Dr. Barlow came to the Grove to take leave of our friends. He found Sir
John and I sitting in the library with Mr. Stanley. "As I came from Mr.
Tyrrel," said the Doctor, "I met Mr. Flam going to see him. He seemed so
anxious about his old friend that a wish strongly presented itself to my
mind that the awful situation of the sick man might be salutary to him.
"It is impossible to say," continued he, "what injury religion has
suffered from the opposite characters of these two men. Flam, who gives
himself no concern about the matter, is kind and generous; while Tyrrel,
who has made a high profession, is mean and sordid. It has been said, of
what use is religion when morality has made Mr. Flam a better man than
religion makes Mr. Tyrrel? Thus men of the world reason! But nothing can
be more false than their conclusions. Flam is naturally an open,
warm-hearted man, but incorrect in many respects, and rather loose in
his principles. His natural good propensities religion would have
improved into solid virtues, and would have cured the more
exceptionable parts of his character. But from religion he stands aloof.
"Tyrrel is naturally narrow and selfish. Religion has not made but found
him such. But what a religion has he adopted! A mere assumption of
terms; a dead, inoperative, uninfluencing notion, which he has taken up;
not, I hope, with a view to deceive others, but by which he has grossly
deceived himself. He had heard that religion was a cure for an uneasy
mind; but he did not attend to the means by which the cure is effected,
and it relieved not him.
"The corrupt principle whence his vices proceeded was not subdued. He
did not desire to subdue it, because in the struggle he must have parted
with what he was resolved to keep. He adopted what he believed was a
cheap and easy religion; little aware that the great fundamental
Scripture doctrine of salvation by Jesus Christ was a doctrine
powerfully opposing our corruptions, and involving in its comprehensive
requirements a new heart and a new life."
At this moment Mr. Flam called at the Grove. "I am just come from
Tyrrel," said he. "I fear it is nearly over with him. Poor Ned! he is
very low, almost in despair. I always told him that the time would come
when he would be glad to exchange notions for actions. I am grieved for
him. The remembrance of a kind deed or two done to a poor tenant would
be some comfort to him now at a time when every man stands in need of
comfort."
"Sir," said Dr. Barlow, "the scene which I have lately witnessed at Mr.
Tyrrel's makes me serious. If you and I were alone, I am afraid it would
make me bold. I will, however, suppress the answer I was tempted to make
you, because I should not think it prudent or respectful to utter before
company what, I am persuaded, your good sense would permit me to say
were we alone!"
"Doctor," replied the good-tempered, but thoughtless man, "don't stand
upon ceremony. You know I love a debate, and I insist on your saying
what was in your mind to say. I don't fear getting out of any scrape you
can bring me into. You are too well-bred to offend, and I hope I am too
well-natured to be easily offended. Stanley, I know, always takes your
side. Sir John, I trust, will take mine; and so will the young man here,
if he is like most other young men."
"Allow me then to observe," returned Dr. Barlow, "that if Mr. Tyrrel has
unhappily deceived himself by resting too exclusively on a mere
speculative faith--a faith which by his conduct did not evince itself to
be of the right sort--yet, on the other hand, a dependence for salvation
on our own benevolence, our own integrity, or any other good quality we
may possess, is an error not less fatal, and far more usual. Such a
dependence does as practically set at naught the Redeemer's sacrifice as
the avowed rejection of the infidel. Honesty and benevolence are among
the noblest qualities; but where the one is practiced for reputation,
and the other from mere feeling, they are sadly delusive as to the ends
of practical goodness. They have both indeed their reward; integrity, in
the credit it brings, and benevolence, in the pleasure it yields. Both
are beneficial to society: both therefore are politically valuable. Both
sometimes lead me to admire the ordinations of that overruling power
which often uses as instruments of public good, men who, acting well in
many respects, are essentially useful to others; but, who, acting from
motives merely human, forfeit for themselves that high reward which
those virtues would obtain, if they were evidences of a lively faith,
and the results of Christian principle. Think me not severe, Mr. Flam.
