PARTIES WHO CONTRIBUTED TOWARDS MY RETURN TO CHRIST.
After I fell into doubt and unbelief, the Church, and the ministry
generally, appeared to look on me as irretrievably lost. The great mass
of them made no attempt for my recovery. How much they cared for my soul
I do not know; but for nearly twenty years they left me to wander as a
sheep that had no shepherd. Many of them spoke against me, and wrote
against me, and some of them even met me in public discussion; but they
never approached me in the spirit of gentleness and love, to try to win
me back to Christ, and bring me once more into His Church. Some of them
treated me with grievous injustice. As I have said some pages back, one
minister made himself most odious to me and my friends, and did
something towards increasing our antipathy to the religion which he so
grossly dishonored, by his unjust and hateful doings. It is bad for
Christianity when men like these are put forward as its advocates. No
open enemies can do it so much injury as such unworthy friends.
There were others, however, who took a more Christian course, and if
they did not succeed in at once reclaiming me from my melancholy
delusions, they produced a happy effect on my mind, which helped to
bring about, in the end, my return to the Christian faith.
1. There was one man, a minister, who, though he wrote against some of
my views, always treated me with respect. He never gave me offensive
names, nor charged me with unworthy motives, nor treated me with
affected contempt. He regarded me simply as an erring brother, and
strove, with genuine Christian affection, to bring me back to what he
regarded as the truth. He died before my restoration to the Church, but
his labors on my behalf were not in vain.
2. A kind-hearted layman once sent me a book--"_The Philosophy of the
Plan of Salvation_,"--accompanied with a short, but affectionate letter.
The book did not convert me, but the kindness of the friend that sent it
had a happy effect. Though beyond the reach of logic, I was within the
reach of love.
3. The _Author_ of "_The Philosophy of the Plan of Salvation_" was Mr.
Walker, a minister of Mansfield, Ohio. While in America I gave a course
of lectures in that town on the Bible. The friend at whose house I was
staying took me to see Mr. Walker, who received me with great kindness,
invited me to dine with him, and conversed with me in a truly Christian
manner. He even came to one of my lectures, in hopes of helping me over
the difficulties which blocked my way to the faith of Christ. I did not,
however, treat him with the kind and considerate tenderness with which
he had treated me. I was under unhappy influences, and I spoke on the
Bible in such a manner as to try him past endurance, and he left me that
night with very painful feelings, regarding me, probably, as lost past
hope. Should he read this work, it may give him satisfaction to know,
that his kindness, and his work on Christ as a revelation of the Eternal
Father, had a part in helping me back to the religion of Christ.
4. Five years ago last December, Mr. John Mawson, Sheriff of
Newcastle-on-Tyne, was killed on the Town Moor by a terrible explosion
of nitro-glycerine. I had been acquainted with him more than
five-and-twenty years. He joined the church at Newcastle, of which I was
a minister, and remained my friend to the last. He had his doubts on
certain points of theology, but he never lost his faith in the great
principles of Christianity. When I was over from America once, I spent
some time in his company, and we had frequent conversations on religion.
"It seems to me," said he, "that we ought to put some trust in our
_hearts_. My head has often tempted me to doubt; but my heart has always
clung to God and immortality. It does so still; and I believe it is
right. Indeed, I have no doubt of it." I remembered his words. They led
me to study the moral and spiritual instincts of my nature more
thoroughly than I had done before. They led me to study the subject of
instinct and natural affection generally. _My_ instincts, like the
instincts of my friend, had always clung to God and a future life, and
to the principles of religion and virtue, even when reason hesitated and
doubted most. I had never given up my belief in any of the great
doctrines of Christianity without a painful struggle. But I had been led
to think it my duty, when there was a conflict between my head and my
heart, to take part with my head. My heart, for instance, would say,
"Pray;" but reason, or something in the garb of reason, would say,
"Don't. If what you desire is good, God will give it you, whether you
pray for it or not; and if it be evil, He will withhold it, pray as you
may. Prayer may move a man like yourself; but it cannot move God." And I
hearkened to the seeming reason, and gave up prayer. My heart said,
"There is a personal, conscious, all-perfect God." My head, or my
infidel philosophy said, "There cannot be such a God. A God all-powerful
could prevent evil. A God all-good _would_ prevent it. God cannot
therefore be a conscious, personal, all-perfect being. He must be a
blind, unconscious power; the sum total of natural tendencies, working
according to the eternal properties of things, without the possibility
of change; and hence the existence of evil, and the prevalence of
eternal, unalterable law." And here again my head was permitted to
prevail, and my heart, in spite of all its remonstrances, was compelled
to give way. And with a personal, conscious, all-perfect God, went the
richest treasures of the human heart,--trust in a Fatherly Providence;
the hope of a blessed immortality, and faith in the ultimate triumph of
truth and justice, and all assurance of human progress and a good time
coming.
