Hutton, near Cross, Somersetshire,
Nov. 1830.
My dear Armstrong,
I DO indeed feel myself much obliged to you for kindly breaking through
the impediments which my lengthened silence put in the way of our renewed
intercourse. I often reproached myself for not writing; and yet there
seemed such an awkwardness in recommencing, that I fear I should never
have had courage to combat with it. But your truly welcome letter has
opened my way, and I most gladly avail myself of the unexpected facility.
But before I proceed to other matters, I ought to assure you that yours
is not any personal or any peculiar or isolated case. All my friends,
and even relatives, are successively neglected; and if it were not that
so many of them are touched with a similar feeling of kindness with
yourself, and ever and anon renew the needful impulse, I should soon be
forsaken by them all, and find myself, what I so richly deserve, “a
desolate old man.”
All your topics of communication cheer me. I truly rejoice with you in
the erection of the church. It was a noble emprise, characteristic of my
endeared friend, and peculiarly owned and blessed of his God; of its
extent of good, eternity will alone unfold. Your account also of your
dear children was read by me with much interest, and with real gratitude.
How faithful is God. In the spirit of the Levite you have thrown up your
inheritance among your brethren. And some of us, not sufficiently aware
of the nature or extent of your faith, and but little called to tread in
similar paths, were inwardly dreading some disastrous shock. But the
whirlwind, the earthquake, and the fire, were only the creatures of our
own imagination; while all that is real is “the still small voice” of our
God, proclaiming, as is usual with him, to those who can trust him, his
goodness, and his love. May the same goodness attend all the other
branches of your dear family. And may you and your beloved wife be long
spared to them, to the church, and the world.
I know your friendly feeling would prompt you to enquire respecting our
several movements. But where shall I begin? All is and all has been
well with us; and yet much has been transpiring which we little
anticipated. The calls of our family have induced struggling and
self-denial. My curate could not be retained. The tutor for my
children, when he left for college, has not been replaced. First, his
duties devolved on me; then the extra care of three pupils. Removing,
too, has been attended with loss. And various other matters have all
been tending toward the same point. But still I would reiterate the
declaration—all is and has been well with us. To some spirits,
struggling and difficulty is absolutely necessary. Like stagnant waters,
they must be shaken, or they will acquire the evils consequent on
inactivity.
I have for some years past been endeavouring to feel my way as to a
settlement in one of our colonies; having little expectation of being
able to settle my children at all advantageously in England. All I
wished for was something in the shape of ministerial duty, without much
regard to the emolument, but as a kind of satisfaction that I was not
going out of the way of usefulness. But my inquiries were fruitless.
Indeed my friends were not over anxious about my success. They mostly
inclined to my remaining in England; and therefore did not, I believe, at
all exert themselves. Now I begin to fancy that I am getting too old for
such an experiment. Though possibly should anything desirable present
itself, I should not wonder at my old feelings reviving. But I should
not now be tempted, I think, with anything short of a chaplaincy; and
these are so far from being come-at-able, that I consider my emigrating
schemes as at an end. My views, however, with regard to my own country
are still the same. I was never a national croaker; and have, I think,
always been disposed to look at the bright side. Still I can anticipate
nothing but rapidly increasing distress, and not very far distant ruin.
And this has almost invariably been the case with great commercial
nations. The influx of extraneous wealth, producing such increase of
population, and such extent of luxury, and when these arrive at a certain
point, other countries, other markets, successfully compete, and
eventually surpass. At one of these points we are already arrived, and
the retrograde impulse is beginning to be most painfully felt. All
classes, indeed, are much suffering at present; and had it not pleased
God to have given us a popular king and a most plenteous harvest, it is
most generally believed that a revolution would ere this have taken
place. Many, I know, are still dreading it. A letter which I received
but a few days since from a General, a father of one of my pupils, is
strongly expressive of the feelings which still prevail in the
metropolis. To add to other causes of apprehension, we have just
received the account of the resignation of the Wellington ministry. All
is indeed perplexity. But still the Lord Omnipotent reigneth; all is in
his hands. And possibly what we are dreading is only the small cloud of
needless apprehension, which will either soon blow over, or only
discharge itself in unexpected and undeserved mercies. But why should I
allude to public events; for, with letters from your friends, you
receive, no doubt, a budget of the public papers, which bring all these
matters before you in all their diversified aspects and bearings.
As to my ministerial employments, I feel on the whole comfortably
engaged. My sphere is but small; and my success not very apparent; and
yet circumstances seem to require my continuance; nor does any moving of
the cloud point out any other place. I therefore go labouring on; and
should it please God to fix me eventually in some other situation, I
shall find all the benefit from my past exertion; for I make a point of
preparing one new sermon every week.
Mrs. G. M. unites with me in very kindest remembrance to yourself and
dear Mrs. A.
And I remain, my much endeared Friend,
Yours, ever sincerely,
G. M.