decision of their conduct to the impulses of their hearts, and the
dictates of their judgment. Let but their affections be consecrated
to the cause, and their understanding will be sufficiently fruitful
in expedients to promote it. Their husbands will be gently prevailed
upon to lay apart some of their substance to serve religion.
Their children will be nurtured in a missionary spirit, and learn
to associate with all their pleasures the records of missionary
privations and triumphs. They will solicit the repetition of the
often-told tale, and glow with a martyr's zeal for the salvation
of the souls of men. Listen to the eloquent appeal of a masterly
preacher on this subject:--'Christian matrons! from whose endeared
and endearing lips we first heard of the wondrous Babe of Bethlehem,
and were taught to bend our knee to Jesus--ye who first taught these
eagles how to soar, will ye now check their flight in the midst of
heaven? "I am weary," said the ambitious Cornelia, "of being called
Scipio's daughter; do something, my sons, to style me the mother
of the Gracchi." And what more laudable ambition can inspire you,
than a desire to be the mothers of the missionaries, confessors,
and martyrs of Jesus? Generations unborn shall call you blessed.
The churches of Asia and Africa, when they make grateful mention of
their founders, will say, "Blessed be the wombs which bare them, and
the breasts which they have sucked!" Ye wives also of the clergy,
let it not be said that while ye love the mild virtues of the man,
ye are incapable of alliance with the grandeur of the minister. The
wives of Christian soldiers should learn to rejoice at the sound of
the battle. Rouse, then, the slumbering courage of your soldiers to
the field; and think no place so safe, so honoured, as the camp of
Jesus. Tell the missionary story to your little ones, until their
young hearts burn, and in the spirit of those innocents who shouted
hosannah to their lowly King, they cry, "Shall not we also be the
missionaries of Jesus Christ?"' Such an appeal to Christian females
cannot be made in vain. They are not the triflers who balance a
feather against a soul. They will learn to retrench superfluities,
in order to exercise the grace of Christian charity. They will
emulate those Jewish women who 'worked with their hands for the
hangings of the tabernacle,' and brought 'bracelets, and ear-rings,
and jewels of gold,' for the service of the sanctuary. They will
consecrate their ornaments to the perishing heathen; and render
personal and domestic economy a fountain of spiritual blessings to
unenlightened nations, and to distant ages. They will resign the
gems of the East to save a soul from death, and bind round their
brow a coronet of stars, which shall shine for ever and ever!"
"I have no doubt," said Mrs. Roscoe, who was not at home on these
subjects, "but the natives of India are as happy with their religion
as we are with ours; and if the females do not meet with that
respect which we meet with, you know, Madam," addressing herself to
Mrs. Stevens, "that they do not expect it. Therefore, as it hath
pleased the Almighty to give them their religion, I think we ought
not to try to take it from them. We should not like to have ours
taken from us. However, I think there is too much attention paid to
religion in our days; it was not the case in the good old times of
our fathers."
"But, mamma, would you not save a little child from being drowned,
or a widow from being burned, if it were in your power?"
"Certainly, my dear."
"Now, mamma, as this cannot be done by force, we propose convincing
the people, by a process of fair reasoning, that such practices are
sinful and impolitic; and thus induce them, if possible, to abolish
them."
"Oh! that may be very proper, but I think that we have nothing to do
with it, and therefore, why should we trouble ourselves about it?
Why not let things remain as they always have been?"
"I must confess," said Mr. Roscoe, "that I begin to differ from you,
and I shall be very glad to see an auxiliary missionary society
established amongst us. If we have a purer faith than the Hindoos,
and one better calculated to promote individual and relative
happiness and improvement, we ought to impart it. To monopolize it
would be an act of selfishness and injustice; and though I have
hitherto, like too many around me, been guilty of this act, I will
go and sin no more."
"But, surely," said Mrs. Roscoe, "you do not intend to become a
missionary, and transplant us to some province of India?"
"No, no, my dear; I will not go myself, but I will give some portion
of my property to send others."
Had some shapeless figure, of hideous look, suddenly entered the
room, and denounced a heavy woe on each inmate of the dwelling, Mrs.
Roscoe might have been more alarmed, but she could not have appeared
more surprised than when she heard this last sentence.
"What!" she said, in a more lofty tone than I had ever known her
assume, "and have you so far forgotten your own dignity as to
connect yourself with missionary societies, which go abroad on
purpose to disturb other people in their religion, as we have been
disturbed in the enjoyment of ours?"