Yet I was obliged, in spite of the false philosophical principle I had
adopted, to accept the oracles of my heart on many points, and to reject
the logic of my head. My heart said, "Speak the truth; to lie is wrong."
But now that it had got rid of a personal God, logic said, "There can be
nothing wrong in a lie that hurts no one. There is something commendable
in a useful, serviceable lie. To lie to save a person from danger or
destruction is a virtue. The feeling which shrinks from such a lie is a
blind, irrational prejudice, and should be plucked up and cast out of
the soul. Truth may be proper enough in the _strong_: but _deceit_ is
the wisdom of the _weak_." But in this case my heart, my instinctive
love of truth, prevailed.
Again, my heart pleaded for justice and mercy; for _justice_ to all; and
for _mercy_ to the needy and helpless. But reason, or the heartless and
godless philosophy that usurped its name, said, "Utility is the supreme
law; the only law of man. Justice and mercy are right when they are
useful; but when they are hurtful they are right no longer. If by
destroying the helpless and the needy we can deliver them from their
misery, and increase the happiness of the rest of our race, their
destruction is a virtue, especially if we dispose of them in a quiet and
painless way, so as to spare them the fears and agonies of death!" But
here again my heart prevailed. My natural, unreasoning, instinctive
horror of injustice and murder rendered the specious pleadings of
Atheistic utilitarianism powerless. And so on moral matters generally.
As a rule, Atheists succeed, in course of time, in vanquishing and
destroying their moral as well as their religious instincts, and then
they embrace the most revolting doctrines, and reconcile themselves to
the most appalling deeds. They look on marriage as irrational, and
regard modesty and chastity as vices. Shame is a weakness in their eyes,
and natural affections are irrational prejudices. Scruples against
lying, theft and murder, when any great good is to be gained by those
practices, are insanity. Gratitude, even to parents, is an absurdity.
Free indulgence, unlimited license, is a virtue. The curse of our race
is religion. The one great social evil is a surplus population; and the
prevention or destruction of children is the sum of social science and
virtue. The extinction of the weaker races, and the destruction of those
of every race who cannot contribute their share of wealth and pleasure
to the common stock, is the perfection of philosophy. In short, all the
old-fashioned principles of virtue, honor, conscience, generosity,
self-restraint, self-sacrifice, and natural affection are exploded, and
in their place there comes a black and hideous chaos of all indecencies
and immoralities, a boundless and bottomless abyss of all imaginable
and unspeakable horrors. I shudder when I think how near I came to this
hell of atheistical philosophy. My inability entirely to extinguish my
better instincts and affections, prevented me from plunging headlong
into its frightful depths. It was more than I could do to carry out the
atheistical principles of mere theoretical reasoning to its last
results. I was, thank God, on some points, always inconsistent, and my
inconsistency was my salvation. My heart preserved me in spite of my
head.
But if I could not carry out my principle of trusting to mere reasoning
to its full extent, why did I act on it at all? When I found that it led
to utter degradation and ruin, why did I not renounce it, and trust once
more in my native instincts? When I found myself obliged to follow my
heart in so many matters, why not follow it in all? I answer, I had not
a sufficient understanding of the matter. I wanted more light. But the
course of study on which the remarks of my dear good friend Mr. Mawson
led me to enter, led to clearer and correcter views on the subject. It
led to the conviction that instinct and natural affection are divine
inspirations,--that the beliefs and practices to which they constrain us
are the perfection of wisdom and goodness,--that to set them aside is
inevitable ruin,--that whenever reason says one thing, and our religious
and moral affections and instincts say another, we ought to turn a deaf
ear to reason, and follow implicitly the dictates of our moral and
religious faculties. And to this conviction, resulting in a great
measure from the remarks of my faithful and devoted friend, I owe, in
part, my present unspeakable happiness as a believer in Christ.
5. I encountered two Christian men in public discussion who left a
favorable impression on my mind. One was the Rev. Andrew Loose, of
Winchester, Indiana. The subject of discussion between me and Mr. Loose
was the divine authority of the Bible. He went through the whole debate,
which lasted several days, without uttering one uncharitable, scornful,
or angry word, with the exception of a single phrase in his last speech;
and even that he meekly and generously recalled, after I had satisfied
him of its impropriety. I never forgot the conduct of that dear good
man, and his Christian meekness and forbearance had a good effect on my
heart.
6. The other gentleman whose conduct left the most favorable impression
of all on my mind, was Colonel Shaw, of Bourtree Park, Ayr, Scotland, of
whose gentlemanly behavior and great Christian kindness I have already
spoken.
