Converts from Infidelity: Or, Lives of Eminent Individuals who Have Renounced Libertine ...

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CONVERTS

FROM

INFIOEIilTY.

CONVERTS

FROM

INFIOEIilTY.

-^IN THE rAklOVS BEPiBTllEIfTi^

UTERA.TrRE,SCIKNCE,*THE ARTS.

VDL.VI.
cOMramTR vaoii imvibslitt.

EDINBURGH:
IBZT.

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even of dw BiiM hiqr.bW altenlpts \ '

BY His aaAJBSTifs

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PREFACE.

The change that has gradually taken place
during the last thirty or forty years in the
numbers and circumstances of the reading
public, and tlie unlimited desire of knowledge
that now pervades every classof society, have
suggested the present undertaking. Pre*
viously to the commencement of the late war,
the buyers of books consisted principally of
the richer classes — of those who were brought
up to some of the learned professions, or who
had received a liberal education. The sa-
ving of a few shillings on the price of a vo- .
lume was not an object of much inlportance
to such persons, many of whom prized it chief-
ly for the fineness of its paper, the beauty of
its typography^ and the amp\\X\xdi^ ol W.'s* Tssax*-

U PREFACE.

gins— qualities which add to the expense of a
work, without rendering it in any degree more
useful. But now when the more general dif-
fusion of education and of wealth, has occasion-
ed a vast increase in the number of readers^
and in the works which daily issue from the
Press, a change in the mode of publishing
seems to be called for. The strong desire en-
tertained by most of those who are engaged
in the various details of agriculture, manu-
factures, and commerce, for the acquisition
of useful knowledge and the culture of their
minds, is strikingly evinced by the establish-
ment of subscription libraries and scientific^
institutions, even in the most inconsiderable
towns and villages throughout the empire; ancL
by the extensive sale which several very ex-
pensive, though by no means valuable works,
published in numbers, have met with. Under
these circumstances, it occurred to the pro-
jector of this Miscellany, that if Standard
Works not hitherto accessible to the great
mass of the Public, intermingled with Ortgi-
iNAL Treatises on subjects of great gene-
ral importance, and executed by writers of
-acknowledged talent, were published in a

PIIEFACE. Ill

<jheap, convenient, and not inelegant form,
they would obtain a most extensive circula-
tion and be productive alike of benefit to the
Public and of profit to those concerned in
them.

In the selection of Treatises, and in the
mode of circulation, the Publishers have ad-
opted that plan which they supposed would
be most likely to meet the wishes of the great
mass of readers, or of the middle classes.
And they are resolved to spare neither trou-
ble nor expense to give effect to their pur-
pose, of making this Miscellany the deposi-
tory of a selection of Works on all the most
interesting branches of human knowledge,
written by the most appi'oved authors, and of
rendering it as perfect, as a vehicle both of
useful information and of rational entertain-
ment, as it can possibly be made. *

The EXALTED PATRONAGE uudcr which
this Miscellany is ushered into the world, is
of itself a sufficient pledge, that nothing will
be admitted into its pages tainted with party
politics, or which can be construed as milita-
ting, in any way, against any of the princi-
ples of religion and morality. The ob^QCt vcl

IV PREFACE.

view is to render this Work a truly National
Publication, and which shall be equally ac-
ceptable to readers of all parties aiid deno-
minations*

In the following List, some of the various
works proposed to be embodied in this Mis-
cdllany, are enumerated ; and they will ap-
pear in such order and succession as may
seem most likely to suit the taste of those
encouraging the design. Tlie works of each
author, and each subject, will be kept s^>a-f
rate, so as to enable purchasers to acquire
all the numbers or volumes of any work^
distinct from the others.

LIST OF PUBLICATIONS.

Those Articles marked thus * are original Works, pre-
pared or written expressly for this Miscellany.

CAPTAIN BASIL HALL'S VOYAGES. 3 vols.
•^* These contain,— L VOYAGE TO LOO-CHOO,

and other Places in the EASTERN SEAS, in the Year
1816. * Including an Account of Captain MaxweU*s At-
tack on the Batteries at Canton ; and Notes of an In-
terview with NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE at St
Helena, in August 1817.— IL EXTRACTS FROM A
JOURNAL written on the Coasts of Cliili, Peru, and
Mexico, in the Years 1820, 1821, and 1822 ; containing
some Account of the recent Revolutions, together with .
Observations on the State of Society in those Countries.
LIFE OF ROBERT BURNS. B^ J. G. Lock-

MA ILT LL«B. ^

MEMORIALS OF THE LATE WAR Vii.

JOURNAL OF A SOLDIER of the 71st Rsgimsmt,
from 1806 to 1815, including Particulars of the Battles
of Vimeira, Vittoria, the Pyrenees, Toulouse and Water-
loo.— LETTERS OF SIR JOHN MOORE.— The
£ARL OF HOPETOUN'S DESPATCH after the
battle of Corunna, and other Documents.

EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY: THE
PLEIAD, or a Series of Abridgements of Seven Dis-
tinguished Writers, in opposition to the Pernicious Doc-
trines of DEISM. By the Rev. Francis Wrangham,
M.A. F.R.S. Archdeacon of Cleveland. *

CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY; or Lives of '
Eminent Individuals who have renounced Sceptical and
Infidel Opinions, and embraced Christianity. By Andrew
Crichton. 2 vols. *

•i^» This Work contains Lives of the Earl of Roches-
TKE, Hon. Robert Botle, Lord Lyitleton, Count
Struensee, Count Brandt, Sir John Pringlb, Gilbert
WxsT, SoAME Jentns, John Buntan, Baron Haller,
La Harpb, Charles Gildon, Captain James Wilson
of the Ship Duff, Rev. John Newton, Rev. Richard
Cecil, Professor Haltburton, Colonel Gardiner, Dr
Thomas Bateman, and Others.

HISTORY OF VOYAGES, from theear\ve&\.TVa«a^
showing the part which the various ^uro^aii '^«iaotA
have bad in Maritime Discovery ; and W\u&Xx«iaxi% ^^
I^n^;n88 of Geographical Science. 3 voVs. *

ttaauMiMijmsmLuarx

s hbhstiibhtSS

LITERATURE, SCIENCR,*THE ARTS.
VOL. VI.

cOMramTi raeii ixnoxLiTT.

EDINBURGH:

18IT.

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BY ills MAJESTY'S

PRINTED BY ANDERSON & *RYCR.
KDINBDRGH.

PREFACE.

AlucH has been written against scepticism
and infidelity; and in so far as regards
arguments and objections founded on the
historical proems, or the internal character
of the Christian religion, the controversy
may be considered as exhausted* The im-
pious warfare which the enemies of Revela-
tion waged so long, and with such implac-
able rancour, seems to have terminated in
acknowledged defeat, or at least in silencing
all speculative opposition ; and they who still
persist to discredit or reject its authority,
must find some other excuse for their un-
belief than the want of evidence.

During the last two centuries, the tolerant
maxims of the government, and the unre-
strained freedom of the press, gave ample
scope for inquiry and discussion ; and the

VI PREFACE.

abettors of atheism and moral anarchy were
not slow to avail themselves of the indul-
gence. All who had objections of their own
to offer, or who might hope to serve their
cause, by reviving the calumnies of others,
were at perfect liberty to produce them.
Accordingly, the authenticity of the Bibles
more especially of Christianity, was assailed
at all points, by a host of free-thinkers aiid
sophistical reascners, with a versatility of
skill unknown to its ancient adversaries, and
a zeal as indefatigable in its exertions, asi it
was bold and ingenious in its contrivances*
History, philosophy, literature and ro-
mance, wit, satire, ridicule, reproach, find
even falsehood were all les^ed in thi^
conspiracy; and furnished, in their turn,
arms for prosecuting this unnatural re^
bellion against light and truth.

