stood no chance of carrying his point, without assistance, turned
round, and appealed to the Friend, who did not appear to have taken
any interest in the question. "Why, truly," said the Friend, "I
think with my neighbour opposite, that if thou wert more happy when
a boy, than thou art now, thou canst not have improved thy time as
thou oughtest to have done." "Well," said Mr. Sykes, "as this is
the first company in which I have ever heard the sentiment called
in question, I suppose I am along with a class of human beings of
a new order." "Perhaps thou art," rejoined the Friend, "and at any
rate thou must confess, that this new order of human beings, as thou
art pleased to term us, excel all thy former associates in one very
important point." "In what point, Sir?" inquired Mr. Sykes, in his
native tone. "Why in this: while thou and thy friends have outlived
your happiest days, we are now enjoying ours. Hence, while it is to
our advantage to live in a state of manhood, it would have been to
yours, to have continued in a state of childhood."
This remark re-established the reign of silence, which continued
undisturbed, till some children ran out from a few miserable-looking
huts, which stood near the roadside, and followed the coach for a
considerable distance, attempting to excite our generosity, by their
piteous moans, and antic gestures. "There, Sir," said Mr. Sykes,
"If you look out, you will see the picture of perfect happiness."
Our sagacious Friend, who appeared to have high purposes revolving
in his breast when not engaged in conversation, was rather startled
by this observation, as he had not seen the group of juvenile
beggars, by which we were annoyed; but on looking out, as requested,
he shrewdly replied, "I was not aware that perfect happiness was
reduced so low in life, as to become a common beggar." "Poverty,
Sir," said Mr. Sykes, "is no disgrace, and poor people are happy
as well as rich." "Very true," replied the Friend; "but it is a
disgrace to any parents, to train up their children to the practice
of begging. These children certainly look healthy and sprightly, but
if thou wert to be present when they return from an unsuccessful
race, thou wouldest see a picture of perfect sorrow." "Well,"
said Mr. Sykes, "they shall have one happy day," and immediately
tossed out a few halfpence. "Now," said the Friend, "if thou wilt
look back, probably thou wilt see a violent contention between
them; some crying because unable to get the prize, and some
fighting over the division of the spoil." "I suppose, Sir," Mr.
Sykes remarked sarcastically, "no one ever fought over any of your
scattered gifts." "I never saw any," the Friend replied, "as I am
not in the habit of scattering my gifts with an indiscriminate
hand; nor do I approve of those acts, misnamed charitable, which
have an evil tendency." "But, Sir," said Mr. Sykes, "what evil can
result from giving a few pence to some poor miserable-looking boys
and girls?" "Why," replied the Friend, "thou hast seen one evil
in the contention which immediately followed, but this is not the
greatest; these children who are initiated into the begging system
at such an early period of life, are taught the art of deception;
they are thrown off from the resources of industry and frugality,
on the precarious supplies of charity; and if from the influence of
vagrancy, they are not led to thieving, they will never feel any
reluctance to receive support from the parish rate. Charity is a
virtue which we all admire, and which we ought to cultivate; but
I have long thought, that where its bounties are not administered
with discretion, society sustains more injury, than it derives
advantage." "Discretion! O yes, discretion!" said Mr. Sykes, "is
a great virtue; with Sir John Falstaff it is the better part of
valour, with you of charity; but in my opinion it is more frequently
an apology for cowardice, or for covetousness."
[Illustration: JAMES GODWIN. W. L. THOMAS.
MISTAKEN CHARITY.--MR. SYKES' THEORY REFUTED.
Vol. ii. p. 55.]
We soon after parted with Mr. Sykes, when our sage Friend addressing
himself to Mr. Lewellin, said, "I have no doubt but the passenger
who has just left us has some excellencies, but he does not excel
in the art of rendering himself agreeable, an art which few learn,
and fewer practise; but it is one of great importance to personal
dignity and relative comfort."
His place in the coach was soon occupied by a young man in a
red coat, who was going to a fox-hunt near M----. He was very
loquacious, but his conversation turned principally on horses, and
dogs, and game, and the various qualifications of a good shot.
