markets, as was sure to bring down all sorts
of contumely and execration upon famine-mongers.
And there is nothing so recondite in this process, but that it
was felt and complained of by practical men. In a newspaper
* Yet it was well that Government dealt to a certain extent in food, and established
their depots in various quarters. tiad they but given the money, the meat might have
followed in time, but in very many places not in due time. Our regret is, that the meat
was paraded in these depots before the eyes of the families at Skibereen and Schull; but
as these had not the money the meat did not reach them. No wonder at the curses
poured by them from their inmost souls on Political Economy. But ere blame can
liaght anywhere, the question must be resolved, on whom did the obligation lie of furnishing the money. Government bestowed a great deal of money-and with the honest
purpose of its descending to the very poorest, but much of it was intercepted by the less
poor, and so the poorest were left to die. The Correspondence on which we have bestowed
much and earnest attention convinces us, that though Government had enlarged its grants
tenfold, the want of preparation and of arrangement and of local agencies was such that
in the disorderly scramble of multitudes for the largest possible share of what was going,
many in the various fastnesses of Ireland would still have died.




POLITICAL ECONOMY OF A FAMINE.             521
speculation of some months back, the warning was held out, lest
by doing too much for Ireland we should be landed in famine
prices ourselves. In a recent petition from Blackburn in Lancashire to the House of Lords, the increase of pauperism there and
in other parts of England is attributed to' the excessive price
of provisions, consequent on the vast drain to Ireland"-a drain,
which behooved to be all the greater, the greater our liberalities
to Ireland, whether in Government grants, or in the benefactions
of private charity. Nay we find one part of Ireland reclaiming
against the subscriptions, made in it for the benefit of other parts
in Ireland; and we are told that the wealthy in Dublin should
leave the care of the poor in the provinces to their own natural
protectors, the owners of the land, and should expend all their
incomes in Dublin itself for the sake of the traders and shopkeepers there-that " the clear and imperative duty of the residents in
Dublin is to expand and not to contract their outlay,"-" to enlarge their expenditure," —" to spend their money freely," —for
that distress at their own doors would ensue from "'a general
extinction of innnocent gayeties." It is on some such ground too,
that an argument is raised for keeping open the distilleries-for
that cows were fed on the refuse of them; and that the citizens
of Dublin could not be adequately supplied with milk, unless we
consented to the wholesale destruction of food for human bodies
by turning it into a poison for human souls. It is thus that in
defence of their own near and partial interests, men will strain at
a gnat whilst they swallow a camel.  And even the distillers
themselves, in the stout defence which they make for their own
manufacture, can tell us, that doubtless the price of grain is raised
by it, but that this is a great public advantage, for that high
prices stimulate the importation from abroad-as if because such a
supply in consequence of our high prices is good, the supply
without such high prices would not be still better. The truth is,
that the stoppage of the distilleries, if accompanied by an enlargement of the grants to the destitute, would have effected for them
the same double benefit on a large scale, which they obtain on a
smaller scale from those benevolent individuals, who retrench the
food of their families, and make over the price of that retrenchment to a charitable fund. It is really not possible in such years
of scarcity that aught like a general or effectual relief can be
made out for the very poorest, without bringing hardship on the
less poor than they, and without the burden of sacrifices more or
less painful on the community at large. Even in the north of
Scotland where the grain was dear, it was right that part of it
should be taken away for the supply of those places where the
grain was dearer, and still more where the people were in greater
want than themselves. It requires a strong as well as a humane
Government to repress the outbreakings of local selfishness.
Nevertheless it is right they should, because right that one and
66




522           POLITICAL ECONOMY OF A FAMINE.:
all in the nation should suffer rather than that any in the nation
should starve.'We repeat that the high price of grain is not a good per se, but
per se an evil. And yet, notwithstanding there might be two
most valid reasons, why, in times like these, this said high price
should gladden the heart of a philanthropist, if he had but the
faculty of looking both far enough behind and far enough before
him. It might either have been produced as the necessary effect
of one good thing which greatly more than compensated the evil,
and ought therefore to be rejoiced in; or it might operate as the
certain cause of another good thing, which not only more than
compensated the evil, but which limited and laid a check upon
the increase of it, and ought therefore to be further rejoiced in.
But let us explain ourselves, with an earnest request at the same
time for the close, even though it should be the painful attention
of our readers to what might be felt by many as our dull argument. And first then it had surely been a good thing, if all those
wretched creatures who have died of starvation, amounting already by the latest computation that we have faith in to a quarter
of a million of human beings, it would surely have been a very
good thing had they all been kept alive. But this could only have
been done either by giving a requisite amount of food to the people, or of money to buy it with —whether this money was put
directly into their own hands, or into the hands, be it of Relief
Committees for the destitute, or of paymasters for the able-bodied,
and who enforced work in return for it. In whichever of these
ways we should have brought no less than four millions of additional customers upon the corn-market-for this is the number, we
are credibly told, who in ordinary years would have lived on
potatoes alone, but who, this year, deprived of their potatoes, have
no other food than grain to subsist upon. And we ask, not at the
mouth of Political Economy but at the mouth of common sense,
how is it possible that the four millions of additional buyers, not
all of course in their own persons but in the persons of their parents or representatives-how is it possible that all these could
have come into the market, and with money in hand too for making good their purchases, without a rise of prices? It is true that
we could have kept provisions low enough for ourselves, much
lower than they are at present, had we just let these people all
die off. But we count it greatly better that they should not all
die, and better still, if we had so enlarged our liberalities that none
of them had died. We observe, at the moment we are writing,
that the Irish papers are in a tumult of delight because of the falling markets, while, contemporaneously with this, the deaths by
starvation are as frequent as ever. It is very well for those who
have any money that prices should fall; but it signifies little to
those who have no money at all, whether the Indian meal should
be selling at 70s. or 60s. a quarter. Now as we are pleading not




POLITICAL ECONOMIY OF A FAMINE.           523
for the less poor, but for the very poorest, we confess that rather
than lower prices along with numerous starvations, we should
like to have higher prices and no starvations. What we want is
that the most wretched occupiers of Ireland's lands should be provided with the pmeans of purchasing food, or having it purchased
for them —even though it should bring the prices up again. The
returning dearness, we most readily admit, were in itself an evil;
but if brought about in this way, we should perfectly rejoice in it
as the symptom and effect of a greatly surpassing good, in that,
though all should suffer, yet none would perish.-Thus much
for a high price of grain viewed as the effect of one good thing.
But it might, and we may indeed say must, be also the cause of
another good thing. Not to speak again of the universal economy
which it induces in the consumption of food, so as to cause that
our scantier stock than usual shall serve by a sparer maintenance
than usual to the coming harvest-let us only reflect on the additions which a high price makes to this stock, by the mighty stimulus it gives to importation. Had any one but watched, as we
have done, the progress and fluctuations of the sensitive cornmarket in America-not however more tremulous and sensitive
there than, by the very nature of the commodity, in all other parts
of the world, and observed how constantly and surely every report of falling prices in this country checked the business of exportation, and even led in some instances, to the relanding of its
cargoes-had it thus been made palpable to him, that they are
our high prices and these alone which have brought and continue
to bring the richly-laden flotillas of the New World to our shores
-this would have mitigated, it is to be hoped, his invectives
against the famine-mongers, and somewhat disarmed his fell and
fierce antipathy to the  "rogues in grain." But let it again be distinctly understood, that we should like it infinitely better to have
the supplies without the high prices; and thus it is that we shall
ever mourn over the non-stoppage of the distilleries, as far the
least defensible part in the policy of Ministers —even though Dublin should have been thereby stinted in milk for its families, and
England been abridged of its beer and brown-stout, and Scotland
reft altogether of its mischievous whiskey. It is utterly beyond
the endurance of human nerves that these indulgences should have
been kept up at their usual rate, or rather for the last twelve-month
to a greater excess of dissipation and drunkenness than everwhile Highlanders all the while have been writhing in the agonies
of extreme hunger, and Irishmen in thousand have been dying.
They seem to have ordered this matter better in France. We
cannot allege aught like precise information on the statistics of
the scarcity there-yet the higher price of grain in France than
in Britain, a fact in itself most pregnant with inference, is fully in
keeping with all that we have heard and all that we conceive of
the state of matters there. As first, that there should be a less