It might not be uninteresting, perhaps, to
trace through the progressive stages of thi^
Deistical contest, how often the assailants
have been compelled to change their modes
of attack, — the artful disguises they have
assumed, — the various shifts and disinge-
nuous stratagems, they have had recourse
to, — the several schemes they have formed

PREFACfi. Vll

for achieving their purposes ; but our limits
necessarily restrict us at present from en-
tering into the exposition. The result haft
proved how little Christianity has to fear
irom the malice or the subtlety of its bK«
terest opponents, — ^how futile their most
plausible objections are, — and how tri^dal
the amount of all that their learning and in-
genuity have found to say against it, after
the most rigorous examination, and with
full liberty of declaring their sentiments
without the terror of faggots or inquisitions.
Nothing has been done to detect fraud or
imposture, or invalidate the solid evidences
on which it rests. Its truth has acquired
fresh lustre in the controversy, and burst
throughall those ingenious sophistries which,
like so many cob-webs, a sceptical philosophy
had endeavoured to spin around it. Instead
of being detrimental toreli^on, its adver-
saries have done it an important, though
unintentional service. They have shewn
that it can never be subverted by the force
of reason or argument ; that it is in no dan-
ger from the most rigid scrutiny; but, like
pure gold, will lie for centuries in the fur-
nace without losing a single grain ', ^^«x^»&>

VUl ]>IIEFAC£.

werer^l the.tinuBelaiid embroidery of ]>eUi;i
or Infidelity put into the same crucible aii4
burnt down, there would not be found at
the bottom of the melting-pot an ounce of
n^etal that was not dug from the mine of
Revelation.

Resides ejrposing their own weakness
they have stimulated the friends of piety (o
greater zeal by their example ; they hare
taught Christians of all denominations to
unite in the same s]^t of honourable ri-
valryi and, forgetting for a time the di*.
tinctions of party, to associate their labours
in repelling the enqroaehments of error*
They have roused i;nen of talents and learn-.
ing to investigate the subject^ who have
given, in their numerous writings, the most
luminous and convincing statements of the
Christian evidences, and established their
veracity on the basis of demonstration. To
this cause it is that we owe the masterly
productions of Stillingfleet^ Sherlock, Clark%
Butler, Bentley, Doddridge, Newton, Ler
land, Lardner, Can^pbell, and a <^atalogue ,
of other respectable names, that have done .
honour to literature and scieiioe, as well as .
to religion.

FREFACV. IX

Ybi^i bag the opposition of enemies and
i|iQ4e]j^ ^ntrilwted to advance and perpe-
tuate the oaufi^ they intended to destroy. It
ha» aswted, in no smaU degree, to sweep
away the rabbish which had been aecumur
lating for ages round the temple of Truth ;
and, by revealing the solid rock on which it
is foundedf. ba» made the venerable structure
Qoiy iqpfisar WMm) majestic and impregnable.
It has given, birth to those ingenious and
WWMial defeiM>es of our £uth, which serve
at oneet for beauty and £»: strength, and
vbidi wiU CQintinue to be read and admired
while the bflgaage in which they are writ-
ten exists.

An additional benefit whicb has accrued
from these discussions is, that many sceptics
a^ unbelievf0v% being induced to ponder
and examine tbe matter in question, hava.
b^n reclaimed to tbe truth, and confirmed
in right principles. The contemners of tha
Christian reKgion,' have been compeUed to
t^ow down tljiQ weapons of their rebellion,
and led not only to entertain a more favour-
able opipoii of Us proo& and its doctrineis,
but to render it a public homage, by laying
their confesrions md retractions undia-

X PREFACE.

guisedly before the world. Numbers bave
even entered the lists of controversy, as ad-
vocates and champions of tbe cause thej
had revUed ; and produced elaborate works
in its defence, which have baffled the abhsl
of their antagonists to answer.

Some of' the more generally known, aiid
best accredited examples of these convendoniti
the reader of the following volumes wSI
find, in the Lives of Eminent Individuals
who have renounced libertine principles and
sceptical opitiions, and embraced Christi-
anity. Such narratives may be regarded as
interesting in themselves, but more esped.*
ally important, as furnishing the most au-
thentic testimonies to the truths of revealed
reli^on ; and setting forth the decided con-
cessions in their favour, which have been
extorted under circumstances so impressive,
and from witnesses whose competency or
credibility cannot be doubted.

Among the Converts here selected are to
be found men of all ranks and professions
in life, laymen and clergymen, statesmen,
philosophers, historians, poets, and physi*
cians ; many of whom were not less distin-
guished for their extensive acquirements in

iund gcience, than for the homage
they paid to rfligioii. They eichihit instances
cf 'varioua attakunentfi in knowledge, and of
aQ descriptiona of inteU^tual vigour,-*of
vma who cannot be ^rg^ with acting
firom hypocrisy, or iwder tha influence of
|vc^udiee,-T^who have been dMj^y versed in
ihfi pliilosophy of nature^ end acciytom^d to
Urn JDQKNit eantioii»£»nna of adentifie ezperi*
■utnt,— r«nd who, had the evidences of Re-*
velation heen weak, or founded on erroTy
were in every respect qualified, and from
tike iQharaoter of their previous habits and
^^ijplioqs, would have been xnost eager to de-;
tect and ej^pose the imposture.

. Chipistiaiuty, it is true, does not rest its
dimfl: o«^ human authority,-r-it does not ap-
imili to tha aid or the attestation of names,
hfBisif ever celebrated ; nor do«es it require its
dMcipIes to count voices in order to deter*^
mine their belief; It has other supports,
end more irre&agaUe arguments, l;han the
proofe to be edduced from Uie number or
extent of its convei;si(Ons. But the concur*
ring testiv(w>nie4 of so many individuals,
who from enemies and revUers became
proselytes, — who were endowed with talents

xn PltEFACir.

to discern, bad leisure to investigf
tnith, and candour enough to coni
majr serve to confute the mistake, — a
not a very uncommon one^-— of thofi
think to shelter their own infidelity
the supposition^ that men of genius «
lities who have had any intercours
the world, — any penetration of mind
trepidity of character,— 4ure all ran]
their side, and have been seepties or
lievers.

' Though authorities, even of the g
name&, are not arguments, and hi
claim to Be admitted as the stand
private opinions, yet the examples re
hi the following pages, may, v^ththesi
propriety, be employed to combat su<
jiidtces as have no other support
the association of' names. They mf
gest, moreover, useful reflections
rioiii^ classes of readers. They may
persons of inferior learning or discen
to repose some degree of confidence
nions which have been submitted
most rigorous, processes of demonst
They may teach bold and' superfic
claimers not rashly \» ^oinAsxm^ as 1

PREFACE. sdii

Spring of Ignorance and credulity, that be-
lief whieh has been cherished by men of the
greaiest celebrity, and embraced Am the
ground of rational and deliberate preference.
Those who doubt or disbelieve, may perhaps
be. induced to weigh with impartiality, ojt
pooBiier with a greater degree of attention^
argomosls which have produced con viction^
onder drcmnstances so un&vourable, and
on minds so refractory ; which have been
found to accord with the profoundest re-
sesrehes into the works of nature, with the
conclusions of historical inquiry, and the de-
ductions that have been drawn from the
most enlightened observations on human

life.

To the curious in moral speculations, it
may be gratifying to observe the progress
4ind operation of libertine principles, to see
^he fountains of infidelity explored and laid
i)pen, not merely by the discoveries of those
who have carried the probe of examinatioQ
into the hearts of others, but by the confes-
sions of penitents themselves, when brought
to a proper knowledge of their own malady.
They will perceive on what hollow and
dangerous ground those fabrics of delusion

ftave been relEired, ^hen the mii^ ^bat ^dtt-»
ceali^ l^m ar^ tfispe^sed; ahit bow very
fnvololis tbe petulaht eaVik of ndany uhbe^
4ieyer8 axe^ wfa6 ba^^ 6Whidd that they had
never t^ead, even with the ^slightest attenttoil,
iboee Scriptures which they affected to d^
ride ; and khew nothing of thieir evideitcei^,
excejpt the popukir and ieommon-plac^ ob-
^tions, which have been repeated at th^
twentieth hand, and as often confiited.

VWth regard to the e^ctitlon of this Worlr,
the Compiler arrogates little merit to hini-
self, beyond that <^ sielecling and arranging
bis hiateriats; Tbe stddent iii biogtaphy
will perhaps find littte Ihat ik new; but he
may not be displeased to see brought within
his reach in so small a compass, what he had
gathered from the wide field of general
reading; or to have his attention recalled
to subjects which he remembers to have
perused, and may not be unwilling to re«
consider*

UniNStfROL, )

Jlpril, \m- i

CONTENTS

OF VOL. I.

.Page.
John Wilmot, Carl of Rochesier, , »w.i w«.M«»»>iy w«.»mw>»»^.<w I

CONVERTS

FROM

INFID£IiITY<

JOHN WILMOT, EARL OF ROCUdCSTEBr.

