A few days after, Sir John Belfield and I agreed to take a ride to Mr.
Carlton's, where we breakfasted. Nothing could be more rational than the
whole turn of his mind, nor more agreeable and unreserved than his
conversation. His behavior to his amiable wife was affectionately
attentive, and Sir John, who is a most critical observer, remarked that
it was quite natural and unaffected. It appeared to be the result of
esteem inspired by her merit, and quickened by a sense of his own former
unworthiness, which made him feel as if he could never do enough to
efface the memory of past unkindness. He manifested evident symptoms of
a mind earnestly intent on the discovery and pursuit of moral and
religious truth; and from the natural ardor of his character, and the
sincerity of his remorse, his attainments seemed likely to be rapid and
considerable.
The sweet benignity of Mrs. Carlton's countenance was lighted up at our
entrance with a smile of satisfaction. We had been informed with what
pleasure she observed every accession of right-minded acquaintance which
her husband made. Though her natural modesty prevented her from
introducing any subject herself, yet when any thing useful was brought
forward by others, she promoted it by a look compounded of pleasure and
intelligence.
After a variety of topics had been dispatched, the conversation fell on
the prejudices which were commonly entertained by men of the world
against religion. "For my own part," said Mr. Carlton, "I must confess
that no man had ever more or stronger prejudices to combat than myself.
I mean not my own exculpation when I add, that the imprudence, the want
of judgment, and, above all, the incongruous mixtures and
inconsistencies in many characters who are reckoned religious, are ill
calculated to do away the unfavorable opinions of men of an opposite way
of thinking. As I presume that you, gentlemen, are not ignorant of the
errors of my early life--error indeed is an appellation far too mild--I
shall not scruple to own to you the source of those prejudices which
retarded my progress, even after I became ashamed of my deviations from
virtue. I had felt the turpitude of my bad habits long before I had
courage to renounce them; and I renounced them long before I had courage
to avow my abhorrence of them."
Sir John and I expressed ourselves extremely obliged by the candor of
his declaration, and assured him that his further communications would
not only gratify but benefit us.
"Educated as I had been," said Mr. Carlton, "in an almost entire
ignorance of religion, mine was rather a habitual indifference than a
systematic unbelief. My thoughtless course of life, though it led me to
hope that Christianity might not be true, yet had by no means been able
to convince me that it was false. As I had not been taught to search for
truth at the fountain, for I was unacquainted with the Bible, I had no
readier means for forming my judgment than by observing, though with a
careless and casual eye, what effect religion produced in those who
professed to be influenced by it. My observations augmented my
prejudices. What I saw of the professors increased my dislike of the
profession. All the charges brought by their enemies, for I had been
accustomed to weigh the validity of testimony, had not riveted my
dislike so much as the difference between their own avowed principles
and their obvious practice. Religious men should be the more cautious of
giving occasion for reproach, as they know the world is always on the
watch, and is more glad to have its prejudices confirmed than removed.
"I seize the moment of Mrs. Carlton's absence (who was just then called
out of the room, but returned almost immediately) to observe, that what
rooted my disgust was, the eagerness with which the mother of my
inestimable wife, who made a great parade of religion, pressed the
marriage of her only child with a man whose conduct she knew to be
irregular, and of whose principles she entertained a just, that is, an
unfavorable opinion. To see, I repeat, the religious mother of Mrs.
Carlton obviously governed in her zeal for promoting our union by
motives as worldly as those of my poor father, who pretended to no
religion at all, would have extremely lowered any respect which I might
have previously been induced to entertain for characters of that
description. Nor was this disgust diminished by my acquaintance with Mr.
Tyrrel. I had known him while a professed man of the world, and had at
that time, I fear, disliked his violent temper, his narrow mind, and his
coarse manners, more than his vices.