524           POLITICAL ECONO0M.- OF A FAMINE.
deficiency than ours-it amounting to a shortness from  their
usual yearly produce, of forty-five days' consumption, or oneeighth of the whole, whereas ours might be estimated at perhaps
one-fifth and certainly not less than one-sixth of the whole-and
yet with them a higher price notwithstanding. This might be
due in part to theirs being a general, and not as with us a provincial famine; and so an eager competition for food all over, among
those who have the means of purchasing —a very different thing
truly in its effect on prices, from the cry of distress, however
urgent, among those who have not the means. And then the
very generality of the famine intermingles to a greater extent, the
more with the less needy, and so brings them within a better acting distance, both for the excitement and the exercise of compassion. And last of all more ostensibly, though not perhaps mnore
efficiently than either of these causes in its operation upon prices.
is the munificence of the public treasury. As far as the following
private letter can be depended on, all these causes have been
powerfully at work in France, and might account for the higher
prices there. —" Never before, not even during the reign of the
cholera, have charity and benevolence been displayed in a manner so spontaneous, so generous, so profuse, so effective. Money
is contributed, and relief is administered, not with the character
of almsgiving, nor doled out with reluctance and parsimony and
accompanied by reproach, but with a liberality truly admirable."
"One capitalist here expended, it was said, in charity in 1832
(during the presence of the cholera), ~10,000 sterling. His disbursements in this year of suffering, will probably amount to
double that sum. This spirit of benevolence, and this energetic
observance of its dictates, are, however, and happily, not confined
to the wealthy and the great-the whole community participate
in them. Even the soldiery divide their rations with the poor.
There are no subscription lists, nor newspaper appeals to the benificence of those who have to give, no stimulus of any kind.
Every man gives all that he can afford, and does it as a. matter
of course, with a good heart, and without ostentation. The consequence of this general movement will be, that few, perhaps
none, will perish in France of starvation; that is a great matter;
but the struggle to keep up the supply must be gigantic."-It then
tells us of the supplies ordered in the ports of the Baltic and the
Black Sea, and of the United States; and, what is most instructive of all, of the immensely large orders for flour sent to England. And as the effect of all, we are told that they will have no' deaths by starvation" to register; and that the Government, the
capitalists, the clergy, the public, are resolved upon that. It is
of a piece with all this information, that we read of the Baron
Rothschild's undertaking, in concert with the French Government,
to the extent of millions for the importation of food from America.
It will perhaps reconcile our own public to high prices, when thus




POLITICAL ECONOMY OF A FAMINE.                      525
made to perceive that had they been sufficiently high, it would
have proved a defence against the exportation of British grain to
France, besides enabling us to cope on more equal terms with
France in our competition for the grain of other countries. We
are aware of the cry that there is to prohibit exportation; but we
should like it better that it were prevented rather than prohibited,
and this by the largeness of our home prices, provided it were
brought about as in France, by the largeness of our home charities. We should have acquiesced all the more willingly in Lord
John Russell's free-trade reply to the demands for prohibition,
had he so far enlarged the national grants as to have raised our
prices beyond the reach of customers from France. We confess
that to put matters right both in Ireland and in our Highlands, we
had a longing eye on Lord George Bentinck's sixteen millions,
barring his railways-nay could have acquiesced in Mr. O'Connell's thirty millions,* rather than that the whole civilized world
should have been so scandalized by the great national outrage
upon humanity which has been perpetrated within our own shores.
But we must not be carried away by the first aspect of things.
Indeed we should prefer that if possible there were no reckonings
with any party for the past, excepting for the practical objects
of guidance and safety for the future. Certain it is, that the more
we read of this voluminous correspondence, the less are we inclined to lay upon Government the guilt of these starvations.
What we shall ever regret, as far the worst of the charges to
which they have been exposed is that, whether for the sake of
the revenue or in deference to the agricultural interests, they
should after such awful tragedies have tolerated that wholesale
destruction of human food, which goes on in our distilleries.  Yet
even this would not have prevented the spectacles of horror that
have taken place in Ireland. There were difficulties which all
the wealth of the Indies could not have surmounted; and we must
* Mr. O'Connell, in a letter of February 13th, to Mr. Ray, writes thus-" Parliament
is not disposed to go far enough, there will not be sufficient relief given by the Parliament; and it will not be till after the deaths of hundreds of thousands that regret will
arise that more was not done to save a sinking nation." Mr. O'Connell's predicted num.
ber of deaths has already been fully realized. Yet we cannot be blind to the fact that
many not wholly destitute did thrust themselves upon the public works to the exclusion
of as many who were altogether without the means of subsistence; and hence a number
of the actual starvations. The allowances doubtless were a good deal too small. It was
not enough that men should have been kept from dying. They should have been kept'from wasting into skeletons. We should therefore have rejoiced in much larger grants,
but still cannot rid ourselves of the persuasion, that although they had been increased
threefold, still there would have been many deaths by hunger-first from the want of
local agencies in Ireland, and secondly from the interception of the supplies by those
who were less poor, so as not to reach them who were poorest. See Captain Wynne's
Letter, Irish Correspondence, Board of Works Series, Second Part. p. 15.
In Saunders' News-Letter of April 5th, we read that " the 20 per cent. reduction (of
the men employed in the public works in the pay of Government) works well, insomuch
that it has put off many persons who were able to support themselves." Such men
might be looked upon as the causes of the deaths by starvation of those who were excluded from the places which they had no right to occuop. It was very shameful.




526           POLITICAL ECONOMY OF A FAMINE.
take a calm and comprehensive view of these ere we can admit
that in France there is either a larger-hearted Government, or a
more generous people than our own.
But still we contend that the want of money ought never to
have been felt as one of these difficulties.  We have already
stated our conviction that there was enough of food, even within
the limits of the United Kingdom, whereby, though at the expense
of a shorter allowance to the whole and the abridgment of certain luxuries, we might have mitigated, to a far greater extent
than we have done. those extreme sufferings which have been endured, and are still felt, throughout the famine-stricken parts of
our territory.  We now affirm with equal confidence, that we
could have raised enough of means for the purchase of that food.
We do not ourselves think that there is any natural necessity for
a distinct argument on each of these topics. But the necessity
is forced upon us by certain mystifications, or factitious difficulties, which are conjured up to the effect of obscuring the subject.
We are told, for example, by Sir Robert Peel, in his opposition to
Lord George Bentinck's proposal for raising the sum of sixteen
millions, that it could not be done by loan without too violent a
disturbing of the money-market-a consideration, we believe, not
very well understood by the vast majority of those to whom it
was addressed, but all the more fitted on that account to silence
them, seeing that the whole mechanism of our Stock Exchange,
and monetary system, stands at as great a distance from all ordidinary and many superior understandings, as do the very highest
themes of high transcendentalism. For ourselves we should have
been willing to brave the hazard of disturbing, however violently,
the money-market-rather than not have met the exigencies of
our present visitation. But there is another and a better expedient, suggested too by Sir Robert himself, and which if fully acted
on would help us out of this whole difficulty. When speaking on
Lord George Bentinck's motion, and of the deficiency incurred
by the outlay on Ireland, he tells us "that he knew no other
method of providing for this assumed deficiency (nine millions),
except that of making a vigorous effort at direct taxation, to be
visited he presumed upon all parts of the United Kingdom." We
most sincerely rejoice that he made this suggestion, and still more
that it was received with loud cheers by the ministerial side of
the House. But could not the same direct taxation which is to
make up the deficiency so many months hence, could it not have
prevented the deficiency by providing against it beforehand?
And if by dint of vigor it can raise the nine millions, can it not
by dint of greater vigor raise twenty or thirty millions, if indeed
and rightfully called for? We think that it can; and that Great
Britain has not aroused herself to an effort at all commensurate
to the wants of this awful crisis, or commensurate to her own
wealth. Rather than that this should not be done, we would ac