. jS o indmdual, perhaps, lietter merits tlie distmc-
tion of being placed at the head of Converted
Infidels, than the witty and profligate Earl of
Rochesteiv This pre-eminence he may justly
challenge, in whateyer aspect his character is
yiewed; whether we regard the accomplishments
of his mind, or the licentiousness of his morals ;
the reckless hardihood of his impiety, or the sin-
cerity of his penitence. No Ubertine of that difr*
solute age was more expert in the mysteries of
iniquity, or had so completely studied every art
that could supply him with excuses or encourage-
ment in his pleasures. None understood better to
handle the unhallowed weapons of raillery and
ridicule, or could more skilfully ward off convio-
tion, when assailed by an ingenious adversarv ;
and Qone had resisted^ with greater obstinaeY^^
VOL. J, A * '

2 CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY.

application of all external means to nndeceiye and
reclaim him from his errors. Nature had bestowed
upon him abilities of ^tte faigliest order, which he
had cultivated beyond most of his contemporaries
in the same rank of life ; and had these superior
endowments been enlisted on the side of virtue
and decency, his name must have descended to
posterity, as one of the most ^ctracRxlinary men
of his time.

But these exalted qualities, '"^ehi^ might fasre
made him the delight of society, and an orna-
ment to his country, were so corrupted and de-
based by vice, that his dissipations have become a
proverb, and left a deeper stain on the voluptuous
court in whidi he flourished ; and had not his repen-
tance interposed, his character mnist have remauMd,
to all generations, the scandal of his age, and a
reproach to human nature. Foi:tunately, how-
ever, he lived to see his folly, and to feel the con-
sequences of his misccmduct; to renounce llie
errors, and abandon the criminal courses into wfaidi
he was unhappily seduced, both by inclinaidim and
example. His brief career is a lamentable de-
monstration of the misdiievous effects of infidelity;
and his dying convictions fumidi a memorable Hi-
stance, among the many triumpln which 'Gbsrw*
tianity has adiieved over all the arguments and
sophistries of its enemies. A paixinl aidmei^,
the result of habitual intemperance, roused 'hiiii
to a sense of his delusion and his dtoiger ; aaid iik
the fiery ordeal of affliction, his stubborn opposi-
iion was subdued, and melted down into humb lfl
acquiescence, and unfeigned acknowledgments of
hia guilt. The cloud that obscured his moralper^
ceptions being ^spenisd) ^oa Ym^^'

EARL OF ROCHESTER* 3

entirely changed theii* nature. A liglit from
heaven seemed to pour its efiidgence around him,
like that which struck the apostle to the ground,
who, « Oiough before a blasphemer, a persecutor,
and iujmious, yet obtained mercy, that in him
Christ Jesus might shew forth all long-<suffering,
for a pattern to &em that shoidd hereafter believe
on him to everlasting life."

The family from which Lord Rochester wai
descended, had made no inconsiderable figure in
the history of their cotmtry, — ^liis anc^tors being
eminent, on hoih aides, for their devoted loyalty
and military services* His fiither, Henry, acted
a conspicuous part in the civil wars, and was
create^ by Charles I. Baron <^ Adderbury, in
Oxforddbire, — and afterwards made Earl of Ro-
chester by Charles II. then in exiles whom he had
accompanied to the continent. He is' better known,
however, by the title of Lord Wiltnet, so often
mentioned by Clarendon ; and contributed not a
little, by his courage and able conduct, towards
the success which at first attended the royal arms.
In most of the actions he was personally concern-
ed, and in some he had the chief command* At
the very commencement of hostilities, he was
taken prisoner by the Scots, in the rout at New-
bum, being tlien Conunissary-General of the horse ,
but he was soon after released by thie treaty of
Rjppon. At the battle of Edge-hill he commanded
the left wing^ and shared, with Prince Rupert, the
reputation of that victory. He took by stratagem
the town of Marlborough, which the Parliament
had garrisoned ; being at that time advanced to the
rank of Lientenant-GeneraL At tlie siege of^
Beading, having marched sudd^y from OiL^oicd^

4 CONVftRTS FROM INFIDELITY.

he fmcceeded, witboiat much opposition, in xe-itt«
forcing the garrison with a re^ment of 500 men,
and a supply of ammunition. The xlefeat of Sir
William WflJler, at Roundway-down, was achieved
under his sole command, — and he led the van in
the action at Cropready Bridge.

But jealousy or rii^ry lumng fastened upon
him suspicions of mutiny, and of fkvooring Ae'
parliamentary interest, he was removed from liis
post in the iirmy, and retired -lor a aiiort lime to
France. He was naturally of an aspiring and im-
perious disposition, precipitate in ins resolutions,
and impatient of contra^ction ; imt he had great
influence and authority in tibe army. He had a
most pleasant and lively wit, — drank freely, — end
excelled in all the companionable qualities of the
camp, which made him popular with his fellow-
officers. After the battle of Worcester, he was
particularly activein managing the concealment and
escape of the unfortunate Prmce. Disguised widi
hk hswk, he attended him from -plaee to -place, .■»-
sisted in procuring a vessel, and embarked -wi^inm
for France. He continued, during dl his peregrina-
tions, attached to "his court, and liad eonsidmdbk '
influence in 4iis councils. He vras sent as amhos-
sadorto the Diet at Ratisbon, for the purpose of
soliciting the Emperor of Germany to undertake
his restoration; and with the hope of obtaiBii^
some fit asyhim within the imp^ domimoniB,
where lie might sojourn with iiis small retinue, in
eaqpeotation of his better destiny. It was on this
occasion that Lord Wilmot was ^neated Eari of
Rochester. His success in these negociatipns was
very partial ; all he could procure being a trifling
subsidy of a few thousand pounds. With the

EARL OF ROCHESTER. 6

rovtfent of the Prince he came over to England
in ld55, with the intent of exciting an insnrrec-
tion in iavoar of the royal cause ; in this, how-
ever, he fiEuled, having heen too free in comnnini-
(»tmg his designs, and only escaped hy heing so
dexterous in assaming disguises. He returned to
Cologne^ whew Charles then was, hut did not live
to witness the mexpected event that replaced the
exiled numarch on the throne of his ancestors;
having nqnred on the 19th of Fehmary, 1657.
He was huried privately, and hy special leave of
the FajrUament, in ^e Church of Spilshy, in the
aepulchve of the family of Lee. He married
Anne, daughter of Sir John St Johns, of Lyddiard,
hut. and widow of Sir Francis Henry Lee, of
Ditchley, in Oxfordshire ; and this lady was the
moth^ of the nohle ccmvert, t» whose history we
now Fetufik

JoRN WiLMOT, Earl of Rodiester, Viscoant
Athlone in Ireland, and Baron of Add^^ry, in
Oxfordshire, was hom at Ditchley, near Wood-
stock, April 10th, 1647. Being early deprived of
hia father, he was left with little other inheritance
than the honours and titles to which he succeeded ;
with such claims to the royal favour as the emi«
n^it services of his family might naturally he
supposed to establish. This scanty fortune wa%
however, carefully managed, by the great prs-
dence and discretion of his mother, so that he re-
ceived an education every way suitable to his
rank. He was entered to the free-school bA
Burford, where he made extraordinary proficiency
both in Greek and Latin, especially the b^ter,
whidi he acquired to sucli perfection) tloX Vi^ t^

a2

6 CONVERTS FROM INFmELlTY

tainedy throtigh life, a,peciiliar relish for &e amthen
in thai language, pardcnlarly lliose idio flouriflhed
jduring tke Augustan era of Roman litecatara
Here, also, those shining talents began to develope
themselyes, which afterwards blazed out with aach
xndld and irregular, Aough short-lived, brilliancy.
. In his twelfth year he was entered a nobleman
at Wadham College, Oxford, under the care ol
Mr Phineas Berry, and Dr Blandford, afterwards
Bishop of Worcester; and in 1661, he was, wilh
some others of high rank and lit^ary celebrityy
made Maater of Arts in conv^ocaticm ; ^ at wliAdi
time (says Wood) he, and none dbw, was adnnttefl
very affectionately into the fraternity, by a kiss aa
the left cheek from Lord Clarendoa, the Chaa-
cellor of the University, who then sat in the sn-
preme chair to honour that assembly." Beodes
his classical attainments, he acquired a reputatiaii
for wit, eloquence, and poetry, which he had studied
to great perfection.* His learned and affBCtionatB
tutor had imbued his mind with excellent prin-
ciples, and founded the elements <ji a virtuous

* Nature had formed him for a scholar and a poet ^
and the astrologers of the time, (whose predicUons, like'
tbose of phrenology, are most to be depended upon when
calculated backwards)accounted for his extraordinary ge-
nius by planetary influences. *' He was endued, (says
Gadbury) with a noble and fertile muse. The IBkin go-'
v^med the^ horoscope, .and the moon ruled the birth boor.
The conjunction of Venus and Mercury In M. CoeJi io
seztile of Luna, aptly denotes his inclination to poetry.
The great reception of Sol with Mars, and Jupiter posit-
ed so near the latter, bestowed a large stock of generous
and active spirits, which constantly attended on this ex-
cellent native's mind, insomuch that no sulgect came'
ainiss to him.*' — Gadbury* s Ephemerisy 1698.