"I had heard of the power of religion to change the heart, and I
ridiculed the wild chimera. My contempt for this notion was confirmed by
the conduct of Mr. Tyrrel in his new character. I found it had produced
little change in him, except furnishing him with a new subject of
discussion. I saw that he had only laid down one set of opinions and
taken up another, with no addition whatever to his virtues, and with the
addition to his vices of spiritual pride and self-confidence; for with
hypocrisy I have no right to charge any man. I observed that Tyrrel and
one or two of his new friends rather courted attack than avoided it.
They considered discretion as the infirmity of a worldly mind, and every
attempt at kindness or conciliation as an abandonment of faith. They
eagerly ascribed to their piety the dislike which was often excited by
their peculiarities. I found them apt to dignify the disapprobation
which their singularity occasioned with the name of persecution. I have
seen them take comfort in the belief that it was their religion which
was disliked, when perhaps it was chiefly their oddities.
"At Tyrrel's I became acquainted with your friends Mr. and Mrs. Ranby. I
leave you to judge whether their characters, that of the lady
especially, was calculated to do away my prejudices. I had learned from
my favorite Roman poet a precept in composition, of never making a God
appear, except on occasions worthy of a God. I have since had reason to
think this rule as justly theological as it is classical. So thought not
the Ranbys.
"It will, indeed, readily be allowed by every reflecting mind, as God is
to be viewed in all his works, so his 'never-failing providence ordereth
all things both in heaven and on earth.' But surely there is something
very offensive in the indecent familiarity with which the name of God
and Providence is brought in on every trivial occasion, as was the
constant practice of Mr. and Mrs. Ranby. I was not even then so
illogical a reasoner as to allow a general and deny a particular
Providence. If the one were true, I inferred that the other could not be
false. But I felt that the religion of these people was of a slight
texture and a bad taste. I was disgusted with littleness in some
instances, and with inconsistency in others. Still their absurdity gave
me no right to suspect their sincerity.
"Whenever Mrs. Ranby had a petty inclination to gratify, she had always
recourse to what she called the _leadings of Providence_. In matters of
no more moment than whether she should drink tea with one neighbor
instead of another, she was _impelled_, or _directed_, or _overruled_. I
observed that she always took care to interpret these _leadings_ to her
own taste, and under their sanction she always did what her fancy led
her to do. She professed to follow this guidance on such minute
occasions, that I had almost said her piety seemed a little impious. To
the actual dispensations of Providence, especially when they came in a
trying or adverse shape, I did not observe more submission than I had
seen in persons who could not be suspected of religion. I must own to
you also, that as I am rather fastidious, I began to fancy that vulgar
language, quaint phrases, and false grammar, were necessarily connected
with religion. The sacrifice of taste and elegance, seemed
indispensable, and I was inclined to fear that if _they_ were right, it
would be impossible to get to heaven with good English."
"Though I grant there is some truth in your remarks, sir," said I, "you
must allow that when men are determined at all events to hunt down
religious characters, they are never at a loss to find plausible
objections to justify their dislike; and while they conceal, even from
themselves, the real motive of their aversion, the vigilance with which
they pry into the characters of men who are reckoned pious, is exercised
with the secret hope of finding faults enough to confirm their
prejudices."
"As a general truth, you are perfectly right," said Mr. Carlton; "but at
the period to which I allude, I had now got to that stage of my
progress, as to be rather searching for instances to invite than to
repel me in my inquiry."
"You will grant, however," said I, "that it is a common effect of
prejudice to transfer the fault of a religious man to religion itself.
Such a man happens to have an uncouth manner, an awkward gesture, an
unmodulated voice; his allusions may be coarse, his phraseology quaint,
his language slovenly. The solid virtues which may lie disguised under
these incumbrances go for nothing. The man is absurd, and therefore
Christianity is ridiculous. Its truth, however, though it may be
eclipsed, can not be extinguished. Like its divine Author, it is the
same yesterday, to-day, and forever."