POLITICAL ECONOMY OF A FAMINE.                  527
quiesce in a loan with all its alleged inconveniences and evils;
but our clear preference, and for more reasons than we can at
present explain, is for direct taxation.
We first observe, then, of these two great rival methods for
raising a public revenue-that is, either mediately by a duty upon
commodities, or immediately and directly by a tax whether on
property or income —it is obvious that each has its own distinct
and peculiar limit. In regard to the former way of it, it is easy
to perceive that each addition to the duty lays a further check on
the consumption of an article. The dearer that wine is made by
taxation. the less of wine will be drunk. It is thus that the winetax, with every new addition to the impost, tends to limit more
and more the wine-trade till at length it ceases, notwithstanding
the higher duties, to be so productive as before. It is at this point
that the produce of tile tax reaches its maximum, beyond which
it cannot be carried without loss to the revenue-so that now the
wine-trade is made to yield its uttermost to the National Treasury. But the limit in direct taxation, such as an income tax,
shoots greatly ahead of this.  It is tirue that the further it is carried the less will subjects have to spend, and the consumption of
every article which can be dispensed with will be all the more
restrained. One can imagine in the consequent abridgment which
must take place on the use of luxuries, that the consumption of
wine might be limited, not merely to the point where it before
yielded the greatest possible revenue to the State, but very much
within this-nay, that men might cease to drink it altogether, and
so the wine-trade be annihilated. It is palpable, however, that
as the effect of this process, a greater revenue might accrue to
the State than ever-for, over and above all which it ever realized by a tax on the commodity, it, by seizing on the whole price,
gets hold not only of that part which furnished the tax, but the
natural price of the wine to the bargain. The rapidly intuitive
Charles Fox, when himself a Minister of State, had his eye upon
this enlargement, and tells us in one of his speeches, that the only
limit to the produce of an income-tax, was the reduction of all the
families in the land to the necessaries of life-a proposition this,
however, which, to be guarded against all exceptions, would require to have some modifications laid upon it, for the statement
of which we have no room at present.
But the abridgment, and still more the destruction, of trade,
* We have explained elsewhere our views upon taxation, and the reasons of our preference for a tax on property or income to a tax upon commodities. Our own opinion,
and that on grounds altogether distinct from those of the French economists, is that all
taxes fall ultimately upon land. It will be very long however before the public will be
convinced, or Parliament will act upon this principle. Meanwhile, we hail every approximation to what we deem the optimism of this subject. It would mightily advance
the cause, and make direct taxation greatly more popular, were it carried into Sect by a
small centage on property, rather than by a centage twenty times larger on intome-in
other words were the tax on property alone, and not at all on income.




528           POLITICAL ECONOMY OF A FAMINE.
which we have represented to be the tendency and effect of direct
taxation, carries in it a frightful aspect to many an imaginationas if on the decay and extinction of trade, the whole power and
superiority of Britain were to decay and vanish along with it.
There is an inveterate delusion here, and yet which a very simple
consideration should put to flight. No manufacture, or no trade,
yields more for the good of a nation, than just the commodity
which it produces, or in which it deals. The wine-trade yields
nothing but wine. The whole amount of what the stocking manufacture renders to society is stockings.  Our various export
commodities, the preparation of which gives employment to so
many of our people, contribute nothing more to the public interest
than just the import articles which come back in return for them,
as oranges, or figs, or India shawls, or tea, or coffee, or rum, or
sugar. We are aware that the work of procuring all these things,
whether to array with them our persons or to lay them upon our
tables, gives rise to a commerce which is dignified with the name
of so many interests, as the manufacturing interest, and the shipping interest, and the East or West India interest. But let not
the magnificence of these titles impose upon us, or lead us to
imagine that any one branch of commerce yields more for the
well-being of the community than merely its own articles. But
does it not, over and above, afford their maintenance to the people engaged in it? No, it gives them their employment but not
their maintenance. This maintenance lies enveloped, not in the
article which they produce, but in the price which is paid for it.
It comes, as it were, from the other side of the exchange-not
from the manufacturers who work up the article, or the traders
who bring it to market, but from the customers who pay the price
for it. The perpetual tendency is to accredit every particular
trade both with its own proceeds and with the returns which they
bring; and the most egregious example that can be found of this
delusion is in that most mercantile of all politicians, William Pitt,
who at the commencement of the revolutionary war prophesied
the ruin of France's power from the ruin of her commerce, in the
loss of which he could perceive nothing else than the loss of all
her means for the payment and maintenance of armies. It was
the destruction of her commerce which gave her her armies. She
lost by it the luxuries which commerce yields; but the maintenance of the workmen whom commerce employs still remained
with her. The effect was to transform millions of artisans and
operatives formerly in the pay of individual consumers, into as
many soldiers, afterwards in the pay of the state. From the
earthquake which ingulfed her commerce, there suddenly sprang
forth a host of armed men whom no man could number, who in
a feiwmonths cleared her territory of all its invaders, and in a
few years achieved the subjugation of all continental Europe to
the bargain. The levies and conscriptions of France at that pe



POLITICAL ECONOMY OF A FAMINE.                  529
riod should have taught our statesmen long ago what that is
which constitutes the real strength and resources of a kingdom.
The lesson we think is now beginning to dawn on the minds of
certain of our statesmen, more especially of Sir Robert Peel, who
already in a small way has made prosperous trial of vigorous direct taxation, and would recommend for a time at least, the further extension of it, to meet the exigency of our Irish and Highland famines. It is our deep-felt conviction that did Britain but
know the might and the magnitude of those resources wherewith Providence has blessed her, she would not so quail and
falter and be in sore perplexity before her present visitation. Had
she but the full consciousness of her hand of strength, she would
put it forth; and make the grand comprehensive effort so feelingly
and forcibly called for by the honest jurymen of Dublin-and, not
by one measure only, but by a series of measures, accomplish
both the new-modelling of our Highlands, and the reconstruction
of Ireland, and this at one tithe of the expense which she has lavished on many of her wars.*
Let us imagine that, among the many things to be yet done for
Ireland, there behooved, perhaps for years to come, to be a large
importation of food from abroad, and this to provide against the
unavoidable deficiencies which must arise from the neglected
agriculture of the present year, and which may continue for several years to come ere the difference can be made good between
a grain-fed and a potato-fed population. It seems quite clear
that without such extraordinary supplies, we shall have again and
again to incur the misery and disgrace of those hideous starvations which have scandalized the world-and all the more that
thev took place in one portion of the United Kingdom, while in
the other portions of it the people from high to low were in circumstances for giving full swing, or at least to an extent as great
as usual, to all sorts of luxurious and even riotous indulgence. And
it seems equally clear that the whole expense of these supplies
cannot be left, whether through the medium of grants to the helpless or of wages to the able-bodied beyond the value of their labor,
cannot be left on the landlords, without entailing such an amount
of ruin upon the order, and filling them with such a sense of despair, as to aleniate from all co-operation, that body of men,
* A direct taxation for the special object of putting Ireland and our Highlands right
might be spread over several years of a transition process —just as among our city taxes,
there often comes, and for a length of time too, a special charge for improvements-and
which continues to be levied till they are all paid for. It were a noble exhibition of
Patriotism and public virtue would Parliament venture on such an imposition and the
people willingly respond to it. Our own preference would be for the graduation of such
a tax and in this way-to lay no tax on any income below ~50, and then to tax all abovethis, not by laying the centage on the whole income, but only upon the excess above
~50. Thus a tax of 5 per cent. would amount to 10s. on all who had ~60 a year, to
20s. on all who had  70 a year, &c. The produce of such a tax, if wisely administered,
might transform both Ireland and. the Highlands into prosperous countries in the course
of a few years.
67