EARL OF ROCHESTER. 7

oharacter^n tiie solid basis of aiiberal edncatioit.
But the good seed had faUen on a pervserse wal,
and was unhappily blighted by early intemperance.
The king^s restocation hi^pening while he was al
the Umyenity, he gave way to die general current
of riotous and extravagant joy which then over*
ran the nation, and debau(4ied the public morals.
The natural consequences of these excesses were, «
total neglect of his studies, to which all the re-
monstrances o( his tutor could never recal him ;
and the acquirement of irregular habits, wlndi
afterwards grew to such a height of proffigacy,
when fostered amidst the temptations and entice^
ments of a court, that had banished «11 regard ibr
decency and moral restraint.

Having finished his academical studies, he tn^
trelled into France and Italy. His companion and
governor, on tlus occasion, was Dr Balfour, a
learned flcotsman, who aftCTwards acquired great
celebrity as a physician in Ins native country;
The judicious management, and salutary ad-
vices of this worthy person, not only brought him
back to the love of learning, but weaned him al-
most entirely from the indulgence of those cri-
minal propensities which he had contracted at
College. He oft^n expressed his great obligationa
to love and lumour this most excellent and valu-
able instructor, to whose fidelity and care he
thought he owed more than to all the world ; and
he was perticnlarly affected by the many ingeniom
and amiable artifices by which he contrived to en-
gage his attention, and draw him to delight in
hooka and study. The taste which he then ac-
qilired for reading, remained with him till his death,
1^ was oftim indulged at intervals amidst «il tiba

8 CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY.

aensnalities and criminal pnranhs that filled vp Ae
short course of his abandoned life. The diOHse of
his subjects was not always good ; but the habitat
desire of knowledge, and his occasional fits of
atndy, improved his understanding, and prqwreJl
him the better to weigh and estimate the erideBOM
for reyektion, when his mind was m a o^Musty
for deliberate inquiry and sober reflecticMi.

Such was the happy reformation that tuition and
example had effected, when he returned fi;t>m his
travels in 1665, being then in his eighteenth year.
He was immediately introduced at court, widi
every advantage in his favour, — both from the rs^
membrance of his father s loyalty, and the jffs-
possessing attractions of his own person and tuth
complishments.

I^ appearance had much c^ elegance and
gracefulness, his person being tall, slendo*, and
handsomely formed. His countenance was ex-
tremely regular, and of a fine complexion. His
manners were polished according to the exact
rules of good breeding. There was a becoming
modesty in his deportment, and a civility almost
natural to him, which rendered his presence agree-
able and gave an easy and obliging turn to his
conversation. Few possessed in a higher degree
ihe qualities both of mind and body that go to oeo-
stitute in perfection the man of rank and fashion.
HiB abilities were excellent, and he had greatly
improved them by learning and industry. Hia
colloquial powers were unrivalled, which gave an
irresistible charm to his conversation, reiideriiig
him the delight of gay society, and making his
company universally courted. He had a sin^pakr '
vivacity c^ thought and vigour of expression ; and

EARL OF ROCHESTER.

d

there was an inimitable pleasantry in his humour,
that made licentiousness and impiety almost appear
a jest. Few men had aholder flight of fancy, or an
imagination more fhiilli:d in its invention, and at the
same time, so wdil regulated by a sound judg-
ment and a tleHcate sense of propriety. His wit
was both subtle and subHme, and when excited by
wine, made him so extravagantly pleasant, that
many, for the purpose of such unhallowed diver-
sions, studied to engage Mm deeper and deeper in
intemperance. He had made wit his study, and
was ^miliar with ike French and Italian as well
as the English writers on the subject, both an-
cient and modem. His greatest fiavourite among
the French wits was Boileau, and Cowley among
the English.

These superior endowments, however, which,
had they been properly directed, might have turned
out both honourable to himself and beneficial to
his country, -unfortunately proved the dangerous
rocks on which he made shipwreck of his health
and his reputation. They were the fetal instru-
ments that ministered fuel to his own corrupt in-
dinatioBs, and made his example so pernicious in
seducing and destroying others. But they threw
no obstacles in his way by impairing his interest
at court ; on the contrary, they made him the more
acceptable, and gained him the greater fjeivour, as
he excdled in all those qualities wlndi could
either furnish amusement for the gay, or attract the
fdlowsfaip of the dissolute.

Soon after his return from Ins travels he seized
the first opportunity that offered, of shewing his
readiness to follow the footsteps of his loyal ances-
tors, by hazarding^his life in the defence vood &emc%

H) CONVERTS FROM INFIDEMTY*

ofhisconntiy. Intheaatainnof 1665»he wentt^
sea with the Earl of Sandwidb, who was sent to lie
in wait for the Dutch fleet, which was then le^
turning home from the East Indies richly laden*
As the two nations were then at war, the Dutcb
ha4 availed themselves of the protection of the king
of Denmark, who had invited them lo elude the at-
tempts of their enemies hy taking shelter in hisr
ports. Lord Sandwidb, immediately on this in»
telligence, made sail for the port of Bergen in
Norway, where the Dutch fleet were lying at ai^
chor. The attack, thou^ hut partially suceess-
talf was red£oned one of the most desperate and
daring enterprises ever made. The young Eari
of Rochester served in the Revenge, commanded
hy Sir Tliomas Tiddiman, and during the whole,
action he shewed as hrave and resolute a courage,
as the most experienced seaman. Lord Clifford^
who was in the same ship, often spoke of his in*
trepidity on this occasion, in terms of the highest
commendation.

As he was not to he deterred, either hy the
hardness' of the service, or the dangers he had
encountered, he was ready to embrace the first
opportunity that offered, of embarking on the
same perilous element ; and accordingly, the fol-
lowing summer he went to sea again, iipthout
communicaling his design, even to hlis nearest re-
lations. He entered, only the day previous to the
engagement, as a volunteer on board the ship com-
manded by Sir Edward Spragge, one of the bra-
vest officers that the Engtish navy ever produced.
Numbers of the young nobility served in the same
expedition, more, perhaps, in compliance with the
gallantry of the times, or out of complioient to the

BARL OF ROCHBSTBR. 11

Duke of York, ndbo was at the head of the navy,
than from any motives of patriotism or disiiiterested
loTe for the service. Tms battle was perhaps die
most obstinate and bloody that was fought during
the whole war : and it was not till after a struggle
•of four days, that victory declared in favour of
the Englii^

I^urii^ this protracted engagement, a circum-
stance occurred that afforded Lord Rochester an op-
portunity of signalizing his courage in a very parti-
cnhurmanner. In the heat of the action, Sir Edward
[^pragge having lost most of his volunteers, and
Bot bmng satisfied with the behaviour of one of his
captains, found some difficulty in getting a peraon
that would cheerfully venture through so mnch dan-
ger, to cany his commands to the officer in fiEtulti
In this emergency, the young nobleman in ques*
jtiim readily offered his services, and pushing off in
an open boat, he delivered his message, and re-
turned through the thickest of the fire back to his
ahip, amidst the -cheers and plaudits of all who
witnessed this gallant feat of deliberate heroism.