"There was another repulsive circumstance," replied Mr. Carlton: "the
scanty charities both of Tyrrel and his new friends, so inferior to the
liberality of my father and of Mr. Flam, who never professed to be
governed by any higher motive than mere feeling, strengthened my
dislike. The calculations of mere reason taught me that the religious
man who does not greatly exceed the man of the world in his
liberalities, falls short of him; because the worldly man who gives
liberally, acts above his principle, while the Christian who does no
more, falls short of his. And though I by no means insist that
liberality is a certain indication of piety, yet I will venture to
assert that the want of the one is no doubtful symptom of the absence of
the other.
"I next resolved to watch carefully the conduct of another description
of Christians, who come under the class of the formal and the decent.
They were considered as more creditable, but I did not perceive them to
be more exemplary. They were more absorbed in the world, and more
governed by its opinions. I found them clamorous in defense of the
church in words, but neither adorning it by their lives, nor embracing
its doctrines in their hearts. Rigid in the observance of some of its
external rites, but little influenced by its liberal principles, and
charitable spirit. They venerated the establishment merely as a
political institution, but of her outward forms they conceived, as
comprehending the whole of her excellence. Of her spiritual beauty and
superiority, they seemed to have no conception. I observed in them less
warmth of affection, for those with whom they agreed in external
profession, than of rancor for those who differed from them, though but
a single shade, and in points of no importance. They were cordial
haters, and frigid lovers. Had they lived in the early ages, when the
church was split into parties by paltry disputes, they would have
thought the controversy about the time of keeping Easter of more
consequence than the event itself, which that festival celebrates."
"My dear sir," said I, as soon as he had done speaking, "you have
accounted very naturally for your prejudices. Your chief error seems to
have consisted in the selection of the persons you adopted as standards.
They all differed as much from the right as they differed from each
other; and the truth is, their vehement desire to differ from each
other, was a chief cause why they departed so much from the right. But
your instances were so unhappily chosen, that they prove nothing against
Christianity. The two opposite descriptions of persons who deterred you
from religion, and who passed muster in their respective corps, under
the generic term of religious, would, I believe, be scarcely
acknowledged as such by the soberly and the soundly pious."
"My own subsequent experience," resumed Mr. Carlton, "has confirmed the
justness of your remark. When I began, through the gradual change
wrought in my views and actions, by the silent, but powerful preaching
of Mrs. Carlton's example, to have less interest in believing that
Christianity was false, I then applied myself to search for reasons to
believe that it was true. But plain, abstract reasoning, though it might
catch hold on beings who are all pure intellect, and though it might
have given a right bias even to _my_ opinions, would probably never have
determined my conduct, unless I saw it clothed, as it were, with a body.
I wanted examples which should influence me to act, as well as proofs
which should incline me to believe; something which would teach me what
to do, as well as what to think. I wanted exemplifications as well as
precepts. I doubted of all merely speculative truth. I wanted, from
beholding the effect, to refer back to the principle. I wanted arguments
more palpable and less theoretic. Surely, said I to myself, if religion
be a principle, it must be an operative one, and I would rationally
infer that Christianity were true, if the tone of Christian practice
were high.
"I began to look clandestinely into Henrietta's Bible. There I indeed
found that the spirit of religion was invested with just such a body as
I had wished to see; that it exhibited actions as well as sentiments,
characters, as well as doctrines; the life portrayed evidently governed
by the principle inculcated; the conduct and the doctrine in just
correspondence. But if the Bible be true, thought I, may we not
reasonably expect that the principles which once produced the exalted
practice which that Bible records, will produce similar effects now?
"I put, rashly perhaps, the truth of Christianity on this issue, and
sought society of a higher stamp. Fortunately the increasing external
decorum of my conduct began to make my reception less difficult among
good men than it had been. Hitherto, and that for the sake of my wife,
my visits had rather been endured than encouraged; nor was I myself
forward to seek the society which shunned me. Even with those superior
characters with whom I did occasionally associate, I had not come near
enough to form an exact estimate.