533           POLITICAL ECONOMY OF A FAMINE.
through whom alone we can obtain such local agencies, as are
indispensable for giving effect to the measures which have yet to
be decided on, ere Ireland shall be conducted with safety and
general advantage through the difficulties of her present crisis.
Let us therefore hope that Government will feel the duty of lending their helping hand in this great national emergency; and that,
to be enabled for doing so, they will have recourse to a vigorous
direct taxation, both to meet a far larger prospective expense
than they have yet contemplated, and to provide for the deficiency
of the past expenses which have already been incurred. On the
principle that we have just announced, the people of our land are
fully able for such an effort and such a sacrifice, provided only
that those of them who have more than the necessaries of life
to live upon, are able to forego a part of their luxuries. And this
we contend is the single, the only inconvenience, that would be
suffered, had we only the boldness to face the present exigency
in all its magnitude, and the determination by means and measures of commensurate magnitude rightly and fully to dispose of
it. The tax-payers would drink less wine than before, in which
proportion there behooved to be an abridgment of the wine-trade;
but perhaps it will satisfy the worshippers of commerce as our
all in all, to be told that in very proportion the corn-trade might
be extended; and our alarmists for the shipping interest to be told,
that the same, nay a far greater amount of shipping, is required
for the importation of grain than of the costlier articles which
come to us from abroad. It is demonstrable that in the consequent state of things which would ensue from a heavy direct taxation on all above the working-classes, we should behold as great
a population as fully employed and as well maintained as before;
and that the whole effect of this altered direction in the expenditure of the country's wealth, were the loss of certain personal indulgences to the higher classes, but with the gain it might be in
return for it of nobler objects-as the defence of a country against
foreign invasion, or the establishment of a better economy within
its borders.  We have long advocated the law of primogeniture,
and can sympathize with the pleasure and the pride which were
felt by Edmund Burke, in the glorious aristocracy of England.
But nothing, we are persuaded, would more conduce to the stability of their order-nothing remove further the evil day, when
their candlestick shall be taken out of its place-than their willing
surrender though but in part of such enjoyments as might well be
suspended, to the demands of patriotism and the public weal.
This willingness can only have its full expression and effect by
the collective voice and through the organ of Parliament. They
may provide for the stupendous design of setting up a right economy in Ireland by loans; and we should rather they did, than
that Ireland should be left as hitherto to flounder on as she best




POLITICAL ECONOMY OF A FAMINE.            531
may. But our own decided preference is for a vigorous and direct taxation.
But ere we carry our proposals any further, let us here advert
to the probable effect which the establishment of the Free-Trade
system is likely to have for a season on our economists and statesmen. The imagination is, that it will enlarge indefinitely the
powers of commerce; and so the tendency in men's minds will
be to magnify, we had almost said to deify, commerce all the
more-as if it were the primary source and sovereign dispenser
of all the blessings which serve to strengthen or enrich a nation.
The very famine wherewith we have been visited might serve to
correct and sober down these anticipations; and to convince us
that commerce is not the fountain-head, but that agriculture is
the fountain-head, and commerce but the derivative stream or the
derived and dependent reservoir. Even Dr. Smith, notwithstanding his own masterly exposure of the mercantile system, was so
far carried away by his favorite principle, the more endeared to
him that he himself was its parent and its discoverer, as unduly
to exalt at times the prerogatives and powers of merchandise.
And yet there is one memorable sentence of his which should help
to keep us right-that the great end of all production is consumption. Did we but retain our steady hold of this maxim, and make
at all times the right application of it, it would raise us to a higher
and more commanding position for a correct survey of the whole
question. Commerce would be assigned its true place, if we made
our estimate of its importance to turn on the benefit which accrued from the use of his resulting commodities-if we fixed our
eye on the qui bono, and terminus ad quem, of its various processes. It would reduce Political Economy to its just dimensions,
so that it should no longer monopolize the whole field of vision,
to the subordination or the exclusion of higher interests than its
own. We are hopeful that had this consideration been present
in the mind of Mr. Trevelyan, it would have saved him from the
single error into which we think he has fallen throughout the whole
of a correspondence, characterized all along on his part by signal
ability and the most enlightened economical views-fobr then we
apprehend that he would not in mere deference to the Free-Trade
principle, have advocated as he has done the continuance of distilleries.+  On the question-How is it best that our grain should
be consumed? Better, we shall ever contend, in a crisis like the
present; better in bread to the people, than in liquors for the good
cheer of England, or the nauseous dissipation of Scotland, or even
in the animal food on which Burke grounds his argument in behalfof distillation. Nay, so far do we carry our views on this
matter, we should hold it greatly better that the families in the
metropolis of Ireland were put on bread and water, instead of
* Irish Correspondence (Commissariat Series), pp. 106, 107.




532           POLITIC'~AL ECONOMY OF A FAMINE.
biead and milk or bread with butter on it, rather than that families
in the provinces should be left without bread altogether. We
make every allowance for the want of time and preparation and
precise knowledge throughout the year that is past; but it will be
an indelible disgrace, if in another year the Irish shall be again
left to die in thousands, that the Scotch might luxuriate in spirits,
and the English in their potations of beer as usual.
But we must now hasten to a close-yet not surely, it might
well be thought, without at least breaking ground on the question —What is to be done for Ireland and the Highlands of Scotland?
And we are not ashamed to confess that at present we have no
inclination to do more than break ground upon these questions.
It might be a very lengthened process, and one of very many
steps or stages, by which to come at last to the establishment
of a good permanent economy for either of these countries; and
therefore it might be presumptuous and premature to venture on
an out-and-out description of the whole of it. But though unwilling, and perhaps unable, to furnish a guide-book for all the thousand miles of this way-yet if perfectly sure, though even of but
the first mile, it were doubtless of importance to be told of it,
more especially if at the end of this first mile, we shall be in all
the better circumstances by the way opening before us as we
proceed on it, for ascertaining the ulterior direction of the journey.
It is good, nay indispensable, ere we go forth on an expedition for
some distant landing place, that we should know what is the
right point of departure, and how to make a right outset. The
way to be wrong throughout is to make a wrong commencement.
First, then, we should hold it as a good outset principle that the
question before us is clearly an imperial one, to be prosecuted
and to a great extent carried into effect by imperial means —
though to a certain extent by local means also, and this in as
great a proportion as might secure the vigilance and helpful cooperation of the landowners, by the interest which they are
made personally to feel in their wise and economical administration. We cannot image a worse preparative for any systems
of future ameliorations, than to begin either with such acts or
such refusals as are fitted to strike despair into the hearts
whether of our Highland or our Irish proprietary. Notwithstanding all the ungenerous, and all the flagrantly impolitic abuse
that has been heaped upon them, particularly in Ireland, these are
the parties on whom we must principally draw for good local
agencies, without which Government will be utterly helpless for
the right execution of its measures. But how can we expect
that they will enter with any heart or hopefulness upon the task,
if burdens are to be laid and measures to be adopted, tantamount
in their belief to the confiscation of all which belongs to them?
To decree such a revolution in property as this were to legalize