To be personal is always extremely painful to me."
"No, no, Doctor," replied he, "I know you mean well. 'Tis your trade to
give good counsel; and your lot, I suppose, to have it seldom followed.
I shall hear you without being angry. You, in turn, must not be angry,
if I hear you without being better."
"I respect you, sir, too much," replied Dr. Barlow, "to deceive you in a
matter of such infinite importance. For one man who errs on Mr. Tyrrel's
principle, a hundred err on yours. His mistake is equally pernicious,
but it is not equally common. I must repeat it. For one whose soul is
endangered through an unwarranted dependence on the Saviour, multitudes
are destroyed, not only by the open rejection, but through a fatal
neglect of the salvation wrought by him. Many more perish through a
presumptuous confidence in their own merits, than through an
unscriptural trust in the merits of Christ."
"Well, Doctor," replied Mr. Flam, "I must say that I think an ounce of
morality will go further toward making up my accounts than a ton of
religion, for which no one but myself would be the better."
"My dear sir," said Dr. Barlow, "I will not presume to determine between
the exact comparative proportions of two ingredients, both of which are
so indispensable in the composition of a Christian. I dare not hazard
the assertion, which of the two is the more perilous state, but I think
I am justified in saying which of the two cases occurs most frequently."
Mr. Flam said: "I should be sorry, Dr. Barlow, to find out at this time
of day that I have been all my life long in an error."
"Believe me, sir," said Dr. Barlow, "it is better to find it out now
than at a still later period. One good quality can never be made to
supply the absence of another. There are no substitutes in this warfare.
Nor can all the good qualities put together, if we could suppose them to
unite in one man, and to exist without religion, stand proxy for the
death of Christ. If they could so exist, it would be in the degree only,
and not in the perfection required by that law which said, do _this and
live_. So kind a neighbor as you are, so honest a gentleman, so generous
a master, as you are allowed to be, I can not, sir, think without pain
of your losing the reward of such valuable qualities, by your placing
your hope of eternal happiness in the exercise of them. Believe me, Mr.
Flam, it is easier for a compassionate man, if he be not religious, to
'give all his goods to the poor,' than to bring every thought, 'nay than
to bring _any_ thought' into captivity to the obedience of Christ! But
be assured, if we give ever so much with our hands, while we withhold
our hearts from God, though we may do much good to others, we do none to
ourselves."
"Why surely," said Mr. Flam, "you don't mean to insinuate that I should
be in a safer state if I never did a kind thing?"
"Quite the contrary," replied Dr. Barlow, "but I could wish to see your
good actions exalted, by springing from a higher principle, I mean the
love of God; ennobled by being practiced to a higher end, and purified
by your renouncing all self-complacency in the performance."
"But is there not less danger, sir," said Mr. Flam, "in being somewhat
proud of what one really _does_, than in doing nothing? And is it not
more excusable to be a little satisfied with what one really _is_, than
in hypocritically pretending to be what one is _not_?"
"I must repeat," returned Dr. Barlow, "that I can not exactly decide on
the question of relative enormity between two opposite sins. I can not
pronounce which is the best of two states so very bad."
"Why now, Doctor," said Mr. Flam, "what particular sin can you charge me
with?"
"I erect not myself into an accuser," replied Dr. Barlow; "but permit me
to ask you, sir, from what motive is it that you avoid any wrong
practice? Is there any one sin from which you abstain through the fear
of offending your Maker?"
"As to that," replied Mr. Flam, "I can't say I ever considered about the
motive of the thing. I thought it was quite enough not to do it. Well
but, Doctor, since we are gone so far in the catechism, what duty to my
neighbor can you convict me of omitting?"