"DISINTERESTEDNESS and CONSISTENCY had become with me a sort of
touchstone, by which to try the characters I was investigating. My
experiment was favorable. I had for some time observed my wife's
conduct, with a mixture of admiration as to the act, and incredulity as
to the motive. I had seen her foregoing her own indulgences, that she
might augment those of a husband whom she had so little reason to love.
Here were the two qualities I required, with a renunciation of self
without parade or profession. Still this was a solitary instance. When
on a nearer survey, I beheld Dr. Barlow exhibiting by his exemplary
conduct during the week, the best commentary on his Sunday's sermon:
when I saw him refuse a living of nearly twice the value of that he
possessed, because the change would diminish his usefulness, I was
_staggered_.
"When I saw Mr. and Mrs. Stanley spending their time and fortune as
entirely in acts of beneficence, as if they had built their eternal
hope on charity alone, and yet utterly renouncing any such confidence,
and trusting entirely to another foundation;--when I saw Lucilla, a girl
of eighteen, refuse a young nobleman of a clear estate, and neither
disagreeable in his person or manner, on the single avowed ground of his
loose principles; when the noble rejection of the daughter was supported
by the parents, whose principles no arguments drawn from rank or fortune
could subvert or shake--I was _convinced_.
"These, and some other instances of the same nature, were exactly the
test I had been seeking. Here was _disinterestedness_ upon full proof.
Here was _consistency_ between practice and profession. By such
examples, and by cordially adopting those principles which produced
them, together with a daily increasing sense of my past enormities, I
hope to become in time less unworthy of the wife to whom I owe my peace
on earth, and my hope in heaven."
The tears which had been collecting in Mrs. Carlton's eyes for some
time, now silently stole down her cheeks. Sir John and myself were
deeply affected with the frank and honest narrative to which we had been
listening. It raised in us an esteem and affection for the narrator
which has since been continually augmenting. I do not think the worse of
his state, for the difficulties which impeded it, nor that his
advancement will be less sure, because it has been gradual. His fear of
delusion has been a salutary guard. The apparent slowness of his
progress has arisen from his dread of self-deception, and the diligence
of his search is an indication of his sincerity.
"But did you not find," said I, "that the piety of these more correct
Christians drew upon them nearly as much censure and suspicion as the
indiscretion of the enthusiasts? and that the formal class who were
nearly as far removed from effective piety, as from wild fanaticism,
ran away with all the credit of religion?'"
"With those," replied Mr. Carlton, "who are on the watch to discredit
Christianity, no consistency can stand their determined opposition; but
the fair and candid inquirer will not reject the truth, when it forces
the truth on the mind with a clear and convincing evidence."
Though I had been joining in the general subject, yet my thoughts had
wandered from it to Lucilla ever since her noble rejection of Lord
Staunton had been named by Mr. Carlton as one of the causes which had
strengthened his unsteady faith. And while he and Sir John were talking
over their youthful connections, I resumed with Mrs. Carlton, who sat
next me, the interesting topic.
"Lord Staunton," said she, "is a relation, and not a very distant one,
of ours. He used to take more delight in Mr. Carlton's society when it
was less improving than he does now, that it is become really valuable;
yet he often visits us. Miss Stanley now and then indulges me with her
company for a day or two. In these visits Lord Staunton happened to meet
her two or three times. He was enchanted with her person and manners,
and exerted every art and faculty of pleasing, which it must be owned he
possesses. Though we should both have rejoiced in an alliance with the
excellent family at the Grove, through this sweet girl, I thought it my
duty not to conceal from her the irregularity of my cousin's conduct in
one particular instance, as well as the general looseness of his
religious principles. The caution was the more necessary, as he had so
much prudence and good breeding, as to behave with general propriety
when under our roof; and he allowed me to speak to him more freely than
any other person. When I talked seriously, he sometimes laughed, always
opposed, but was never angry.