POLITICAL ECONOMY  0'.4 FANAINE.                       533
a wholesale anarchy, and bring all into confusion. The clear
wisdom of Government is to gain the confidence and good-will
of those who de facto are lords of the soil; and this can only be
done by convincing them that although it will not give way to
indefinite rapacity and clamor, its honest purpose is so to devise
and to regulate as that their country shall be worth the living in,
and their estates be still worth the having.
We exceedingly lament that this principle has been disregarded,
or rather wholly traversed, in the late decisions of Parliament on
the subject of an Irish poor-law.* We should have thought that
there was enough to be done in devising for the present and
pressing exigencies of this awful crisis-how best to provide
relief for the destitute, and to enforce the current agriculture  of
the country, and so to extend it as to compensate for the loss
of the potato.   Amid such urgent and besetting  cares, it seems
to us that it was shooting too far a-head, too far into the prospective, to embark in a hasty and hap-hazard legislation, and
this too in measures of a permanent character —mixing up these
* The following is the testimony of a most unexceptionable and intelligent witness, to
the effect of our new Scottish poor-law in the Highlands. " In regard to the bad feeling on
the part of rate-payers towards the poor, the thing is so notorious in Ross-shire, that you
are welcome to give me as authority for it to any who ask. I know districts where the
poor cottars formerly supported their pauper neighbors most cheerfully, and had the
kindest possible feeling towards them, where a day rarely passed without a call from
some pauper for food or lodging, and in many situations where the burden from these
calls was very great indeed, yet borne without a single thought of complaint. In the
same districts, now, when the legal assessment is in force, where it may not amount to
6d. in ~1 of rent, these same individuals, who under the old system were contributing
perhaps 2s. 6d. for ~1 voluntarily, have come to hate the very sight of a pauper, and
curse them openly and loudly. The very paupers themselves feel the change so much,
that I have known some who have insisted on being put off the roll, for no other reason
than the hatred shown to them by their former kind neighbors." Had it not been for
this recent piece of English legislation, private charity in the Highlands would have
flowed more sweetly and productively than it has done in the present distress. We
may here state what our preferences would have been had there either been no poor-rate
in Ireland; or had the poor-rate been held inapplicable to all cases of destitution which
offered, after that the work-houses were filled. These we should have divided into two
classes, the able, and the not able to work. The former we would have devolved on a
legal fund made up of two-thirds from the Treasury, and one-third from the parties who
whether in town or country are made liable for the poor. The fund thus raised would
of course be expended on the excess of the wages above the value of the work, that value
being paid for by those for whose benefit it was done. The latter class, or the unable to
work, we should have devolved on the spontaneous charities of the benevolent, stimulated by an additional allowance from the Government of pound for pound. Such is a very
general outline of our scheme; and we should be quite willing, that in what regards tlhe
first class, the parties who should support them and the proportions that should fall on
each were regulated according to any other process of adjustment which might be
deemed more advisable. But we hold it of capital importance that the legal and the voluntary should not be compounded into one sum, and expended jointly on the same objects.
Upon this footing the voluntary dwindles into insignificance-whereas if provided with
distinct objects of its own, and these devolved upon it wholly, it would rise with the actual necessities which it had been called upon to relieve, and prove itself equal to the
task.  We have no doubt that under such an arrangement the streams of benevolence
flowing in upon the Voluntary Relief Committees from all parts of the empire would
have adequately met the destitution in this branch of it. One incalculable benefit of such
a division in the work is that it secures most important additions to the agency, and
agency of the best sort too for the weak and the helpless-we mean that of ladies.




534            POLITICAL ECONOMY OF A FAM.INE.
with measures of immediate necessity. If the object was to compel an instant assessment on the land more commensurate to the
existing destitution, could not this have been done by a special
and temporary provision, without making a general and enduring
change on the state of the Irish poor-law? Or is such a season
of perplexity and pressure, when extraordinary visitations should
be met by means alike extraordinary-is this the time for building
up another system  for the ordinary relief of the poor?  Better,
we do think, that emergencies like the present were met by the
operations of some such expedients as did not leave one trace of
themselves upon the statute-book.  We are sensible of an hones;
anxiety on the part of rulers that the destitution should be provided for, but provided for with the lowest minimum of allowances from the Treasury. Of this we have had abundant experience in Scotland. Yet we cannot sympathize with the form
of the complaint, that so little is doing for us, while so much is
doing for Ireland. There is not too much; and it would comport better with the dignity of our great nation, and the amplitude of its resources, that it did a great deal more.  Rather than
that Ireland should fall into the hands of France, we would readily embark in a war of life or death, though at the expense as in
other wars of five hundred millions —yes, and whether by dint
of loans or rigorous direct taxation, we could summon into our
national coffers every farthing of the money. After this, to speak
of its not being a national object, that for a tithe of the sum which
has now been specified, we should put Ireland into a right economic condition, or though at the expense of fifty millions spread
over a few years, we should enter on that regenerate process
by which to transmute our sister country into a prosperous and
smiling land.
It is really not the way to govern a country, or to effect for it
on extrication from its difficulties, that it shall be left to drift
along, the sport and the plaything of merest accidents-for what
else but accidents are those extemporaneous measures which
are suggested on the spur of an occasion; and then further concocted or modified at random amid the impulses and stormy debates of a popular assembly. Better surely than these were the
calmi and leisurely and deliberate inquiries of a Parliamentary
Commission, vested at the same time with administrative functions,
and furnished both with adequate means and adequate powers for
the fulfilment of the objects which are intrusted to it.+ Such a delegated body should have a large discretion and dictatorship given
to it, of defined boundaries no doubt, but still very ample notwithstanding-because with this guarantee for the safety of their pro* Of course when we speak of a Commission vested with the discretionary expenditure of money, we suppose the object of this expenditure to be previously defined by
Parliament, and a certain maximum sum intrusted for the wise and economical fulfilment of them. It may in the first instance be a Commission of Inquiry.




POLITICAL ECONOMY OF A FAMINE.           535
ceedings, the weight and wisdom of those who had been selected
to form it. They in fact should be the most choice men both
of Britain and Ireland, not fixed upon because of any eminence
they had won in the political arena, whether in or out of Parliament, for economics do not form the vocation of such-neither should we very confidently look for a sound economics at
their hand. What we should most desiderate were men in our
sister country, of such a type as Lord George Hill and Mr. Hamilton of St. Ernan, and without expressly naming any similar to
these of our own country, we should greatly rejoice in a sprinkling of the Friends, those men of primitive worth and withal of
c;areful and conscientious business habits, whose mission to Ireland
is one of the noblest achievements in the annals of Philanthropy.
These are the very men who in all the outlays and improvements
could institute a right composition between the Government and
the land owners. The expense on the whole to the State might
turn out to be somewhat greater or vastly less than what we have
ventured to name; but whether great or little, there is one guiding principle they should never lose hold of-and that is to repress the inordinate expectations both of Irish gentry and the Irish
common people, and this on the ground that no people can be
effectually helped who will do little or nothing to help themselves.
The terminus ad quem, in fact, of the whole movement should be to
establish an all-sufficiency for the people in their own industry and
their own good management. It should be a firm while a merciful regime that is to be exercised over them, under which none
of the helpless should be allowed to perish, and none of the ablebodied be exempt from the rule, that " if any will not work neither
shall they eat." All rioting against the piece-work on which they
might comfortably live, if judged to be better for them than the
day's wages on which they might idle and starve-must be vigorously put down. No political economy, however sound, can
be of any avail, when there is a weak Government or a worthless
people. But we hope better things. We have no taste or sympathy for those tirades against the Irish which in the day of their
sore visitation have so disgraced the hostile newspapers of England. Among them are many of the finest and noblest specimens
of humanity; and thousands are the hearts and consciences there
which will most readily accord with a Government resolved upon
their good, though equally resolved not to falter on its path, nor
be driven from the right and the reasonable in the accomplishment
of its beneficent and well-laid plans. Never was there an opportunity of greater likelihood for those measures which might usher
in the future well-being of Ireland. All party and political violence is abated. All factitious grievances are forgotten in the
overwhelming grievance that has been laid direct by the hand
of God on this sorely stricken people. Now is the time for Britain to step forward; and without the surrender either of autho