7. There were some other persons who, without assailing me with
argument, did me considerable good. After lecturing at Burnley once, a
person rose to oppose me, and a great disturbance followed. I was thrown
from the platform, and fell backward on the floor, and a crowd of
persons fell upon me, and I had a narrow escape from death by violence
and suffocation. I was rescued however alive. In the tumult my overcoat,
my hat, and my watch disappeared, and my body was somewhat bruised. Next
day a gentleman who had heard of the way in which I had been treated,
came to my lodgings to see me. He seemed very much distressed on my
account, and anxious, if possible, to do something which might minister
comfort to my mind. His name was Philips. He was a Methodist, and the
son of a Methodist preacher. His kindness and sympathy were so genuine
and so earnest, that they made a deep impression on my mind, and they
naturally recur to my memory when I think of the friends whose influence
helped to reclaim me from the miseries of doubt and unbelief.
8. About thirteen years ago I lectured at Bacup. The Rev. T. Lawson,
Congregational minister of Bacup, attended my lectures, and came and
spoke to me afterwards, and invited me to call and see him, and dine
with him. I went, and we had a lengthened conversation on matters
pertaining to religion and the Church. My host exhibited a remarkable
amount of Christian charity and true liberality of sentiment. He had
been a reader of mine in his earlier days, when I was an advocate of
Evangelical reform, and he spoke of himself as my debtor; and he was
desirous, if possible, of repaying the debt, by smoothing the way for my
return to Christianity. Mrs. Lawson sat and listened to our conversation
in silence; but when I rose to take my leave, she bade me good-bye with
most unmistakable evidences of interest in my welfare, and said, as she
held me by the hand, "I hope we shall meet you in heaven." I had one or
two other interviews with Mr. Lawson at a somewhat later period, and all
are to be placed among the means by which I was brought to my present
happy position.
9. Some nineteen years ago I had a public discussion with the Rev.
Charles Williams, Baptist minister, of Accrington. It was a very
unpleasant affair. I was much exhausted at the time with over much work,
and with long-continued and painful excitement caused by a very
unpleasant piece of business which I had in hand; and I did what I
honorably could to avoid the discussion. My friends, however, would have
no nay, and I reluctantly, and in anything but an amiable temper, made
my appearance at the time appointed on the platform. How far the blame
was chargeable on me, or how far it was chargeable on others, I do not
know; but the first night's meeting was a very disagreeable one. I
thought myself in the right at the time, but I fancy my unhappy state of
mind must have rendered me very provoking, and at the same time blinded
me to the real character of my proceedings. On the following night the
discussion went on more smoothly, and it ended better than it began. I
was constrained to regard Mr. Williams as an able and good man. I met
him occasionally after my separation from the Secularists, and his
behaviour and spirit deepened the favorable impression of his character
already made on my mind. While I was at Burnley he delivered a lecture
in that town on Bishop Colenso's work on the Pentateuch. I was present.
When he had done, he invited me in the kindest way imaginable to speak.
I had heard next to nothing in the lecture to which I could object, but
much that I could heartily approve and applaud. To all that he had said
in praise of the Bible I could subscribe most heartily. Indeed I felt
that the Bible was worthy of more and higher praise than he had bestowed
on it, and I expressed myself to that effect. The meeting altogether was
a very pleasant one, except to a number of unbelievers, who were
dreadfully vexed at my remarks in commendation of the Bible. I saw Mr.
Williams repeatedly afterwards, and his kind and interesting
conversation, and his very gentlemanly and Christian demeanor, had
always a beneficial effect on my mind.
10. One of the first to express a conviction that I should become a
Christian was an American lady, whom I sometimes saw in London. She had
herself been an unbeliever, but had been cured of her skepticism by
spiritualism. She was then a Catholic. She gave me a medal of the Virgin
Mary, and entreated me to wear it round my neck. To please her I
promised to do so. But the medal disappeared before long, and what
became of it I never could tell; but my friend had the satisfaction to
see her prophecy fulfilled in my happy return to Christianity.
11. An acquaintance which I formed with the Rev. W. Newton, of
Newcastle-on-Tyne, must also be reckoned among the things which exerted
an influence on my mind favorable to Christianity. Mr. Newton had been a
Baptist in his earlier days, but getting into perplexity with regard to
certain doctrines, he became a Unitarian. He came to feel however, in
course of time, that something more than Unitarianism was necessary to
the satisfaction of his soul, and to the salvation of the world; and at
the time that I became acquainted with him, he had made up his mind to
leave the Unitarians. On my way to the far-off regions of unbelief, I
had passed through the Unitarian territory; and I passed through the
same territory, or near to its border, on my return to Christianity; and
had it not been for my interviews with Mr. Newton, and a somewhat
startling event or two that occurred about that period, I might have
lingered for a time in that cold and hungry land. Mr. Newton helped to
quicken my steps, and I moved onward, and rested not, till I found my
way back to the paradise, or a garden that very much resembled the
paradise, of my earlier days.