Mr. Lewellin made several efforts to introduce other topics, but
he could not succeed, as no pointer ever stood truer to his bird,
than he did to his favourite theme. He told us of his hair-breadth
escapes, of the fatigues which he had endured, and the feats which
he had achieved, with as much glee as the huntsman throws off at
a chase; and dwelt with peculiar delight on his good fortune the
preceding day, when out of twenty-five who started, he was the
only one _in at the death_, and exhibited the _brush_ as the proud
memorial of his honour. After he had told and re-told his tales,
which gave no one pleasure but himself, he fell into a dead silence,
hummed "Old Towler," and commenced beating a sort of tattoo with
his fingers on the coach window. At length, turning himself to
the Friend who sat by his side, and whose patriarchal simplicity
appeared to amuse him, he said, with an air of low satire, "I
believe, Sir, your sect are not much given to such sports?" "Why,
no," replied the Friend, "we have too much humanity, to attempt
to extract pleasure from the sports which inflict torture on dumb
animals." "I have read," said the sportsman, "all your objections;
but, Sir, they have no point--they don't hit the mark--nature
points to game, and we are to follow. I love the sound of the horn,
more than the silence of meditation." "I have no doubt," said the
Friend, "that thou dost, but thou shouldst remember, that some
prefer silence, to noise." "I take you, Sir; you intend to say,
that you would rather have silence, than my conversation." "I have
no objection," the Friend replied, "to conversation, when it is
interesting or profitable, but thou must be aware, that the present
company take no interest in the detail of thy field achievements."
"Well, Sir," said the sportsman, "I have no objection to turn the
conversation to a graver subject; and as I am a young man, just
beginning to turn my attention to religion, you will permit me to
ask you one question, which puzzles me. It is this, Sir: As we have
so many religions in this kingdom, which is the best?" "Why," said
the Friend, "that which makes the simple wise, and teaches young men
to cultivate the grace of modesty." "Very smart, Sir: then you think
such a religion would do me good?" "I think it would."
When the sportsman left us, his place was immediately occupied by
a gentleman who, as I afterwards learned, had lately returned to
England, after an absence of many years. He was an interesting and
intelligent looking man; and I flattered myself from his general
appearance, that we should have agreeable society during the rest
of our journey. Nor was I disappointed. He was rather reserved
at first, but after Mr. Lewellin and I had engaged for some time
in a desultory conversation, he fell in with us, and willingly
contributed his share. There is a strong propensity in some minds
to sacrifice truth, in narration and description, especially when
relating their own adventures. They will not utter direct and
palpable falsehood, but they are so accustomed to exaggeration
and high colouring, that a man who respects his own reputation
will never venture to repeat their statements. Their design is to
produce _effect_, and hence they often leave the beaten path of
sober truth to amuse or astonish their hearers with the fanciful
or the extravagant. But nothing of this kind was visible in our
companion; as he gave us no description of persons, of places, or of
things, which staggered our belief. He had sailed on the boisterous
sea, without having just escaped the horrors of shipwreck; he had
passed through woods and mountains, without encountering brigands
or assassins; he had resided in crowded cities, and had traversed
lonely wastes, where he met with no flattering attentions from the
great, or rude insults from the vulgar. He had travelled through the
greater part of Europe, had visited the East and West Indies, and
had spent the last two years in America: but intended now to fix his
abode in his native country, where he said he hoped to rest in the
same grave with his fathers.
"You have seen, Sir," I remarked, "a great part of the world; but as
you intend to fix your final residence in Old England, I take for
granted that you have not discovered any country which rivals her in
your estimation."
"No, Sir," he replied, "I have not. I love England--I love her
changing seasons, and her fruitful soil--her fine national
character--her political constitution, and that spirit of liberty,
both civil and religious, which she cherishes and which she
diffuses--I love everything that is English; and I disown the
Briton who is not enthusiastic in the praise of his country."
"The love of liberty," I remarked, "is a passion which gives a
peculiar and powerful energy to our national character; but you must
confess, Sir, that this passion is not exclusively ours. America
cherishes it with an equal degree of ardour."