"It will be well, sir," said the Doctor, "if you can indeed stand so
close a scrutiny, as that to which you challenge me, even on your own
principles. But tell me, with that frank honesty which marks your
character, does your kindness to your neighbor spring from the true
fountain, the love of God? That you do many right things I am most
willing to allow. But do you perform them from a sense of obedience to
the law of your Maker? Do you perform them because they are commanded in
his word, and conformable to his will?"
"I can't say I do," said Mr. Flam, "but if the thing be right in itself,
that appears to me to be all in all. It seems hard to encumber a man of
business like me with the action and the motive too. Surely if I serve a
man, it can make no difference to him, _why_ I serve him."
"To yourself, my dear sir," said the Doctor, "it makes all the
difference in the world. Besides, good actions performed on any other
principle than obedience, are not only spurious as to their birth, but
they are defective in themselves; they commonly want something in weight
and measure."
"Why, Doctor," said Mr. Flam, "I have often heard you say in the pulpit
that the best are not perfect. Now as this is the case, I will tell you
how I manage. I think it a safe way to average one's good qualities, to
throw a bad one against a good one, and if the balance sinks on the
right side the man is safe."
Dr. Barlow shook his head, and was beginning to express his regret at
such delusive casuistry, when Mr. Flam interrupted him by saying, "Well,
Doctor, my great care in life has been to avoid all suspicion of
hypocrisy."
"You can not do better," replied Dr. Barlow, "than to avoid its
_reality_. But, for my own part, I believe religious hypocrisy to be
rather a rare vice among persons of your station in life. Among the
vulgar, indeed, I fear it is not so rare. In neighborhoods where there
is much real piety, there is no small danger of some false profession.
But among the higher classes of society, serious religion confers so
little credit on him who professes it, that a gentleman is not likely to
put on appearances from which he knows he is far more likely to lose
reputation than to acquire it. When such a man, therefore, assumes the
character of piety, I own I always feel disposed to give him full credit
for possessing it. His religion may indeed be mistaken; it may be
defective; it may even be unsound; but the chances are very much in
favor of its not being insincere. Where piety is genuine it can not be
altogether concealed. Where 'the fruits of the Spirit abound, they will
appear.'"
"Now, my dear Doctor," replied Mr. Flam, "is not that cant? What do you
mean by the fruits of the Spirit? Would it not have been more worthy of
your good sense to have said morality or virtue? Would not these terms
have been more simple and intelligible?"
"They might be so," rejoined the Doctor, "but they would not rise quite
so high. They would not take in my _whole_ meaning. The fruit of the
Spirit indeed always includes _your_ meaning, but it includes much more.
It is something higher than worldly morality, something holier than
mere human virtue. I rather conceive morality, in your sense, to be the
effect of natural temper, natural conscience, or worldly prudence, or
perhaps a combination of all three. The fruit of the Spirit is the
morality of the renewed heart. Worldly morality is easily satisfied with
itself. It sits down contented with its own meagre performances; with
legal honesty, with bare weight justice. It seldom gives a particle
'that is not in the bond.' It is always making out its claim to doubtful
indulgences; it litigates its right to every inch of contested
enjoyment; and is so fearful of not getting enough, that it commonly
takes more than its due. It is one of the cases where 'the letter
killeth, but the spirit giveth life.'
"It obtains, however, its worldly reward. It procures a good degree of
respect and commendation; but it is not attended by the silent train of
the Christian graces, with that 'joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness,
goodness, faith,' which are the fruits of the Spirit, and the evidences
of a Christian. These graces are calculated to adorn all that is right
with all that is amiable, 'whatsoever things are honest and just,' with
'whatsoever things are lovely and of good report.' And, to crown all,
they add the deepest humility and most unfeigned self-abasement, to the
most correct course of conduct, a course of conduct which, though a
Christian never thinks himself at liberty to neglect, he never feels
himself permitted or disposed to be proud of!"