"My dear, you seem strangely excited, as though I was going to do
some barbarous or immoral act; when all I propose doing, is to give
a little of that wealth which God has given to us, to convey to the
deluded and degraded Hindoos the good news and glad tidings of great
joy which the holy angels announced to the shepherds of Bethlehem,
and which the ministers of Christ proclaim to us. Surely you cannot
object to this."
"I do not suppose you would like the Hindoos to send their religion
over to us, for our adoption."
"They may if they please; but they would not manage to persuade our
widows to burn on the funeral pile of their deceased husbands, or
induce fathers and mothers to destroy their lovely children."
"Well, at any rate, I think you ought to stay till they apply to us
for our religion as a substitute for their own."
It was now late, and the company upon the eve of retiring, when
Miss Roscoe arose, took from the book-case one of the volumes of
Doddridge's _Exposition on the New Testament_, placed it on the
table, and said to Mr. Guion, "I know, Sir, that it is your custom
to conclude your social visits by reading the Scripture and prayer;
and if you will consent to do so this evening, you will greatly
oblige us."
"I have no objection, if it be perfectly agreeable."
"Certainly, Sir," said Mr. Roscoe, "we ought not to object to
prayer."
The bell was now rung, and the servants were requested to come to
family prayer. We waited several minutes, during which time Mrs.
Roscoe was very restless. At length they entered, at irregular
intervals of time, seating themselves on the corner of the chairs
which stood nearest the door, expressing, by their looks, the utmost
degree of surprise at this novel service, and occasionally, by the
satirical smile which played over their countenance, indicating
either their contempt or their disposition to merriment. I needed no
one to tell me that this was the first time the _family_ had ever
knelt together at the throne of grace; but, knowing that a great
moral change had taken place in Mr. Roscoe, I felt conscious that it
would not be the last; and could not refrain offering my inaudible
expressions of praise to the God of all grace, for permitting me
to see _that_ fire enkindled on this newly-erected domestic altar,
which has ever since burnt with unceasing brightness.
THE CONSULTATION.
"Mamma," exclaimed Miss Denham, as she entered the drawing-room one
morning, after rather a lengthened walk, "I have heard something
that will surprise and distress you; I can scarcely believe
the report, but I have been assured of its truth from the best
authority."
"What is it, my dear? you seem agitated, has anything alarmed you?"
"Nothing more, mamma, than this dreadful report; really none of
us seem safe; dear Mr. Cole never spoke a greater truth than when
he said there was something of a _bewitching_ nature in this new
religion! I am alarmed for myself, and almost wish that we were
away from this place altogether. But I must tell you the story. Mr.
Roscoe has taken to his daughter's religion, and is now as fanatical
as herself!"
"I cannot credit this, my dear," replied Mrs. Denham; "you know how
often I have said this is the worst place I know for scandal; you
should be careful how you receive these reports; no, no, my dear,
I cannot believe such a story as this about Mr. Roscoe; he is too
good, amiable, and virtuous a man to be led so far wrong, and too
much of the gentleman to stoop to anything so mean and vulgar."
"I hope, mamma, it may be so, but I am afraid it is true; and every
one is so distressed and affected by the intelligence, I assure you
it has produced quite a sensation."
"My dear, it is impossible; I saw him at church on Sunday, and
heard him myself repeat the responses louder than he ever did
before; and if you recollect, we talked about it when we got home."
"No, mamma; if you recollect, we dined last Sunday with a large
party at Mr. Gladstone's, and did not go to church."
"Then it was Sunday week."
"It has happened since then. It happened one night last week; and
as I have been at some pains to get at an entire knowledge of this
disaster, I will tell you about it."
"Oh! dear," said Mrs. Denham, as she composed herself to listen to
the tragical story, "what a world we live in! Really nothing but
religion seems to be thought of. Our very servants are becoming
religious, and who can wonder at it, when the rich set them the
example! And if this should be true about Mr. Roscoe, which I
devoutly pray heaven may forbid, there is no saying where the evil
will stop."
"Well, mamma, you know that on Tuesday week Mr. and Mrs. Stevens,
and the gentleman that is on a visit there, and the Rev. Mr. Guion,
all went to spend the evening at Mr. Roscoe's."
"I have always said," interrupting her daughter, "that there is no
good doing when such people get together. If I had seen them go, I
would have given Mr. Roscoe a hint to be on his guard. He was taken
by surprise, I have no doubt. Well, my dear, go on."
"Well, ma', as I was saying, they all went; and when there, Mr.