536              POLITICAL ECONOMY  OF A FAMINE.
ritv or wisdom, to acquit herself generously, openly, freely towards
Ireland-and by her acts of princely but well-directed munificence to repair the accumulated wrongs of many generations.
The chastisements of this dreary period have not been joyous, but
grievous; but thus might they be made to yield the peaceful
fruits of righteousness to those who have been exercised thereby.
But ere that we bid adieu to the subject for the present, let us
be somewhat more specific. They who have read the concluding
article of our last Number will have acquired from it some idea
of the manifold rectifications and adjustments that must be made,
ere the confusion can  be unravelled which obtains in the state of
landed property throughout Ireland, and in all the tenures by which
it is held. We are aware of a commission upon this subject, the
report of whose labors, however, we have not yet seen. But the
Commission that we would have, should  have a great deal more
to do than to investigate. It should be furnished with means to
aid the disencumbrance of the land. For example it might assist
the minor proprietor by loan or otherwise to effect an equitable
compromise with those who possess a tenant-right to very small
holdings. Or it may help him to emigrate the superfluous families on his estate.* In the course of its statistical inquiries, which
cannot be prosecuted too minutely or too thoroughly, other ameliorations will open on its view which with both the power and
the will to do good, it might not only suggest but carry into accomplishment.  In short, a complete survey, and  as complete  a
study founded upon that survey, should be made of Ireland.  Had
we known as much a year ago, as we should now  set ourselves
to learn and might acquire in two or three months, it might have
kept us from many errors, and perhaps anticipated all the starvations. In the face of such an argument as this, it were worse
than strange, it were shameful, to decline the enterprise, on the
score either of its expense or its difficulty.   The lives of millions
* We are aware of an apprehension lest a Government Scheme of Emigration subject
the country to expense for those who would otherwise emigrate of themselves. But who
are they?-farmilies that possess means of their own, and whose abandonment of Ireland
is of no advantage to it. The distinction surely is in such instances palpable enough beEween those who have the means and those who have it not; and they are the latter of
course only for whose emigration Government would undertake, in conjunction when
possible with those landed proprietors whose estates would be relieved by it either of its
squatters or its very small holders. The following is an interesting notice from Saunders' News-Letter of the 5th April. " From the Derry Castle and Burgess estate, Killaloe, 100 poor families, averaging 500 persons, gladly surrendered their small holdings to
the proprietor, Francis Spaight, Esq., who this week provided 300 of them a free passage, with sea store for the voyage, on board the Jane Black from Quebec, where they
are to be landed free of all charge, with the intention of settling in Canada as farm laborers. The remainder of this cottier tenantry, who grew up as mere squatters on the
estate, will follow in other vessels this month. and right glad of the opportunity and conditions for which the poor people express their gratitude."
Such emigration must fl dicitate the desirable ameliorations which have yet to be made
on the system of leases, and we suspect also on the tenures of land. But how sadly a
bad measure conflicts with a good one. The ordination of out-door relief in Ireland acts
with antagonistic force on the wholesome desire of the people for emigration.




POLITICAL  ECONOMY  OF A  FAMINE.                       537
may depend upon it. Ignorance might be pleaded in extenuation:
we are willing to entertain it as an excuse for the deaths of last
year. Let these be repeated another year, and if from the same
cause, our disgrace will be indelible. It was creditable to the
science of Government when they overruled the paltry economy
which would have laid an arrest on the Trigonometrical Survey.
The call is vastly more imperative-the national honor, because
the national humanity more loudly demands it-that Government
should forthwith set themselves to know the subject with which
they are dealing; and however costly or numerous the agencies
for carrying forward the work piecemeal from county to county,
and from parish to parish, they should from this moment institute
and enter with all vigor on the Economical Survey of Ireland.*
Meanwhile we cannot imagine a more egregious impolicy than
to have conjured up a new Poor-law for the occasion; or, in order to meet the exigencies of a passing and rare disaster, instead
* See an able and interesting paper by Samuel Ferguson, Esq., on the expediency of
taking stock-a lesson as imperative, we should think, at the end of the coming harvest as of the last. We hold him to be perfectly sound on the stoppage of the distilleries,
though we demur to his proposal for the prohibition of all exports of food. We prefer
the doctrine of Mr. Hancock on the latter of these two questions, yet we cannot acquiesce in the reasoning by which he supports it-a reasoning that, if sound, would be
equally valid against the stoppage of the distilleries-a measure that might also be conceived to bring down the prices from 70s. to 50s. a quarter, and so furnish Mr. Hancock
with the very same data and ruide him to the very same conclusion against the stoppage
of the distilleries as against the prohibition of food exports. But to make it available for
the relief of the very poorest we must do more than stop the distilleries-we must furnish them with money to purchase the now disengaged food. The mere fall of prices
might be a relief to those who can afford to pay 50s. but not 70s. per quarter: but it
were no relief to those who have no money at all. Say then that by public works or
otherwise they get as much money in their hands as to purchase all the food which the
distilleries would have consumed. Then there would have been no fall of prices. The
monev of these new customers would have had the same elevating effect on the cornmarket which the money of the distillers had before. But if they received the same
money without any stoppage of the distilleries, then the prices might have risen from 70s
to 90s., and the general community would have suffered. Let the distilleries be stopped,
then the destitution might be more cheaply relieved and without the burden of a higher
price on the classes above them. But let the distilleries not be stopped, then the destitution cannot be relieved without a rise in prices and so a burden on the higher classes.
The Government money which went into the pockets of farmers' sons who ought not to
have been on the works, and which went to the Savings' Banks-this had no effect in
raising prices. Had that money all gone where it was intended, to feed the really destitute andl keep them from perishing of hunger, the prices would have risen more than
they did, and we should have rejoiced in a rise proceeding from such a cause. Had the
distilleries been stopped, and money to purchase the grain now consumed by them been
transferred for the relief of hunger, prices would have been unchanged; and the simple
unembarrassed question is this-Whether it be better that grain should have been consumed in distilleries, or consumed in the houses and by the families of the destitute?
By the way, it must be gratifying to Mr. Trevelyan, who at an early part of the Correspondence reasoned so ably on the benefits of a high price, to observe the practical triumph of his argument in the magnificent importations since of food from America-to a
tenfold greater extent than ever Government could have achieved. It remains, however,
to be seen whether even these importations will make good an adequate supply for us.
It might perhaps reconcile Mr. Ferguson to a free trade in corn, were he to examine the
Liverpool Tables issued from the Corn Exchange there. In one week last month taken
at random there were exported from Ireland to Liverpool 381 quarters of wheat; but to
balance this, there were exported from Liverpool to Ireland in the samre week 4869 quarters.
68