"Yes, Sir," he replied, "she does, but her love of liberty is a
selfish passion. She has fought for her own freedom, and she has
won the laurels, but she continues to enslave others. When the
foot of a poor captive touches the soil of Britain, his chains
burst from around him; his life is taken under the protection of
the law; no one can insult him with impunity; he is as safe in his
hut, as the lordly baron is within the walls of his castle. But in
the United States of America, there are upwards of three millions
of human beings, now living in a state of slavery, bought and sold
like cattle--subjected to the cruelty of men, in whose bosoms
every atom of humanity has long since been annihilated. What, Sir,
is freedom, where all are not free--where the greatest of God's
blessings is limited with impious caprice to the colour of the skin?
Having bled at every pore, rather than submit to wear the yoke of
a foreign authority, why does she not, amid all her prosperity
and improvement, act a just and generous part towards her black
population? She is worse than the chief butler of Pharaoh, who, when
he had gained his freedom, merely forgot his fellow-prisoner: but
she remembers those who were once in bondage with her, and rivets
the chains of slavery still closer upon them. She may vaunt herself
on the love of liberty, and on her rising greatness in the scale of
nations; but as long as the groans of three millions of human beings
resound through her land without obtaining redress, she will have
a badge of infamy affixed to her national character, from which no
virtues will ever redeem her. We did a noble deed when we abolished
the slave-trade, but we did a still nobler deed when we abolished
slavery. We have thus set America a good example, which, in spite of
all opposition, she will some day follow."
We were very much pleased with the polite manners and the
interesting conversation of this gentleman, who formed a striking
contrast to our other coach companions. On taking leave of him at
the Swan with two Necks, we exchanged cards, when we found that the
stranger's name was Wilcox, and he exacted a promise from me that I
would call and see him before I left London.
A few days after this, as I sat in Mr. Lewellin's front parlour
listening to the strange cries of London, and observing the
countenances of the numerous pedestrians, who, with hurried steps,
passed to and fro, as though each was intent on some great purpose,
I saw the postman at the door, who brought me a letter, which
on opening I found to be from our interesting fellow-traveller,
requesting that we would dine with him on the following day. We
accepted the invitation, and spent a very pleasant evening together.
On this occasion Mr. Wilcox informed us that he had been pressed
to sign a petition for the repeal of the Maynooth grant; but had
declined doing so, because he knew nothing about its origin, or the
reasons which induced the government to make it; adding that, as a
general rule, he thought America acted more wisely than we do on all
such questions; she repudiates a _state religion_, and therefore
leaves every religious sect to act and provide for itself. I then
gave him a brief history of the matter as follows:--On the 14th of
January, 1794, the Roman Catholics of Ireland presented a memorial
to the government, praying for permission to erect a college for
the education of their priests, who, up to this time, had been
compelled to get their education in foreign countries; stating in
their memorial, that they were both able and willing to build the
college, and defray its current expenditure at their own expense.
Their prayer was granted: and to their astonishment the Irish
Parliament voted a grant of £8000 per annum towards its support,
which in the year 1807 was increased to £13,000. No pledge was given
that it should be a permanent grant, and as a proof of this, in the
year 1799 it was withheld altogether, and during that year they
were compelled to do what they said, when they declared that they
were able and willing to defray its expenses by their own voluntary
contributions.[9]
[9] In 1845 Sir Robert Peel introduced a measure, and carried it, to
increase this grant to nearly £30,000 a-year.
"It seems somewhat strange," said Mr. Wilcox, "that the government
should vote a large sum of money, when they are told that it
is neither expected nor needed. To account for such an act of
profligate expenditure, we must suppose there was a strong
undercurrent of political influence forcing them to do so."
"Why, Sir, the fact is, that Ireland was at this time, and for
a long time after, in a strongly excited state; one outburst
of popular tumult succeeded another, with so much rapidity and
violence, that our leading statesmen, both Whigs and Tories,
became alarmed, and they hit upon the expedient of attempting to
conciliate the priests, by proposing to take their church into union
with the state, and thus render them independent of the voluntary
contributions of their people; and this munificent generosity in
behalf of the Maynooth College, was the gilded bait of allurement.