He had thus at the very outset of life sufficiently
established his character as a brave man, by giv-
ing such midoubted demonstrations of courage in
an element and way of fighting, which is aclmow*
ledged to be the greatest trial of cool and un-
daimted valonr. And it is matter of regret, that
these noble energies which were capable of such
distingnished exertions, should have been so perw
wesrted and debased by ihe irregularities of his life,
as to dnk him in degradation to the level of the
meanest and most wretched of the species. The
reputation for bravery which he had so justly
gnned,-he afterwards forfeited by tome Q^b»c \»k

12 COKVSRTS FROM INFIDELITY.

honourable adyentiires. His companiona would
sometimes reproach him for deserting them in
brawls and street quarrels ; and Sheffield, Dake of
Buckingham, has rec(H*ded a story of his declining
to fight him, — although the whole charge may pei>
haps be resolved into his love for tridc and buf-
foonery, rather than want of courage ; as it was a
paradox or maxim of his, that every man would be
a coward if he durst.

On quitting the sea-service, he repaired to court,
where it appears his merits were not left nnie*
warded, as he was made one of the gentlemen of die
King's bed-chamber, and comptroller of Woodstodc
Park. Here hi» fdrmer habits of intemperanoey
which he had subdued and entirely relinquished on
his travels, were again resumed. The lessons of mo-
deration and restraint whidi he had learned from
his excellent tutor, were gradually forgotten ; and
he began by pr(^ressive steps, though not with*
0ut some reluctance to yield himself up to all the
sensual grallficati(ms and extravagant pleasures of
a depraved and unprincq)led court. He became
unhi^pily addicted to riotous and profane com-
pany, by which all sense of religion or tmxrality
was ccmipletely efiaced from his mind. The
licentiousness of his habits, with the sprigfatlineai
of his wit, disposed him to love the society and liie
conversation of those who made lewdness and im^
piety the chief amusement of iheir social hom;
As he excelled in that boisterous and irregpular
merriment which wine excites, his companions, as
well as his own natural temper, encouraged him
in these excesses ; in which he was at length so
entire;ly immersed, that, as he confessed, fw fiva
yean together he was cootmually drunk, or al least

AARL OF ROCHESTER. 13

Ao mflafned by repeated inebriety, that during all
that lime, he was not cool enou^ to be perfectly
master of himself. In this stat^ he said and did
the most extraordinary things that the wildest
imagination could conceive, and was led to play
many frolics, which it is not for his honour that
posterity (i^oidd remember, and which are not
now distinctly known. Many jeux d' esprit, and
hnmorons stories haye been preserved in jest-
books, and, are still circulated in conversatipn,
which, periiaps^ are falsely ascribed to him ; and
iphich, even had they been true, could not with
{yropriety be admitted into the graver pages of
biography^

^ The i^tal of these extravagances often fur-
nished ihe merry Monarch with curious narratives,
to entertain his idle courtiers ; and writers of mo-
dem romance, have drawn from this store-house a
rich supply of traditionary anecdote to embellish
their columns. The King made him a frequent
iftsodate in his recreations and convivial parties,
not so much out of love to his person, as for the
diversion his company afforded Mm. * He dreaded

• " The King dining at the Dutch Amba8sador*s,
lifter dinner they drink and turn pretty merry; and
among the rest of the King's conipany> there was that
witty fellow, my Lord of Rochester, and Tom Killigrew,
^hose mirth and raillery offended the former so miu^b
that he did give him a box on the ear in the King's pre-
sence ; which do give much offence to people, to see how
cheap the King makes himself; and the more for that
the King hath not only passed by the thing, and par^
doped it to Rochester already, but the very next morning
the King did publicly walk up and down and Rochester
with him, as free as ever, to the King's everlasting shame,
£o have so idle a rogue his companion. '*—/'e7>^«*s JDiary^

B

li CONV&RT8 FROlf ISTFIDBLITY.

his Udoit for ridiciik^ and fMinetimoi relorted

with Beverity* But there was no lore lost ImjIwimd

them, for Rochester never felled to take his re-

▼enge in some pasqnil or satire, an instance ni

which ia recorded in the mock epitaph^ so wall

known and so often quoted :

Here Um our lOTeraign lord ths Kiagt
Whose word no man relies on ;
"Who never said a foolish tbin^
And never did a wise one.

There were two principles in his nature which
were espedally liable to these ezcitem«nts,**-a
▼iolent love of pleasure, — and a disposition to ex*
travagant mirth ; the latter being the same iixe*
gular appetite in his mind, that the other was ia
his body. The one involved him in great sen-
suality ; the other engaged him in those odd and
whimsical adventures, which he often pursued at
the hazard of discovery, and even of falling a martvr
to his own folly. The whole course of his anb-
sequent life, until his sickness and conversion, w^a
spent with little interruption, in the same gross
and criminal indulgences, in which he manifosted
an utter disregard for any thing like public de-
cency or sobriety of conduct. His vices, like his
talents, were of a kind singular and extraordinary*
He seemed to affect something in them strange
and paradoxical, above the reach and fiEuicy of
other men ; for he could think nothing divertiqg
<Nr worthy of being attempted, that was not exto*
vBgaat. Sometimes be would walk the etDeeta^
jessed like a porter or a common beggar, aoji-
dtinff die ahns of the charitable ; or stixul about,
merely for diversion, disguised in the most fimtas-
tic shapes. He often pursued low amorom hfif

I

XAKL OF ROCHKSTER. IS

trigMi vndflr mean appewaaees, and aiwsys acted
with grast correctneflB md dexterity iJie yarionl
charaeters wfaidi he assmned. On one oocasioiiy
heing obliged, by an unlucky accident, to keep
ont of the way, he diflgnised himself as an Italian
qoack or mountebank so effectually, that his nearest
fiiends could not haTe known him. Haring
erected a stage on Tower-Hill, he harangued die
populace on the mysteries of the healing art ; and
as he had read medical books for the sake of
his health, ^diich was suffering from the conse-
quences of his irregttlaritMs, he continued under
tills dmracter, to practise physic, for some weeks,
with eonaidenible success. So exact and true to
nature were many of these odd exhibitions, that
eren those who were in the secret, and saw him
in his various ^sguises, found it impossible to re*
cognise him, or detect any thing that might lead
to a disoofcry.

He had many strange contrivances to obtain
informa^n or anecdotes of scandal among the
nobility; and Burnet relates, that having found
imt a foot-man who knew all the court, and hay-
ing furnished him with a red coat and a mus*
ket as a oetitin^ he kept him the whole win-
ter, eirery night, at the doors oi such ladies as he
s us pec t ed to have intrigues. In the court a cen-
tinel was taken no notice c^, being generally sup-
poaed to be posted by a captain of the guards, to
prevent quarrels, or disputes ; so this military spy
saw dl who waUced about, and visited at forbid^
den hours. By this means he often nu^ unex-
pected discoveries ; and when he was well funished
with materials, he retired to the country for a
wanth or two to write libels and lann^na.

16 CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY.

This conree of life, howeyer, broke his oonsti'*
tntion, which was originally strong, and ndned hk
reputation almost beyond the hope of reco¥ery«
During the intervals of dissipation, he would spend
months together in study, either reading the wofka
of comic authors, or expending his wit in com*
posing ludicrous satires on the vices and adven-
tures of his companions, — an art in which he had
the peculiar talent of saying the most malicious
things in such a way as to please, rather than give
offence. In these occasional sallies, he did not
pretend to confine himself to the trudi, but mixed
facts with ftdsehoods, sparing nothing that might
gratify his revenge, or make the subjects of his
verse ridiculous. These expedients he eren der
fended as necessary ; alleging that no man could
express himself with life, unless heated by re<
venge; — and that to write a satire without re<
sentment, upon the cool principles of j^ulosophy,
was, as if a man would, in cold blood, cut another's
throat, who had never offended him; and he was
of opinion, that Hes in these libels came often ixk
as ornaments, that could not be spared, without
spoiling the beauty of the poem. •
• By indulging for a series d years in these per-
verse opinions, he had contracted principles which
almost quite extinguished the inherent propenaitiea
ki his nature to justice and virtue. Havingsumn*
dered himself, without reserve, to every licentioaa
haUt, — and finding it not convenient to ^dmit the
authority of laws, which he was resolved not to
obey, he had recourse to infidelity, the usual ex-
pedient of those, who, having yielded to the soli-
citations of passion or preju^ce, genially endea*
ronr to shelter their wickedness under iJie pria-;

EARL OF ROCHKSTBIL 17

^plesy or rat W the pretext of disbelief* For it
may be laid down as an obserration confinned by
vniYeraal experience, that a dislike to the precepts
and dnties cf Christianity, lays the foundation c^
all the doubts and objections that have been urged
against the evid^ices oi its truth, or the myste*
riooa nature of its doctrines. Men in general are
profligates before they turn scepticaL They be-
come uMistates, and abandon the paths of nrtne^
only when they find them no longer to be ways
of pleasantness and peacot Incredulity springs
more from the corrupticm c^the heart, anda rooted
disinclination of the will, than from any want of
conriction, any weakness of comprehension, or
error of the understanding. Few become infidels
who sit down to investigate the saored records of
Scripture, with earnest desires and honest inten-
tions. The candid inquirer is uniformly rewarded
with ocmviction. If any doubt or deny, it is not
that diey have found Christiaiiity to be false, but
because they have reasons or inclinations for wishing
it to be so ; and were it possible to remoTS the
apprehendkms of friture puni8hment,-*-to leyel the
distinctions between virtue and vice, and reconcile
conscience to criminal indulgences, we should soon
find neither atheists, infidels, nor sceptics in the
world.