538           POLITICAL ECONOMY OF A FAMINE.
of a temporary make-shift, to have devised a thing of permanent
institution and ordained it to be of perpetual force and operation
in all time coming. It was right to set up in every locality of
Ireland a gateway of relief for the people from the destitution of
this most extraordinary year. But it was not right, it is most
grievously and we fear irreparably wrong, to tell the people that
this is the very gateway by which they are to seek and to find
relief in every future vear which lies before them. It is not possible to conceive a likelier expedient for the wholesale initiation
of a people into the worst of habits, or for plunging the country
instanter, and from one end to the other of it, into a universal and
inveterate pauperism. Verily, England has not yet gotten her
own legislation for the poor into such a state of settlement and
perfection as at all entitles her to palm it upon us; or to distemper, as she has done, the social systems both of Scotland and Ireland, by the contention of her own inveterate malady.  The
method of relief for the present should have been made as peculiar as the emergency itself is peculiar-mainly we hold at the
expense of Government, as say in the proportion of two to
one; but partly at the expense of the land-owners, and which, if
they are not able to pay at the time, should be charged in the
form of a mortgage upon their estates. Meanwhile all changes
and improvements on the ordinary poor-law should have been
kept in abeyance-so that every injurious effect would disappear,
after that the special visitation had passed away, and the temporary as well as special apparatus raised to provide for it had been
taken down and removed from the eyes of the people.
Nevertheless our proposed Commission should, among their
other labors, be tasked with the duty of fully preparing themselves
on the question of a Poor-law. And most assuredly if either
Ireland or Scotland is to be bettered by their inquiries and lucubrations on such a topic, England will receive a benefit from them
also-as little independent as either of these countries of the further lights which experience or principle might cast upon the subject. This is a topic on which we would reserve ourselves for
the ample opportunities that will occur for the discussion of it in
future Numbers of this work. We would rather append any
view or opinion of ours to the Report of a Commission than to the
debates of a senate-house; and were men only content to mrait
the slow processes of diligent investigation, and of earnest patient
thought, it would save us from a world of crude legislation in Parliament, as well as of crude and hasty speculation out of doors.
But one word more of this Commission-the only effectual sort
of machinery, we do think, if but well put together and well
worked, for effecting an extrication from our present difficulties
-by leading to the establishment of a right economic state both
in Ireland and our own Highlands. We in the first place would
have it invested with an ample sufficiency of means. whether




POLITICAL ECONOMY OF A FAMINE.           539
present or prospective, and in the conscious possession of these-so
as not to shrink as do all our Government officers at present, from
every proposal which involves in it the least expenditure of
money; but, with the feeling that its vocation is to work out reforms on a large scale, not to be startled by the magnitude of any
scheme, or with sensitive alarm to throw it overboard, and without investigation, if at all likely to yield the money's worth for
the money bestowed on it. But in the second place, we would
have it armed with sufficient resolution and sufficient strength to
put down the clamor and the cupidity, and it may be the occasional violence, excited by the imagination of its unbounded resources, and of the facility with which it might give way to every
application. We hope that it would soon show itself to have no
such facilityv; and that while conscious of the greatness of its
means, it was alike conscious of the great things which it had to
do with them. In the third place, we would have it ever to acquit itself as the resolute protector of the most helpless, both
against the upper classes on the one hand, and against those of
the lower classes who are not so helpless as they,-and this that
not a human creature shall perish from want, an object on which
the hearts of our rulers have been set from the first, but in which
they have been thwarted by difficulties that we trust they will
now know how to overcome. And lastly, as the reward of its
perseverance in a right and reasonable way, we should calculate that the public respect and the public confidence would at
length go along with them, till they arrived at their landing place,
the great terminus ad quem of their appointment-to relieve the
countries on which they operate from the pressure that now lies
upon them, and to effect such adjustments between the various
orders of society, and more especially between landlords and tenants, as that, raised from the state of beggary and dependence,
they might in all time coming be a well-conditioned and self-sustaining people.
There is one question on which grieved and outraged humanity
seeks to be appeased, and demands satisfaction. Why is it that,
on the one hand, there should be such numerous deaths by starvation, while, on the other, there is such abundance of means,
and along with it the most earnest and longing desire that this
fearful calamity should be mitigated to the uttermost? Several
reasons might be adduced for this most perplexing and piteous phenomenon; but we shall only state two. First, the dispensers of
benevolence from without, including Government among the number, are most naturally and justifiably afraid lest the benevolence
from within should be at all slackened or superseded, or that in
virtue of their interference the operation of home duties and home
charities should at all be suspended,-while, on the other hand,
there is a mighty, and we should even call it a natural, it may be
a pardonable, disposition among the people themselves, to over



540          POLITICAL ECONOMY OF A FAMINE.
rate the magnitude of what is doing, or to be done for them from
abroad. Between this fear on the one hand, and this delusion on
the other, thousands of lives have been sacrificed; and yet we
are not prepared to say, but that if the fear had not operated so
as to make Government wary in their proceedings, there might
not have been ten deaths by hunger, for every one that is now
recorded. Let us just imagine that they had made gratuitous
distribution of their stores at Schull and Skibbereen; and we have
only to conceive the paralyzing effect which the report of this
generosity would have had, not on the home charity alone, but
on the home and inland trade~ of Ireland,-after it had gone
abroad that Government, with its inexhaustible treasury and its
magnificent depots, would overtake all and provide for all. There
is no Government on earth that possesses the wealth and the
power, and above all, the ubiquity which might enable it to countervail the mischief of so ruinous a dependence, if it once per
vaded, and among all ranks, too, the entire mass of a country's
population. But there is a single sentence in the last Report of
the Friends, these noble-hearted men of undoubted Christian
worth, but of wisdom along with it, which throws a flood of light
upon this question. No one will suspect them who went forth
months ago on their pilgrimage of charity, and traversed the whole
extent of Ireland-none will suspect them of hard-heartedness, or
of callous indifference to the sufferings of their fellow-men; and
yet let us hear their explanation of the fact, that of the forty
thousand pounds which they had raised, augmented if we understand them aright, by twelve thousand more, the sum of twentyfour thousand pounds had been all that was expended-and this
while hundreds were dying. " We cannot close this brief Report
without expressing the satisfaction that we have in contemplating
the proceedings of the Dublin Committee. We believe that if
they had hastily distributed the money which had been committed
to their charge, it would have been incalculably less useful. Some
of those who have contributed money for a time have felt uneasy
because their liberality has been husbanded. whilst hundreds of
their fellow-creatures were dropping into the grave, but we believe that the larger the acquaintance they have with Ireland, her
wants, and her national character, the more reason they will have
to rejoice in an intervention of a committee, who, while they have
known how to give, have known also how, by withholding for a
time, to open the legitimate springs of assistance, which otherwise might have remained sealed, to the necessities of a famishing
people." Had all the springs of assistance flowed as they ought,
and if the opening of one had not had the effect, as if by some
* In the Longford Journal of January the 16th, we read that in the neighborhoodl
of Castle-town " the report of a Government depot to be established, kept back the commercial people, and the whole district is now without food."