However, that projected union is now abandoned as a Utopian vagary;
for the Roman Catholics disdain to come into ecclesiastical
fellowship with Protestants, and therefore common sense requires,
that as they are resolved to stand by themselves, they should be
left to do what they said they were able and willing to do--educate
and support their clergy by their own contributions."
"I think the principle is bad," said Mr. Wilcox, "both politically
and morally, which compels one sect to educate and support the
clergy of another sect. There is an outrage committed on the
conscience of an enlightened Protestant, if he be compelled to
contribute to the education and support of the Roman Catholic
clergy, not simply because they are the ministers of another church,
but because they are ministers who, in his estimation, reject the
essential doctrines of Christianity, and substitute in their place,
dangerous and fatal heresies; and not only so, but he believes, and
their past history confirms him in the belief, that they constitute
the vital, the most active, and the most unscrupulous part of an
organized conspiracy, whose object is to extinguish both civil and
religious liberty throughout the world."
"Toleration," said Mr. Lewellin, "is all that such a dangerous set
of men ought to receive under a Protestant government, and to that I
should not object; but it is an act of legalized injustice to compel
me to pay for the training and comfortable support of Roman Catholic
priests."
Mr. Wilcox remarked, "We don't punish the footpad till he has
committed his crime; but we should deem the wealthy traveller
a maniac at large, who would voluntarily contribute towards
the training of such desperadoes. I will certainly, now that I
understand the matter, sign for the repeal of the grant, and do
all in my power to hasten it. Indeed, I would not give my vote to
any parliamentary candidate, unless he pledged himself against the
continuance of this very obnoxious grant."
"My attachment to Christianity," said Mr. Lewellin, "makes me revolt
against this offensive grant, as my loyalty to our queen would make
me abhor a proposition to contribute to the training of traitors, to
subvert her throne and bring her to the block."[10]
[10] When Lord John Russell was speaking in favour of the measure
brought before the house by Sir Robert Peel in 1845, to increase
the grant to nearly £30,000 per annum, he said--"But if you found
you were doing that which was mischievous to the community, and
that the religious scruples of the community would not allow of the
continuance of the grant, or, with reference to civil and political
reasons, you found that those you meant to be teachers of religion
had become the teachers and conductors of rebellion; if I say," his
lordship added, "you found from any of these causes that there was
ground sufficient to refuse this grant, then I can see no valid
reasons why any compact should restrain you, or why, upon strong
grounds of this kind, the house would not be justified in declaring
that it would give no further allowance." (See Hansard's _Debates_,
v. 3, p. 92, session 1845.) The Right Hon. William Gladstone, M.P.,
recorded his opinion of this grant, before Sir Robert Peel brought
forward his measure in 1845. "In principle the grant is wholly
vicious, and it will be a thorn in the side of these countries as
long as it is continued." There are several reasons, which, in the
judgment of Lord John Russell, would justify the discontinuance
of this grant, without subjecting our government to the charge of
violating any existing compact; but I merely mention the following,
which I give from the speech of his lordship: if "_the religious
scruples of the community would not allow of the continuance of
it_." Now let us see how the case actually stands, and then we shall
be able to form a correct judgment of what the British government
and we ourselves ought to do. It is an undisputed fact, that the
measure of 1845 was forced through parliament in direct opposition
to the most unequivocal expression of hostility on the part of the
religious community, of all denominations; and their hostility to
its continuance is increasing in inveteracy and strength as time
moves on in its course. I am at a loss to conceive how any one
except a Roman Catholic who has a beneficial interest in this money
grant, or a lukewarm Protestant, who cares no more for the spiritual
religion of the New Testament than he does for the legendary
tales of Popery, can come forward as its advocate and supporter.
The Catholics say they are able and willing to support their own
religion and its institutions. Let them do so; but do not compel us
to work with them, when we believe that their religion, with its
institutions, is the greatest curse that ever has been inflicted on
man since the Fall; and when we believe that its clergy, if they had
the power, would immediately establish the Inquisition amongst us,
and at once consign us to torture and to death, if we refused to bow
down and to do homage to their pontiff and his myrmidons.
A SABBATH IN LONDON.