It was by steps such as these that X<ord Ro-
ehester advanced in his career ; from profligacy to
impiety, — ^from a reckless debauchee, to a con-
firmed disbeliever. Like most other apostates,
his guilt had this aggravating circumstance, that
he not only gloried in wickedness himself, and
mratified every appetite to the utmost extent, but
M laboured most industriously to instil the moral

b2

18 CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY,

poison into the minds of others, — ^to undo tbeif
virtues, and strengthen their evil principles, as if
he wished to root out from the nature of man
every resemhlance to his Maker. Those diecks and
fears -which occasionally visited him, especially in
times of sickness, he endeavoured hy ev«ry means
to extirpate — ^to dispossess hims^, not only of the
belief, hut if possible, of the very thoughts wood
apprehensions of religion. To thb diabolical
purpose he bent all the efforts of his wit, — all
the energies of his genius ; and it was even the
object to which he often directed his literary
amusements, when he found leisure, amidst the
paroxysms of intemperance, to prosecute his so*
litaiy studies. ** He took as much pains," says
the writer of his foneral sermon, << to draw othm
•in, and pervert the right ways of virtue, as the
apostles and primitive saints ^id to save their own
eouls, and them that heard them. He was dili-
gent to recommend and propagate his sentimoits ;
iraming arguments for sin, — ^making proselytes to
it, — and writing panegyrics on vice." He fre-
quently, in debate, took the side of atheism, and
«rgued with great vigour against virtue and pety,
^* being resolved," as he said, ''to run them down
with all the arguments and spite!llll the world." ^
One very remarkable instance of this extrmie
blasphemy happened at an athmtical meeting in
the house of a person of quality, where he under-
took to manage the cause of infidelity, and was
the principal ^sputant against God and reU^^on.
He maintained the contest with such ingenuity
and success, that his performance received liie
applause of the whole company. But this awftd
erliibition of irreverence and impiety he could not

SAAL OF ROGHBSTER. 19

contemplate witlioat some feeding of remorB&
The strange fnconsistency of his conduct stmck
his mind so forcibly, that he immediately express*
ed to himself, '< Good God ! that a man who walks
upright, and sees the wonderfol works of Godt
and has the use of his senses and his reason, should
use them to the drying of his Creatcn' I"
• Mmy such occasions of reprehension and remone
occurred during his career of unbridled licentious-
ness. He had ofi»n moments fidl of terrors, and
«ad intervals of melancholy reflections, in which
he felt, in all its bitterness, the deep anguish that
springs from a wounded spirit* For Aough he
luul gone the guilty round of every profane and
^sensual gratification, — though there was no plea-
sure which he had left imtasted, — no form of
wickedness in which he had not engaged, '* with-
holding his heart from no joy, and whateveac his
eyes desired he kept not frx)m them ;* yet even
these incessant and unrestrained indulgences were
insufficient to prevent tlie intrusion of disagree-
able thoughts, or render life a scene of perpetual
gaiety, and unmingled delight. Need we a stronger
evidence than this, that it is not the uncontrolled
gratification of appetites and passions, nor the
riches and enjoyments of the world, that can
XMMQfer the hdm of happiness, or quiet the re-
proaches of an accusing conscience ?

Often have the superior advantages of such pur-
euits been held out by the votaries of pleasure, who
array tlieir hopes in bright and attractive colours,
and would pei^uade the unwary to ^iter the smooth
•Mid flowery path, that will conduct them to the
•snmmit of felicity. But their arguments are as de-
''43Mtfiil as their joys are fleeting and pemidons,

20 CONVERTS 7BOM INFIDELITY.

yMA only duzle the imaginslioii when yiewed
in the pomp and glitter of cnminaT or faafaioiiable
amisementB. But when the mirth and tnmnlt of
company Bubside, the splendid enchantment eooa
diMalTes, and leaves them the wretched dapen of
their own mistaken choice, — the Tictims of that
misery, and remorse, and infiany, which always
ieXLaw in the train of Ucentioiisness. The imt-
ward symbols of gaiety, are often but the diagnise
of* turboient and gloomy thonghts,-^-the made of
•fiected lerity, which hHk off in soHtade and re-
tirement, and exposes the real misery of tlinr
condition, which Uiey had Tainly hoped to conceal
mder temporary and artificial cheerfvdness. It ia
addom that even the most bold and recklesa iafif
delity can socceed in altogether baniahing sober
neflection from the mind, or charm to sfaindier, by
all its specioas contrivances, the reproaches of eo»-
acienoe, the vigilant tormentor of uie guilty breast
To erade these terrota and re^Mehensions, men of
pkasnre haive had xeconrse to a strange mnltiplfr*
dty of ezpedieBts. They will mingle in idle and
fiudiionaUe dissipatuins, or engage deeply in the
cares and f^culiUiens of life ; or, peradventnie, as
a last refine, fly in their deepair, like a dying man
to an extreme medicine, to the forms and niini»>
trations of i)eligion,^«-the ordinary resort of tha
timid and superstitions. Others adopt a more
commcHi, and perhaps n more efiEectual expedient,
and stuf^ their senses in condaned dissipation,*—
filling up their giddy moments with a sncceasion
of £u)entious indulgences. In this way they may
eontriye to exdiude every intrudnr on didlr nnhai*
kwed repose, and fisr a time to escape the i»-
moB s tran ces, and ercn ^ obserration of tUr
own minda*

. EARL OF ROCHESTER. 21

• But this artificial tranquillity is but momenr-
tary in its duration, and can neiVer confer that
happy composure which results from a regu-
lar and virtuous life, — and can only be the off-
spring and the companion of innocence. There
is a time when wit and beauty cannot charm,'—
when pleasures become tasteless — and the ex-
hausted £eu;ulties lose the power to relish, or even
to receiye their accustomed gratifications. There
are seasons of languor, when the mind, as well aa
the body, becomes weary of tiie foUies of the
world. Vacancies and pauses must intervene;
and these will generally be filled up with dismal
and disquieting anticipations. It is then that con-^
science, long suppressed, begins to remonstrate
in severer terms, with those who had sealed their
ears to its reproof, and imposed a reluctant silence
on its admonitions. To whatever asylum they
inay repair, it will follow ; even in the haunts if
dissipation it will find its unhappy victim ; for thia
fiiithful witness, unless it can be restrained by
violent means, or imposed upon by false pretences,
will not remain an indifierent spectator of human
actions, nor sit a willing member in the councils
of the ungodly. It cannot, after all the efforts
of impiety, be utterly expunged fi*om the soul,^^
and is rarely found, even after a prolonged course
of intempoiuice, seared into remorseless insensi*
bility.

' Hardened and fortified as this dissolute noble^
man was in his widced practices, he found it im-
possible to shake off all the restraints of fear and
leverence for a Supreme Being, or silence by all
His arguments the still small voice of his own cou"
arioice^ which often spoke out with a temble anr.

22 COMVBllTS VROM IMFIDICLITT.

toOiuyy sm fcpioMciieu mni lor mi cniMi« j
Tierjr h^gfat of his muth, and amidst the li
focfaidden delighta, there were momente whi
thougblB eondemiiAd hka^ wben be k>oked
}m conduct as madness and Miky, and win
wonld wiUingly liaTe exchanged his conditioi
the hiunhle beggar on the streets^ Mpfacim b
wmtonly psracMUited in his sallies of extrcv
divemon. It was in these gloomy mtervali,
lally occasioned by smne fit of indispositioi
effects of his debancberies, that h»ieh &oee ii
checks and oonponctioos TisitingBa Thei
prassion, bowerer, was by no means deep o
manent ; and when bis sickness left hkn, his
krtioBS Tanished like die mornmg clond.
momentary regrets wore not awakened bj
principle of religum, or by any proper sense <
eaahnity of his guilt ; they rose more froi
Tagoe fears and apprehensions of an ill-regi
mind ; and were rather le^igs esdled by s
of natoral horror, than by any detemuned
pose of amendment.

