TO awake the first night in a prison is a horrible thing. Is it
possible, I murmured, trying to collect my thoughts, is it possible I am
here? Is not all that passed a dream? Did they really seize me
yesterday? Was it I whom they examined from morning till night, who am
doomed to the same process day after day, and who wept so bitterly last
night when I thought of my dear parents? Slumber, the unbroken silence,
and rest had, in restoring my mental powers, added incalculably to the
capability of reflecting, and, consequently, of grief. There was nothing
to distract my attention; my fancy grew busy with absent forms, and
pictured, to my eye the pain and terror of my father and mother, and of
all dear to me, on first hearing the tidings of my arrest.
At this moment, said I, they are sleeping in peace; or perhaps, anxiety
for me may keep them watching, yet little anticipating the fate to which
I am here consigned. Happy for them, were it the will of God, that they
should cease to exist ere they hear of this horrible misfortune. Who
will give them strength to bear it? Some inward voice seemed to whisper
me, He whom the afflicted look up to, love and acknowledge in their
hearts; who enabled a mother to follow her son to the mount of Golgotha,
and to stand under His cross. He, the friend of the unhappy, the friend
of man.
Strange this should be the first time I truly felt the power of religion
in my heart; and to filial love did I owe this consolation. Though not
ill-disposed, I had hitherto been little impressed with its truth, and
had not well adhered to it. All common-place objections I estimated at
their just value, yet there were many doubts and sophisms which had
shaken my faith. It was long, indeed, since they had ceased to trouble
my belief in the existence of the Deity; and persuaded of this, it
followed necessarily, as part of His eternal justice, that there must be
another life for man who suffers so unjustly here. Hence, I argued, the
sovereign reason in man for aspiring to the possession of that second
life; and hence, too, a worship founded on the love of God, and of his
neighbour, and an unceasing impulse to dignify his nature by generous
sacrifices. I had already made myself familiar with this doctrine, and I
now repeated, “And what else is Christianity but this constant ambition
to elevate and dignify our nature?” and I was astonished, when I
reflected how pure, how philosophical, and how invulnerable the essence
of Christianity manifested itself, that there could come an epoch when
philosophy dared to assert, “From this time forth I will stand instead of
a religion like this.” And in what manner—by inculcating vice?
Certainly not. By teaching virtue? Why that will be to teach us to love
God and our neighbour; and that is precisely what Christianity has
already done, on far higher and purer motives. Yet, notwithstanding such
had, for years, been my opinion, I had failed to draw the conclusion,
Then be a Christian! No longer let corruption and abuses, the work of
man, deter you; no longer make stumbling-blocks of little points of
doctrine, since the principal point, made thus irresistibly clear, is to
love God and your neighbour.
In prison I finally determined to admit this conclusion, and I admitted
it. The fear, indeed, of appearing to others more religious than I had
before been, and to yield more to misfortune than to conviction, made me
sometimes hesitate; but feeling that I had done no wrong, I felt no
debasement, and cared nothing to encounter the possible reproaches I had
not deserved, resolving henceforward to declare myself openly a
Christian.