In the institution of the Christian ministry, we have one of the
most salutary provisions ever made to promote the improvement and
happiness of man. If we suppose, with the enemies of Christianity,
that it is of human origin, and that its functions are discharged by
human agents, who are actuated and governed by selfish or ambitious
motives, still it will occupy, in the estimation of every wise man,
a high station, as a powerful ally to the cause of patriotism and
of virtue. It enjoins on the various ranks and orders of society
submission to the powers that be, and reverence for God; and it
explains and enforces, with the utmost precision, our relative
duties towards each other; while the veneration in which it is
generally held in this kingdom is favourable to its influence. To
say that every one is strictly virtuous who listens to its maxims
of wisdom, would be to advance an assertion which facts would
contradict; but if we judge from the present state of society, we
shall be compelled to admit that there is a larger portion of virtue
amongst those who attend upon a stated ministry, than among those
who treat it with neglect and scorn. Hence its abolition would be a
national evil, as disastrous to our moral improvement and happiness,
as the triumphs of political anarchy would be to the well-balanced
constitution of the British Empire.
But even this institution, with all its advantages, would prove
comparatively useless were it not for the appointment of the
Christian Sabbath; for such is the ascendency which the cares,
the pleasures, the fascinations, and the commerce of the world
have acquired over the public mind, that very few would have an
opportunity to benefit by it, unless some specific portion of time
was set apart for this express purpose. If the husbandman were
compelled to toil in the field, and the mechanic to labour in the
shop--if the tradesman, the merchant, and the other members of the
community had to devote themselves to their respective avocations
without any intermission, except what caprice or indolence might
dictate, the minister of the gospel might faithfully proclaim all
the words which relate to the life to come, but he would not be
surrounded by a large and an attentive audience. The temple would
be forsaken, and the powers of _this_ world would so engross the
attention of men, that those of the next would be generally, if not
universally disregarded. To prevent this fatal evil, one day in
seven is set apart, by the immediate authority of God, which we are
commanded to devote to the exercises of private and public worship;
but alas! how many treat this sacred injunction with contempt. Some
in the higher ranks of life, who disdain to be thought religious,
employ it as a day for travelling or for feasting; and multitudes
of the lower orders, regard it as a day either for pleasure or for
dissipation.
On the Sabbath after my arrival in London, as I was walking down
Bridge Street on my way to Surrey Chapel, I saw a party of young
people whose gaiety of manner ill accorded with the sanctity of
the day, and just as I was passing them I heard one say, "Indeed I
think we shall do wrong; my conscience condemns me; I must return."
"There can be no harm," replied another, "in taking an excursion on
the water, especially as we intend to go to chapel in the evening."
"I must return," rejoined a female voice; "my conscience condemns
me. What will father say if he hears of it?" By this time they had
reached the bridge, and the foremost of the party was busily engaged
with a waterman, while the rest stood in close debate for some
minutes, when they all moved forward towards the water.
I watched the party as they went down the stairs to the river.
Two of the gentlemen stepped into the boat, two more stood at the
water's edge, and the females were handed in one after another; but
I could perceive great reluctance on the part of the one who had
previously objected, till at length she yielded to the importunities
of her companions, and the boat was pushed off. It was a fine
morning, though rather cold. Many, like myself, were gazing on
them, when a naval officer called to them through the balustrades
and said, "A pleasant voyage to you." One of the gentlemen arose
to return the compliment, but, from some cause which I could not
perceive, he missed his footing and fell into the water. This
disaster threw the whole party into the utmost consternation; and
each one, instead of retaining his seat, rushed to the side of the
boat over which their companion had fallen, by which the boat was
upset, and all were instantaneously plunged into the river. The
scene which followed, when the spectators beheld this calamity,
exceeded any I had ever witnessed. Some females screamed, the
passers-by crowded together to the parapet of the bridge, and
everything was bustle and excitement; boats immediately put off;
and in a few minutes I had the satisfaction of seeing the watermen
rescue one, and another, and another from a premature grave. Having
picked up every one they could find, the different boats were rowed
to shore, where some medical gentlemen were in waiting. But when the
party met together, no language can describe the horror depicted on
every countenance when they found that two were still missing.