He had great remorse for his past Kfe^
sorry he had degraded his character by man
justifiable and unbecoming actions, — and hi
diiced his constkntkm to smcb a state of p
tnre weakness and decay : but he felt no s;
eoQTiction of sinning against God^ — no sorrc
having violated the laws, or offended the M
of hmiveii. And though, at such times, he
plied with the wishes of his fnends, so far
admit the visits of cleig)'men, it was with
tendon of expecting consolation, or profitn
their instmcdons. If he desired them to
it was merely as a piece of civility or

BARL OF ItOCHBSTEiL 29

liraedmg ; fiir Jie regnrded the whole as a f<Hriiial
sad vsdLeas cesrem<my. Sometimes his sidoiesaet
had the efiect of straoigthemiig his bad ptineipiesy
and jnepossfistti^ him more strongly against reli"
giim ; while his wicked companioas talong adnm-
tage of his iafiimity} endeavoured to confirm him
im hia infidelity^ by effikdng from his lyond, as far
as posdble, all befief and apfureh^osion of fntmity.
One oocnrrence in the early part of his life he
mentions^ which greatly staggered his fiuth in the
reality of a state of existence hoeaftery aad tended
VMich to encourage him in his profiigate courses.
When he went jfirst to sea in 1665^ tfa^ happened
to be in tlie same diip with him two particakr
finends> a Mr Moatague, and another gentleman of
qnality. Iliese two> especially the former, seemed
aessoaded that they duudd never return to Eag-
laad. Hie Earl of Rochester entered into a fer«
mal engagement with the latter of these gentle-
Bien, not witfaeat cerenumies of religion, that if
dther of them died, he efaould appear, and give the
other notice of the future state, if there was any.
Wlien the day came that th^ were to attack the
Dutch fleet in the Bay of Bergen* Mr Montague^
though he had such a strong presentiment in his
mind of his amyroacfaing death, yet gallantly exposed
himself all uie while in places of the greatest daoh
ger. The other geatleinaa signalised his courage
in a most andaunted manner, till the end of &
action, when he fell on a mdden into saii^ a fit of
trembfing, that he coald scarcely steod, and Mr
Montague going to lum to hold him up, as they
wece in each other's arms, a eaaaonr^ball killed
tbem both on the spot* Tfais singular coincidence
betweeo the S^ and the preaagas of these iadivl-

S4 CONVERTS FROM INFlO£LITY.

duals, made some unpresskm on the mind of Lordi
Rochester, and persoaded him that the soal wM
a separate and d&tinct heing, and had secret no*
tices conmimiicated to it, either by a natural
sagacity, or a sort of divination. But his firi^Hla
never retomii^ to give him the stipulated intelli-
gence, was, as he confessed, a stamblmg4)}0ck t#
his faith during the rest of his life. »

Akhoogh the possibility of such a revelation: or
intercourse between material and incorporeal: hefi
ings were admitted, yet the expectation, and the
evidence reqmred, were quite unreasoni^le ; and
one \dio had' so for corrupted the natural ^piiwf
cipliBS of truth as he had done, coukl scarcely
knagine that a special miracle would be wrought
for his conviction. The reproof applied cm a sv^
milar occasion to tiie incredulous Jews who wero
continually demanding signs and wonders, might
have occurred to check Uie folly of all such ap^
peals to supernatural events : << If they hear not
Moses and the prophets, neither will they be per*
Buaded though one rose from the dead."

Another singular example of a prophetical appre-
hension with regard to death, whrch persuaded him
the more of the spirituality, or at least the separate
existence of the soid, is mentioned as having oo>
curred in his presence, in the house of his mother-
in-law, the Lady Warre. The chaplain had dreamed
that on a certam day he should die, but being set
upon by the whole ftimHy, he was rallied or signed
out of this belief, and had almost forgot the circum-
stance, till the evening before at supper ; ihere being
thirteen at table, one of the young ladies, according
to a fond conceit that one of them must soon die^
pomted to him as the person* Immediately ra«

XARIr or ROCHESTER. SS

tnemberii^ his drBaniy his apprBhensioiiB retnniedy
and lie fell into* some disorder ; and upon Liad^r
Ware's refproving kim for his sut^erstition, he said
he was confident he was to die beftM'e morning ;
httt bong in perfect health, his prediction was not
much r^arded. It was Saturday night, and he
was to preach next day. He went to his cham-
ber, and sat up late, as appeared by the bmning of
his candle ; and he had been'' preparing Ids' notes
for his sermon, but was fotmd dead in his bed th6
matt morning. Tins oecorrence had' a consider-
able effect in biassing his- persnasion that death
was not the final- dissolution of the soul;, but only
lim separation of it from its earthly companion ;
mod dus belief was farther strengthened by what
he felt in himself when labouring under sickness^
^^lidi, though it reduced his body and his animal
■pirits to the lowest degree of exhaustion, left his
reas(nr and^iis judgment dear and strong. But
these conyictiens had no effect in dianging his moral
principles^ or reclaiming him from his habits of in-
temperances Engaged in a succession of drunken
frolics- and soasual indulgences, with intervals of
study perhaps still more criminal ; with a reckless
disregard of every moral restraint, and an obstinate
denial of every religions obligation, he lived worse
ifaan useless and blazed out his youdi and his
AealUi in extravagant pleasures.

In the winter of 1679, he was seized with a
Ticdent sickness^— a dispensation fi^quently em-
ployed widi effect, to arrest and reclaun the wan-
derer, and melt the stubborn temper of the impe-
Bitent heart. This occasion led him to an ac^
qoaintance with Dr Burnet, whose History of the
Bafnrmaitiimj then newly pwbliahed, \aa\i«cdsdsi^

tS CONVKRTS FROM INFlBIfclTT.

Ind pemaedy and foond nmcfa cnlertaiiiHieBt in ii
Neitlier the Tisits of thu emiMiii divine^ nqr tht
Buljects upon which they eoavened^ proved db-
tastefol or uaacceptaUe to hiin. Tbrar intnncy
toon grew into a particnlar friendidiipy aad a moift
nnreienred ftmiliaiity. Willi aH the CreedoM and
candour imaginabie^he laid opeaa to lam the eowia
of hia past life, and the tenov of hia opnioMi
both on religion and morality. ^ I waa m&k laag
in his company," laya Dr Buniet, ^ when he tald
me he should treat me with nK»e freedom thai
he oTer used to men of my proCeasion ; he would
conceal none of his prindplea from me, hot lay his
thoughts <^n without any diaguiBe ; nor wofM
he do it to maintain debate, or shew his wit, Iwt
plainly tell me what stuck with him ; and he piup
tested to me, that he was not so engaged to his <M
maxims as to resolye not to diaage^ but thai if ha
could be Gonyinced, he would chooaa rather to ba
of anoth^ mind. He said he would impaitiaUy
weigh what I should lay before him,, and tell ma
freely wh^i it did convince, and trbeti it did not
He expressed this diapositiQii of mind to me ia a
manner so frank, that I could not but believB him»
and be much taken with his way of discourse ; aa
we entered into almost all the parts of natural and
revealed religion, as wdl as of morality. Ha
seemed pleased, and in a great measure aatiafied^
especially when I vinted Imn in his last aidoiea^
with what I said upon many of these heads ; and
though our freest conversation was when we wen
alone, yet upaa several occasimis other penoM
were witnesses to it* I llc^owed him with aadi
arguments as I saw were viost likely to pcemal
with tim ; and my noli uvf^ other raaaoaa, |mn»*

V dMt h any so( be limfikl iImI
ivmft of i|Nrit8 Bttde kini noro
toneeife asf inprenKMn ; fcr u M tot d I

aI IBS CMHBHBCBHHnI of tilBV IBtVCtMUmv O^

tobar 1679, kb Lovdahip was resident in Loiidoii»
nAwre he contbined till April follewinff, wken lie
aeaeofed to him ewn liofaBe, the lodge et Woodstock
Fatky n^i^fiivrBd the memorable eceiieof bii
c on nc ii op, bii penite&ce, and deetb. Tbe wb-
■tHBoe mi tbno eekitaiy oonTenalioiM, m well m
Ike i w r i o iM peiBti so freely canTMsed between tbo
noble ooBvert «nd his distingnished Tisitor, are re«
corded by Dr Bnmet at considerable length, in bia
aoeonnt of die life and ileath of the Earl,— -a book
which, to use Ih Johnson's beaudful and expres-
sif« evlogfon, tbe critic ongbt to read for its ele*
ganoer-^be ^ilosopher fm its argnmentf— and
the aaint for its piety. As the main object of
tihii and tbe aneeeeding narradres is to detail the
aefendstapa which led from profligaev and im*
piety, to a tatai diange of nuumevi and optmona^
andairmbdief m the trathaMl veaaoHmenaai
af CMsdanky, we shall not think it any ii^wT
to the leader to offer him an abridgement of thM

The three dneftUnga that came Wider dMeaa-

S8 CONVERTS FROM INFIDKLITY.