Roscoe said that he would change his religion, and have that which
flourished so luxuriantly at Fairmount; and he got Mr. Guion to read
a chapter out of the Bible, and to say prayers, and had all the
servants in to hear him, and they all knelt down, though I heard
that the cook stole out slyly, when they were all upon their knees.
She didn't like it."
"I always thought well of that cook; she has a taste above her class
in life, I should like to have her; do you think she will leave?"
"I don't know, ma', but I should think she will; I will ask her if
you wish it."
"No, my dear, it won't do for you to appear in the matter; I'll
speak to John to speak to her. But now about Mr. Roscoe, what is to
be done?"
"But, ma', I have something more dismal to tell you."
"I hope not. Why, this is enough to shock the feelings of an angel.
Reading the Bible, and prayers, and kneeling down on the floor with
servants! I hope Mrs. Roscoe is not gone off."
"No, all this was much against her will, and she is very unhappy
about it, and says she shall never be happy again."
"Dear creature, it is impossible; but what else have you to tell?"
"Why, Mr. Roscoe proposed to set up a missionary society, to raise
money to send this new religion abroad."
"Well, my dear, this last part of your story relieves my mind. This
is a proof of mental derangement. The Chancellor would not want a
stronger. It is often the case, when people go wrong in their mind,
they profess strong attachment to the things they hate most when
they are in their right senses. I now must insist upon it that you
never make another call at Fairmount. Really, if you should ever
take up with this evangelical religion, I should be tempted to wish
myself in heaven, to escape the mortification."
"Indeed, ma', you need give yourself no uneasiness on that subject.
I have no predisposition in favour of religion. Indeed, I have my
doubts, and if it were fashionable, I think I should profess myself
a sceptic, but that would not be lady-like."
Mrs. and Miss Denham, after much long and serious debate, resolved
on making a call on Mrs. Roscoe. They found her at home, alone,
depressed, and reserved, and though she made an effort to rise to
her usual vivacity, yet she could not succeed. Mrs. Denham was very
particular in her inquiries after the health of Mr. Roscoe, and was
surprised to hear that he was well; and on being informed that he
was gone with Miss Sophia to spend an hour at Fairmount, in company
with the Rev. Mr. Ingleby, she became greatly agitated.
"Then I fear, my dear Mrs. Roscoe, that it is too true? Oh! I have
had no rest since I heard it. What a trial! Really, no one is safe.
That such a sensible, and amiable, and virtuous man as Mr. Roscoe
used to be, should so far forget himself and all his friends as to
change his religion, is very astonishing and affecting. We called
on the Rev. Mr. Cole as we came by, to ask if he had heard of the
report, and here he is, dear man, coming to condole with you."
"I am glad to see you," said Mrs. Denham to Mr. Cole, as he entered
the parlour; "we have been offering our sympathy to dear Mrs.
Roscoe--but can't something be done, Sir?"
"Then I suppose there is some foundation for the report. I always
thought Mr. Roscoe a very judicious and sensible man, and I still
hope, that though he has diverged into this eccentric course, his
good sense will, on cool reflection, induce him to return."
"Yes, Sir," replied Mrs. Roscoe, "I hope so too, but it is possible
that the influence and example of our daughter may protract, if it
do not perpetuate, the delusion under which he unhappily labours;
and if so, I shall never see another happy day."
"O yes, you will," said Mr. Cole, "his sun is only passing under
a cloud, and when his mind clears up, it will shine with its
accustomed brightness. His good sense will preserve him from that
fatal vortex into which too many have fallen."
"If, Sir, this were a sudden change, I should be induced to believe
that he might be recovered, but it has been coming on for a long
time. You know that he does not make up his mind on any subject very
suddenly, but when he has done it, you know how firm he is."
"Very true," said Mr. Cole, "but his spirits have been unusually
depressed for some months. I remember the last time we spent an
evening at Mr. Denham's, that I rallied him on his dulness when we
were at play. We must raise his spirits, and then we shall drive
away his evangelical notions."
"I have not noticed any particular depression. He has been rather
more grave, yet he has been cheerful; and has talked rather more
frequently on religious subjects, but they have not affected his
spirits."
"Well," said Mr. Cole, "I will come and have a rubber with him, and
I will engage to rub these notions out of him."
"Indeed, Sir, he has formally declined playing any more, and has
requested me never again to introduce cards."
"Really," said Mrs. Denham, "this is very affecting. Not play again!
Not suffer cards to be introduced? Then I suppose he intends to
break off connection with all his old friends, and take up with the
evangelicals; but I hope you have too much firmness to yield to him."