12. Mr. J. Potts, like Mr. J. Mawson, without following me into the
extremes of doubt, retained his friendship for me through all my
wanderings, and never neglected any opportunity he had of showing me
kindness. And others, whom I cannot take the liberty to name, evinced
the same unfailing constancy of esteem and love. And the unbroken
connexion that remained between my enduring friends and their amiable
families and myself, added to the attractions Christ-ward, and made it
easier for my soul to return at last to its home of peace and rest.
13. Between thirteen and fourteen years ago, while living in London, I
became acquainted with Mr. W. White. He had been reared a Quaker, but,
like most hard thinkers, had had experience of doubt, and was, in
consequence, after his faith was re-established, able to strengthen his
doubting brethren. He contributed to my conversion, first by his
enlightened conversation, and then by a long, kind, Christian letter on
the Bible, by which he helped me over a number of difficulties which
stood in the way of my faith.
14. But perhaps none of the parties I have named, had a more powerful
and beneficial effect on my mind than one whom I have not yet mentioned.
If I had been asked thirteen years ago, whether I supposed there was any
minister in the Methodist New Connexion who regarded me with
affectionate solicitude, and who was wishful for an opportunity to speak
to me words of love and tenderness, I should have answered, "No." If any
one had told me that there really was one of my old associates, with
whom I had formerly had warm controversy, not only on matters
theological, but on matters personal, who had been watching my career
for years, with the deepest interest, and who for months and years had
been earnestly praying for me every day, he would have seemed to me as
one amusing himself with fables. Yet such was really the case.
With no one had I come in closer contact perhaps, or in more frequent
and violent collision, than with the Rev. W. Cooke, now Dr. Cooke. He
had taken the lead in the proceedings against me in the Ashton
Conference, on account of my article on _Toleration, Human Creeds, &c._,
proceedings which had a most unhappy effect on my mind, and which led,
at length, to my separation from the Church, and to my alienation from
Christ. He had taken an active part in the violent controversies which
followed my expulsion from the ministry. We had, at a later period,
spent ten nights in public discussion on the leading doctrines of
Christianity. He had, in the performance of what he considered his duty
I suppose in my case, said things which had tried me terribly; and I,
with ideas of duty differing from his, had made him very liberal
returns, in a way not calculated to leave the most favorable or
comfortable impressions on his mind towards me. I had never seen him
since our long discussion but once, and then he seemed, to my fancy, to
be struggling with an inward tempest of very unhappy feeling towards me,
which he was hardly able to keep from exploding. I afterwards found
though, that I had not interpreted his looks on this occasion correctly.
At the time when I took my leave of the Secularists, my unpleasant
feelings towards my old opponent had about subsided; but I had no idea
that his unpleasant feelings towards me had passed away. Yet such was
the case. He had been reading my periodical for some time, and had been
pleased to find that both on religion and politics, I was returning,
though slowly, to the views of my happier days. Some time in August,
1862, he called at my office in London, with a parcel of books under his
arm. He had been praying for me daily for twelve months, when something
seemed to say to him, "You should do something more than pray." And now
he had come to try what he could do by a personal interview to aid the
wanderer's return to Christ. I was from home at the time, but my eldest
son was in the office, and he and the Doctor were at once engaged in
friendly conversation. "How like you are to what your father was four
and thirty years ago, when I first knew him," said the Doctor. "Your
father and I were great friends. It was your father that first directed
me to the study of Latin and Greek, which have been of great service to
me; and I feel indebted to him on that account. We were afterwards
separated. But I have observed, as I think, symptoms that your father is
returning towards his former views." And many other kind remarks he
made. At length he said, "Do you think your father would accept a copy
of my works?" My son, who knew the state of his father's mind, answered;
"I am sure he would, with great pleasure." The Doctor left copies of his
works, kindly inscribed to me with his own hand; and with the books, he
left for me a kind and Christian letter. My son lost no time in
forwarding me the letter, together with an account of the pleasant and
unlooked-for interview which he had had with the writer. I received the
letter, and the interesting story with which it was accompanied, with
the greatest astonishment and pleasure. I wrote to the Doctor,
reciprocating his expressions of kindness, and making the best returns I
could for the valuable present of his works. The result was a
correspondence, which has continued to the present time. The
correspondence led to interviews, in which the Doctor exhibited, in a
very striking manner, the graces and virtues that adorn the Christian
character. We talked, we read, we sang, we prayed together, and gave God
thanks, with tears of gratitude, for all the blessings of His boundless
love.
The effect of this kindness on the part of Dr. Cooke was, not only to
free my mind from any remains of hurtful feelings towards him, but to
dispose me, and enable me, to review the claims of Christianity and the
Bible in a spirit of greater fairness and candor, and so to make it
possible for me to become, what I had long believed I never could
become, a hearty believer in the religion of Christ.