"Well, well, Doctor," said Mr. Flam, "I never denied the truth of
Christianity, as Carlton formerly did. 'Tis the religion of the country
by law established. And I often go to church, because that too is
established by law, for which you know I have a great veneration. 'Tis
the religion of my ancestors, I like it for that too."
"But, sir," said the Doctor, "would you not show your veneration for the
church more fully if you attended it twice instead of once? And your
veneration for the law, if instead of going sometimes, you went every
Sunday, which you know both the law of God and man enjoins."
"Why, unluckily," returned Mr. Flam, "the hour of service interferes
with that of dinner."
"Sir," said Dr. Barlow, smiling, "hours are so altered that I believe if
the church were to new model the calendar, she would say that dinners
ought to be placed among the _moveable feasts_. An hour earlier or later
would accommodate the difference, liberate your servants, and enable you
to do a thing right in itself, and beneficial in its example."
Mr. Flam not being prepared with an answer, went on with his confession
of faith. "Doctor," said he, "I am a better Christian than you think. I
take it for granted that the Bible is true, for I have heard many men
say, who have examined for themselves, which I can not say I have ever
had time or inclination to do, that no opposer has ever yet refuted the
Scripture account of miracles and prophecies. So if you don't call this
being a good Christian, I don't know what is."
Dr. Barlow replied, "Nothing can be better as far as it goes. But allow
me to say, that there is another kind of evidence of the truth of our
religion, which is peculiar to the real Christian. I mean that evidence
which arises from his individual conviction of the efficacy of
Christianity in remedying the disorders of his own nature. He who has
had his own temper improved, his evil propensities subdued, and his
whole character formed anew, by being cast in the mold of Christianity,
will have little doubt of the truth of a religion which has produced
such obvious effects in himself. The truths for which his reason pleads,
and in which his understanding, after much examination, is able to rest,
having had a purifying influence on his heart, become established
principles, producing in him at the same time holiness of life and
peace of conscience. The stronger evidence a man has of his own internal
improvement, the stronger will be his conviction of the truth of the
religion he professes."
"There are worse men than I am, Doctor," said Mr. Flam, rather
seriously.
"Sir," replied he, "I heartily wish every gentleman had your good
qualities. But as we shall be judged positively and not comparatively;
as our characters will be finally decided upon, not by our superiority
to other men, nor merely by our inferiority to the divine rule, but by
our departure from it, I wish you would begin to square your life by
that rule now; which, in order that you may do, you should begin to
study it. While we live in a total neglect of the Bible, we must not
talk of our deficiencies, our failings, our imperfections, as if these
alone stood between us and the mercy of God. That indeed is the language
and the state of the devout Christian. Stronger terms must be used to
express the alienation of heart of those, who, living in the avowed
neglect of Scripture, maybe said, forgive me, sir, 'to live without God
in the world.' Ignorance is no plea in a gentleman. In a land of light
and knowledge, ignorance itself is a sin."
Here Dr. Barlow being silent, and Mr. Flam not being prepared to answer,
Mr. Stanley said, "That the pure and virtuous dispositions which arise
out of a sincere belief of Christianity, are not more frequently seen in
persons professing themselves to be Christians, is, unhappily, one of
the strongest arguments against us that can be urged by unbelievers.
Instances, however, occur, which are too plain to be denied, of
individuals who, having been led by divine grace cordially to receive
Christianity, have exhibited in their conduct a very striking proof of
its excellence; and among these are some who, like our friend Carlton,
had previously led very corrupt lives. The ordinary class of Christians,
who indeed scarcely deserve the name, as well as skeptics and
unbelievers, would do well to mark the lives of the truly religious, and
to consider them as furnishing a proof which will come powerfully in aid
of that body of testimony with which Christianity is intrenched on all
sides. And these observers should remember, that though they themselves
may not yet possess that best evidence in favor of Christianity, which
arises from an inward sense of its purifying nature, they may
nevertheless aspire after it; and those who have any remaining doubts
should encourage themselves with the hope, that if they fully yield
themselves to the doctrines and precepts of the gospel, a salutary
change will in time be effected in their own hearts, which will furnish
them with irresistible evidence of its truth."