"It has been my maxim through life to sacrifice everything for the
sake of domestic peace. I cannot oppose Mr. Roscoe, and I must
confess that he has manifested the utmost degree of affection and
kindness."
"The apostle St. Paul has predicted," said the Rev. Mr. Cole, "that
in the last days perilous times should come, and indeed they are
come. The church once enjoyed quietude, but now she is rent into
divisions; not so much by the Dissenters who have seceded from us,
as by the evangelical clergy who are admitted within her pale.
Their eccentric notions, and their extempore and familiar style of
preaching, operate as a charm on the minds of their hearers; and
wherever they go, some stir is always occasioned about religion.
In general, the poor and the illiterate become their admirers; but
sometimes we see men of sense and learning beguiled by their artful
sophisms. I can account for their success among the lower orders,
but when I see an intelligent man brought over to their belief, I
confess I am puzzled. But still I won't give up Mr. Roscoe. I will,
in the course of a few Sundays, preach a sermon which I will procure
for the occasion."
"You will greatly oblige me if you will, Sir, but you must do it
soon, for I dread the idea of Mr. Roscoe going to hear Mr. Ingleby
while he is in his present state of mind."
"But you have no idea of his leaving my church?"
"Why, you know very well," Miss Denham remarked, "that none of the
evangelicals think you preach the gospel. I have heard Miss Sophia
say so many times, and you may be sure that she will try to make
her papa believe it, and if he is become an evangelical, he is sure
to believe it; for I have noticed that what one believes, they all
believe. Really, Sir, there is so much ado made now about the word
gospel and evangelical preachers, that the subjects are become quite
offensive."
"Yes, to persons of intelligence and taste."
"Exactly so, Sir; you will excuse what I am going to say, but I
often think that you are rather severe, too much so I know for some
of your hearers; but I have no idea how any people of sense can go
and hear such preaching as Mr. Ingleby's. I heard him once, _on the
loss of the soul_. I could not sleep after it--and even now, at
times I think of it. But, Sir, you know we have nothing to do with
such subjects till we die, or till after death."
"Such preaching," said Mr. Cole, "is as offensive to pure taste, as
it is revolting to our feelings."
"Exactly so; you know we are to be allured to a brighter world--not
frightened there. Pray, Sir, shall we have the pleasure of meeting
you and Mrs. Cole at Mr. Ryder's on Tuesday? By the by, I wonder
you do not cure Mr. John of his scepticism. There is to be a large
party, and rather a gay one."
"I don't think," replied Mr. Cole, "that Mr. John Ryder has any more
scepticism than does him good--it keeps off the gloom which a belief
in the Bible almost necessarily brings over the youthful mind. No, I
shall not be with you. I have an engagement with a few friends who
are going to Bath, to see _Romeo and Juliet_."
"How dull and insipid is a religious service when compared with a
play. What a pity that our Maker requires us to be religious. I have
not seen a play for some months, and when I was hearing Mr. Ingleby,
I really thought that I should never have courage to see another.
Oh, how he did denounce the theatre! He really said that it was the
pathway to hell."
"Yes," said Mr. Cole, with high disdain, "that man would interdict
us from every social enjoyment; would batter down the temple of the
muses, or change it into a house of prayer; and bring before our
imagination the awful realities of the eternal world, with so much
force, as should compel us to think, with perpetual awe, on death
and the future judgment."
"Oh! dear, they are awful realities indeed. When I heard him, he
alluded to dear Miss Patterson, who took cold on returning from
the play, and died, you know, Sir, a few weeks afterwards? Oh! she
was a lovely creature. She was too good to live on earth. Had she
been religious, she would have been a saint. But she often used
to say that her grandpapa left his religion to her aunts, and his
fortune to his grandchildren. Mr. Ingleby, after condemning plays,
&c., as impure and sinful, made a long pause, and then proposed his
questions with so much solemnity, that my pulse began to beat with
feverish rapidity.--'Should you like,' he said, and he looked while
he said it so stern and solemn, 'to pass from the theatre to the
judgment-seat of Christ? Should you like to leave the gaieties of
this world, to associate with the awful realities of another?' There
was so much stillness in the church as he went on in this strain of
awful eloquence, and so many people were overcome by what he said,
and such a serene smile on his countenance when he began to speak
about our Saviour, that I do really think, if I had not been very
firm and decided, I should have become as religious as any of them.
It was, I assure you, very difficult to withstand his fervour."