POLITICAL ECONOMY  OF A FAMINE.                       541
sort of moral machinery, of shutting another, the whole even of
this stupendous calamity might have been fully overtaken.
The second reason, which we shall only state, without commenting on it, is the want of sufficient local agencies in Ireland —
the effect of which is that though adequate funds were raised,
they might prove unavailable for the adequate supply and distribution of food, and this over whole breadths of country where,
each family living on their own half acre of potatoes, all marketing for victuals was in a great measure unknown. This alone accounts for a great number of the starvations. It is well brought
out in an extract given below from a letter of the Rev. F. F.
Trench of Clough-Jordan after a visit to the parish of Schull*.
We confess it to be in this last reason especially that we read
the prognostication and the omen of future, and perhaps heavier
disasters, than ever have yet fallen upon poor unhappy Ireland!
It is easy for Parliament to ordain Relief Committees throughout
all its localities; but do there exist everywhere materials for their
formation, and still more for the vigorous and effectual working
of them? Is not there room to apprehend a failure here; and
that from  this cause alone, unless we become callous-itself the
most grievous moral calamity which can befall a nation —we might
still continue between this and the coming harvest to be agonized
as heretofore by these hideous starvations? It is true that no single Government is responsible for such a want of local agencies, proceeding as it does from a state of society which is the
result of the misgovernment of many centuries? But has nothing
been done even in our present session of Parliament to aggravate
the evil? Whether have they taken the right method to invite
or repel the willing co-operation of the most important class, and
the best able by their position and influence to lend the readiest
and the greatest service in this trying emergency-the landed
proprietors of Ireland?   Was it the likeliest way for engaging
them heart and hand in the work, thus to assimilate, as has been
done, the methods of temporary relief with the ordinary and per* The date of the letter is March 22, 1847. The following is but a small portion of it
-" Take for example the one parish of Schull (and there are many like it). Here there
are scarcely any gentry, and none rich. What can one physician do amongst 18,000
people in such a state (and oats for his horse dear) i What can the ordinary number
of local clergy do in such an extensive district? They cannot visit one-tenth part of the
sick, even if they had horses, and oats to feed them, which some of them have not. Can
Dr. Traill be expected to carry meal to the people in the mountains across the pummel
of his saddle, as he has done. Can Mr. M'Cabe, the curate, be expected to push in the
door and look for a vessel, and wash the vessel previous to putting a drink into it for the
sick, who were unable to rise, as he has done. But let there be provided a sufficient
staff of fit men to prescribe for the sick, and to place cooked food within the reach of the
poor, and I feel confident that the supply of money that the public have proved themselves ready to give would pay for all, and so prevent absolute starvation, and restore
health in many instances."
In a subsequent letter of Mr. Trench it appears that his appeal was quite effectual as
far as the money was concerned; but the staff of fit men still remained a desideratum.
Conceive some hundreds of such localities in Ireland; and we need not wonder if in a
country so circumstanced, there should have occurred so many starvations.




542           POLITICAL ECONOMY OF A FAMINE.
manent methods for the relief of the poor in all time coming-and
this contemporaneously with the passing of a measure by which
to accelerate tenfold the growth and increase of an all-absorbing
pauperism? It is not only compelling them to vote away their
own money, but to dispose of it so that it shall become the germ
of a growing and gathering mischief-a deadly upas, which in a
few years will be sure to spread its poison and shed its malignant
influences over the whole land. But it is thus that England is
ever for imposing on the dependent territories around her, her
own wretched poor-law-as if this were the grand panacea for
all our moral and social disorders, instead of being what it truly
is, a distempering and disturbing influence wherewith to complicate and derange whatever it comes in contact with. It will indeed form a most instructive result, if in France without a poorlaw and the disadvantage of higher prices than our own, she come
forth of her famine unscathed and without a death-while the
enormous destruction of two millions of human beings, now coolly
reckoned on as the likelihood in Ireland, shall be held forth to a
wondering world, as England's trophy to the wisdom and the efficacy of her boasted legislation.
But with all the blunders of England's legislation, the heart of
England is in its right place-bent with full desirousness on Ireland's large and lasting good. We do hope that ere the close of
the Parliamentary Session she will make a clear demonstration
of her purposes, by the appointment of a Commission that shall at
once represent the largeness of her wishes and the largeness of
her means-a Commission that will not let down its labors, till it
has left and established in both countries, an unfettered proprietary, a secure and leaseholding tenantry; and, best of all, a population in circumstances, should they have the will, to earn a stable
sufficiency for themselves by their own prosperous and well-paid
industry.  In the prospect of blessings such as these, Ireland
would forthwith address itself with alacrity and hope to its present
duties; and vigorously work even the existing Relief machinery,
with all its defects, rather than that the country should sink, and
its people die as heretofore in thousands under the burden of their
present distress.  With the guidance and guardianship of the
Holy Providence above, a harvest of good will ensue from this
great temporary evil; and Ireland, let us trust and pray, will
emerge from her sore trial, on a bright and peaceful career to future generations.
Such are a few of the general views, we fear somewhat confusedly put together, which have been suggested by these interesting volumes of Correspondence between the officials of Government on the subject of the Scottish and Irish famines. The
several hundreds of passages to which we had affixed our notanda
as the topics of remark and reflection, must all be laid aside for
the present, though rich in materials ample enough for two other




POLITICAL ECONOMY OF A FAMINE.           543
Articles on "the Highlands in detail," and " Ireland in detail."
Whether these shall ever be forthcoming or not, the subjects certainly will suffer no decline in point of urgency and importance
for many months or perhaps years; and on the vista of Irish
questions there opens upon our view an argument of as much
higher importance than any we have now touched upon, as the
moral is higher than the economical or the physical,-what is
best to be done for the education of a people, using this term in
the most comprehensive sense of it, as education both for the present and the future world.
In our dislike to the work of condemnation, we have indicated
rather than pronounced our views in regard to the parties on
whom the responsibility lies for these starvations in Ireland. It
clearly does not lie upon the Government-but partly on difficulties in the state of the country itself, and partly, we grieve to
add, on delinquencies of mischievous and extensive operation, on
the part both of proprietors and people. We will never give in
to any wholesale calumny on either of these classes; but how
can we otherwise account for so great a failure of bygone measures of relief, than by a flagrant misconduct somewhere, when
we read the following sentences from a Report of the Relief Commnissioners just come to hand:-" We feel that as long as the number of the destitute continue to increase as they have done, at the
rate of about 20,000 persons per week, and as long as every person sent to the work must be employed, and, no matter how idle,
cannot be dismissed, except on account of insubordination or outrage, the overseers, the greater number of whom have been necessarily taken from the surrounding country, are unable, perhaps
sometimes unwilling, to enforce regularity or system in works
executed by a mass of unskilful, and frequently weak and even
dying creatures."
It further appears from Reports and other documents, that all
the instructions" which have been from time to time issued, either
to reduce the number of persons upon the works, or not to employ persons rated at ~6 and upwards, and every other regulation of similar import, have been found utterly inefficacious to
check the inordinate increase of persons upon the Relief Works,
and that a large proportion of the Relief Committees have recommended for employment upon these works, in considerable
numbers, persons having no claim whatever to relief, and have
lattety abandoned all attempt to investigate the claim of the
applicants."
Well then are the Lords of the Treasury warranted in their conclusion, -" that all effectual control over the increase in the number
of persons employed, and over the manner in which the work
is executed by them, has, for the present, been lost."
In these circumstances we would implore the landed proprietors of Ireland to bestir themselves; and see to it, that there




544           POLITICAL ECONOMY OF A FAMINE.
shall be a righteous and well-principled administration of the new
methods of relief. Without a patriotic co-operation on their part,
and on the part of Ireland generally, all effectual good, whether
in the shape of relief or amelioration, will be wholly impracticable."




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Lowrie, Rev. John C., Two Years in UTpper       Winer's Idioms of the Language of the New
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