I could easily perceive, that though Mr. Stanley and Dr. Barlow
entertained small hopes of the beneficial effect of their discourse on
the person to whom it was directed; yet they prolonged it with an eye to
Sir John Belfield, who sat profoundly attentive, and encouraged them by
his looks.
As to Mr. Flam, it was amusing to observe the variety of his motions,
gestures, and contortions, and the pains he took to appear easy and
indifferent, and even victorious: sometimes fixing the end of his whip
on the floor, and whirling it around at full speed; then working it into
his boot; then making up his mouth for a whistle, but stopping short to
avoid being guilty of the incivility of interruption.
At length with the same invincible good nature, and with the same
pitiable insensibility to his own state, he arose to take leave. He
shook us all by the hand, Dr. Barlow twice, saying, "Doctor, I don't
think the worse of you for your plain speaking. He is a knave or a fool
that is angry with a good man for doing his duty. 'Tis my fault if I
don't take his advice; but 'tis his fault if he does not give it.
Parsons are paid for it, and ought not to be mealy-mouthed, when there
is a proper opening, such as poor Tyrrel's case gave you. I challenged
_you_. I should perhaps have been angry if you had challenged _me_. It
makes all the difference, in the event of a duel, which is the
challenger. As to myself, it is time enough for me to think of the
things you recommend. Thank God, I am in excellent good health and
spirits and am not yet quite fifty. 'There is a time for all things.'
Even the Bible allows that."
The Doctor shook his head at this sad misapplication of the text. Mr.
Flam went away, pressing us all to dine with him next day; he had killed
a fine buck, and he assured Dr. Barlow that he should have the best port
in his cellar. The Doctor pleaded want of time, and the rest of the
party could not afford a day, out of the few which remained to us; but
we promised to call on him. He nodded kindly at Dr. Barlow, saying,
"Well, Doctor, as you won't come to the buck, one of his haunches shall
come to you; so tell madam to expect it."
As soon as he had left the room, we all joined in lamenting that the
blessings of health and strength should ever be produced as arguments
for neglecting to secure those blessings which have eternity for their
object.
"Unhappy man!" said Dr. Barlow, "little does he think that he is, if
possible, more the object of my compassion than poor Mr. Tyrrel. Tyrrel,
it is true, is lying on a sick, probably a dying bed. His body is in
torture. His mind is in anguish. He has to look back on a life, the
retrospect of which can afford him no ray of comfort. But he _knows_ his
misery. The hand of God is upon him. His proud heart is brought low. His
self-confidence is subdued. His high imaginations are cast down. His
abasement of soul, as far as I can judge, is sincere. He abhors himself
in dust and ashes. He sees death at hand. He feels that the sting of
death is sin. All subterfuge is at an end. He is at last seeking the
only refuge of penitent sinners, I trust on right grounds. His state is
indeed perilous in the extreme; yet awful as it is, he _knows_ it. He
will not open his eyes on the eternal world in a state of delusion. But
what shall awaken poor Mr. Flam from his dream of security? His high
health, his unbroken spirits, his prosperous circumstances and various
blessings, are so many snares to him. He thinks that 'to-morrow shall be
as this day, and still more abundant.' Even the wretched situation of
his dying friend, though it awakens compassion, awakens not compunction.
Nay, it affords matter of triumph rather than of humiliation. He feeds
his vanity with comparisons from which he contrives to extract comfort.
His own offenses being of a different kind, instead of lamenting them,
he glories in being free from those which belong to an opposite cast of
character. Satisfied that he has not the vices of Tyrrel, he never once
reflects on his own unrepented sins. Even his good qualities increase
his danger. He wraps himself up in that constitutional good nature,
which, being partly founded on vanity and self-approbation, strengthens
his delusion, and hardens him against reproof."