"One day he arrived quite unexpectedly when Miss Stanley was with me. He
found us in my dressing-room reading together a _Dissertation on the
power of religion to change the heart_. Dreading some levity, I strove
to hide the book, but he took it out of my hand, and glancing his eye on
the title, he said, laughing, 'This is a foolish subject enough; a _good
heart_ does not want changing, and with a _bad_ one none of _us three_
have any thing to do.' Lucilla spoke not a syllable. All the light
things he uttered, and which he meant for wit, so far from raising a
smile, increased her gravity. She listened, but with some uneasiness, to
a desultory conversation between us, in which I attempted to assert the
power of the Almighty to rectify the mind, and alter the character. Lord
Staunton treated my assertion as a wild chimera, and said, 'He was sure
I had more understanding than to adopt such a methodistical notion;'
professing at the same time a vague admiration of virtue and goodness,
which, he said, bowing to Miss Stanley, were _natural_ where they
existed at all; that a good heart did not want mending, and a bad one
could not be mended, with other similar expressions, all implying
contempt of my position, and exclusive compliment to her.
"After dinner, Lucilla stole away from a conversation, which was not
very interesting to her, and carried her book to the summer-house,
knowing that Lord Staunton liked to sit long at table. But his lordship
missing her for whom the visit was meant, soon broke up the party, and
hearing which way she took, pursued her to the summer-house. After a
profusion of compliments, expressive of his high admiration, he declared
his passion in very strong and explicit terms, and requested her
permission to make proposals to her father, to which he conceived she
could have no possible objection.
"She thanked him with great politeness for his favorable opinion, but
frankly told him, that though extremely sensible of the honor he
intended her, thanks were all she had to offer in return; she earnestly
desired the business might go no further, and that he would spare
himself the trouble of an application to her father, who always kindly
allowed her to decide for herself in a concern of so much importance.
"Disappointed, shocked, and irritated at a rejection so wholly
unexpected, he insisted on knowing the cause. Was it his person? Was it
his fortune? Was it his understanding to which she objected? She
honestly assured him it was neither. His rank and fortune were above her
expectations. To his natural advantages there could be no reasonable
objection. He still vehemently insisted on her assigning the true cause.
She was then driven to the necessity of confessing that she feared his
principles were not those of a man with whom she could venture to trust
her own.
"He bore this reproof with more patience than she had expected. As she
had made no exception to his person and understanding, both of which he
rated very highly, he could better bear with the charge brought against
his principles, on which he did not set so great a value. She had indeed
wounded his pride, but not in the part where it was most vulnerable. 'If
that be all,' said he gayly, 'the objection is at an end; your charming
society will reform me, your influence will raise my principles, and
your example will change my character.'
"'What, my lord,' said she, her courage increasing with her indignation,
'this from _you_? From you, who declared only this morning, that the
work of changing the heart was too great for the Almighty himself? You
do not now scruple to declare that it is in _my_ power. That work which
is too hard for Omnipotence, your flattery would make me believe a weak
girl can accomplish. No, my lord, I will never add to the number of
those rash women who have risked their eternal happiness on this vain
hope. It would be too late to repent of my folly, after my presumption
had incurred its just punishment.'
"So saying, she left the summer-house with a polite dignity, which, as
he afterward told me, increased his passion, while it inflamed his pride
almost to madness. Finding she refused to appear, he quitted the house,
but not his design. His applications have since been repeated, but
though he has met with the firmest repulses, both from the parents and
the daughter, he can not be prevailed upon to relinquish his hope. It is
so far a misfortune to us, as Lucilla now never comes near us, except he
is known not to be in the country. Had the objection been to his person,
or fortune, he says, as it would have been substantial, it might have
been insuperable; but where the only ground of difference is mere matter
of opinion, he is sure that time and perseverance will conquer such a
chimerical objection."
I returned to the Grove, not only cured of every jealous feeling, but
transported with such a decisive proof of the dignity and purity of Miss
Stanley's mind.