"I hope," said Mr. Cole, "you will never go again, for evil
communications corrupt the best of hearts."
"Go again!" exclaimed Mrs. Denham, "not if she have any respect
for her own happiness, or ours. Why, to hear this about the sermon
is enough to frighten any good Christian; what must it have been
to have heard the sermon itself! One thing puzzles me when I think
about it--why do our bishops consecrate such men?"
"Oh, unluckily we have some evangelical bishops."
"A bishop evangelical! don't you consider that a great wonder, Sir?"
"I consider it a great calamity to our church."
"Exactly so; then I suppose we shall always be annoyed with these
evangelical clergy if the bishops sanction them. I hope you won't
turn evangelical."
"Not while I retain my reason. When that is gone, I may go off too."
My readers who are but superficially acquainted with the religious
habits and style of conversation which prevail in the higher walks
of life, may be induced to imagine that I have given a strong
colouring to some parts of my narrative, but I assure them that I
have not. Indeed, had I quoted the epithets and the phrases which,
I know, are sometimes employed, when a certain class of fashionable
Christians, with their anti-evangelical pastors, venture to discuss
religious subjects, and animadvert on religious people, my pages
would be too disfigured to pass through the hands of the pious
reader.
It is to be lamented that many intelligent and amiable persons, who
occupy very prominent positions amongst us, and who are admired and
esteemed by all who know them, are as ignorant of the nature and
the design of Christianity as the ancient Scythian or the modern
barbarian. They imagine that they are Christians, because they are
born in a Christian country; that they are very good Christians,
because they sometimes go to church; and that they are safe for
another world, because their conscience does not condemn them for
the practices in which they now indulge themselves. And if any one,
in the most guarded way and the kindest tones of speech, venture
to suggest the possibility of self-deception, they are offended,
or take refuge in the belief that their hearts are too good to be
guilty of such a mean vice. They keep to the religion in which they
were born and educated; and this to them is the ark of safety.
Yes, you are a Christian in Britain, as you would be a Mahometan
if you had been born in Turkey; but search the Scriptures, and
examine if the design of Christianity has ever been accomplished
in you. Have you been born again? No. That subject you ridicule,
because you do not understand it. Have you had repentance towards
God, and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ? No; and if these subjects
were pressed upon your conscience with the affection of apostolic
compassion, and ardour of apostolic zeal, you would retire
displeased, if not disgusted, with the minister who dares to enforce
them as essential to your safety and happiness. Are you crucified
to the world by the moral influence of the death of Jesus Christ?
Crucified to the world! The very phrase, though scriptural, grates
offensively on your ear! Crucified to the world! O no. You are
devoted to its pleasures, its follies, its amusements. Shut up the
theatre, abolish cards, interdict the assembly and the ball, and how
would a large portion of our modern Christians be able to support
life?
You may imagine that you are a _good Christian_, because you
sometimes go to church; but an occasional visit to a material
temple will not produce that moral transformation of the soul which
is essential to fit you for the holy exercises and enjoyments of
another world. You may reject these questions which I now propose
to you; but before you reject them, permit me to urge you to search
the Scriptures, and then you will see that they have a paramount
claim on your attention. Can you be a Christian unless you possess
the spirit, and are in some degree conformed to the image of Jesus
Christ?
But it ought not to excite our astonishment, though it may our
tenderest sympathy, to see the great majority of those who move in
fashionable life passing away their time amidst the gaieties and
follies of the world, when they are sanctioned, if not encouraged
by the clergy, who ought to teach them better, both by precept and
example.
We have ministers of religion who do not hesitate to hold up to
ridicule and contempt the essential doctrines and self-denying
precepts of their own faith; and attempt, as far as the influence
of their example can extend, to banish all serious and devout piety
from the social circle. They see no harm in customs which the spirit
and even the letter of the Scriptures condemn; and sanction by
their presence those scenes of human folly and gaiety which have
captivated and ruined thousands, who were once the ornaments of
their fathers' house.
Such ministers not only sanction the customs of the world, but
they discountenance all serious piety, and declaim against their
evangelical brethren as disturbers of the peace of the church. If
Christianity be a cunningly devised fable--if the life of faith and
of practical devotedness of the soul to God be mere fancies--if
heaven and hell be the conceptions of romance, brought into the
pulpit to terrify the credulous and please the sanguine--I should
not hesitate to pronounce a heavy censure on those ministers who
bring forward these subjects so often, and who enforce attention to
them with so much ardent and impassioned eloquence.