Scripture reyelation, e«|>ecidly Chrntiaiiity. The
system of morality he had adopted, wm yeryr lax
and superficial* He admitted it to be necesBBiy,
both for the goTermnent of the world, and for the
preservation of health, life, and friendship; and
though he talked of it as a &ie tiling, yet this was
only in compliance with the cwr^icy of pnbhe
opinion ; and because the established order of av*
ciety and of human afiiedrB, made the rep a tatifltt
of it essential to his credit and his intercourse widi
mankind. He regarded it merely as an ext^nal
covering which men wore from custom or faMxm^
in the same way as decency requires the use of
clothes and good breeding ; and if they could con*
ceal their vices from the eye of the world, behind
this moral drapery, he thought they might indulge
their appetites and their evil passi<ms with impunity.
This view, he believed to be the general opinion
on the subject ; and that many who spoke loudly
in its praise, shewed by their conduct they cared
not for it.

In support of his theory, he adduced the prao*
tice of men professing and swearing friendship^
when they hated mortally; their oaths and im-
precations in their addresses to women, nducii
they never intended to make good ; the pleasure
tiiey took in defaming eminent persons, and spread-
ing false reports of some, perhaps in revenge, be-
cause they could not engage them to comply with
theur wicked designs ; the delight they had in mak<^
ing people quarrel ; tiieir unjust usage of their cre^
ditors, and puttmg them o£P by any deceitfiil nio-
mise they could invent, that might free them mm
present importunity. — ^These crimes, all of ^diicfa
ie had himself becoi guilty of^ he by no means jna-i

BARL OF SOCHXSTBR. 89

tiied or ^oonnMM ; wi the contrary, he k)oked
vpoa ihem widi ilwiie and some degree of re*
none; Imt tlik was fsdier that they had broiiglit in*
hmj <nk him duameter, and pain and disease upon
hk body, ifaan from any deep aense of haying of-
indiBd B Smpnme Bemg. IJe had no concern
far tito aetiaiis of hk past life as transgreesions
a g ainBt 4aie kfro of God, hut only as they had iB>
jared hia heahh and reputatieii, ubA been pn^ndU*
cial to odieia. Some of his notions cmcemmg his
Vint foHy and infotoaition, were pertinent and cor*
recty and even canied him so lur that he had re*
•olfvd femly to cfaai^ his dissohite and extrava-
gant habits ; bnt his idea was that he coald effect
thia aeleiy by the roles and maxims of philosophy.
Upon diis sdbject, his veneiable friend endea-
f'a wod to mdeoeATe him, wi^ regard to the effi*
caey of philosophy as an instmment of moral re-
fMVMtion. He diewed its weaknesses and de-
fects ; that it was a matter of speculation which
few had either the Insure or the capacity to is-
(fuin into ; but the principle that was fitted to re-
form the world, must be obvious to every man's
understanding : That as a rule of m<Hrality, it vras
▼ery vague and general, containing no certain stan-
dai^ and merely ddmeating the great ootltnes of
oanr duty and obligation, — leaving much to be de-
temmied by the ftmdes of men, and the customs
of nations t That it wanted auflicient authority 16
give sanction and efifeet to its preeeptsy however
exeeBent liiey might be in themselves ; and con-
aequentfty was too feeble to contend with the pro^
pensfties of corrupt natm:e, or restrain the violenee
oi our afipetites and nasaons : That many of the
ayvtana of «liiieBl imileao^iy went to fidictdous

c 2

so CONVERTS FROM INFIDKLITY*

and impracticable extxemes ; some enjoining tin
entire extirpation of all our feelings and caies, am
redudiig their frigid disciples to an absolute apatb]
and unconcern for any tmng,— a ccmditiony whidi
could it be realized, would render life easy am
tranquil, by fortifying it against the influence of al
outward accidents, and allinwardpertuibation; ba
which, it was e^dent, would dissolve the bonds q
society, extinguish all the sympathies of humanity
and in exempting men from troubles, would de
prive them of their noblest pleasures, and tbei
purest enjoyments: Others, on the contrary
stretched &eir privileges and accommodations in
a criminal extent, letting loose their votaries fron
every salutary restraint, prescribing no rigorous ad
of abstinence or self-denial, nor calling upon then
to fight against passions, or root out affectioa
which nature has herself imjdanted ; but makin|
inclination the only rule and measure of their ac
tions, and extending the limits of indulgence to th
utmost boundary of their wishes. This latter syi
tem seemed exactly to coincide with the men
creed of the licentious nobleman. The two gran^
maxims of his morality were, that he should d
nothing to injure others, or prejudice his owi
health, and within these limits he was of opinioi
that all pleasures of a sensual kind were lawful
provided they were indulged without hurting th
mdividual, or being injurious to society ; and i
appeared to him quite unreasonable to imagim
that these propensities were implanted in man onl;
to be resisted and subdued by such painful efforti
or restricted within such rigid and narrow oonoet
sions as robbed life of its chief enjoyments.
To this it was objected, that if i^petitea wen

KARL OF ROCHESTER. SI

i» be indulged, merely becanae they were natural^
then the revengeful man might us well nrge thia
as an argiiment for murder, 4nr the covetons for
.atealing, since they feel inclinations no less keen
for iheh and bloodshed ; yet no one will plead the
force of appetite in their defence, or deny that such
pr(^>enBities ought to be cubed. If it be alleged
that the injury in^cted in these eases makes a dif-
ference, and a venial distinction in favour of liber-
tinism ; the injury is as great if a man's wife or
his daughter is dishonoiired, as if lus property or
his own person were violated ; and it is impossible
for a man not to transgress in these particulars,
if he follows the unrestrained impulse of vagrant
and irregular passions : and there is no other re-
medy for ^ese disorders, than to check such in^*
ordinate desires. It does not appear mere unna«
tnral, that God should intend our brutiBh and
carnal appetites to be governed by our reason^
than that the fierceness of beasts should be tamed
by the strength or wisdom of men, and converted
mto a useful engine for his service andhis happi-
ness. Nor can it be deemed absurd to suppose,
that the iqppetites of mea. were designed on purpose
to exercise their reason in restraining and governing
than ; which, if subdued, minister a h^her and
more lasting pleasure, than if they were left to
the fuU scope of lawless gratifications.
. To avoid such objects as excite the passions, is
a mflzim of philosophy as well as of morality ; and
nothing tends more to stimulate these, tluai habits
ofintempefance; nothing darkens the understa^d-p
ing and depresses the mind moie ; nor does any
tmng give luore frequent occasion of other immora*
'*' sndi as oaths and impzecatiQna9 'wloidk .«%

'.

F

n CONVKftTS mOM mVIMELITT.

Wily intflsded to compMS wuM ta aouiPBd.
I were liiere no othor aduoementB to dklK

the eapeme thet is aoce a Mi y to fB n tnt iii n »
dieee irregiilaritiee, would make him fdae
olher deimiigs. K it was reesi^Mthle then,
man should restrain ^s appetites in thmge
he knew were hnrtfnl to him, it was eqv
ikaX Ood dboidd prescribe hounds and regi

.1

i

ri t* <liedc -die wemdaervaa ^ects tnat neo

I

1

11.

I

r' I

yesoh from '^em when carried to excess.

nde of domg to others, what we woiM htm

i^t do unto vs, he just, whidi cannot he- di

/: theft they wlro ieel themselTos sensibly sSe

any idMuHioor clfiBred to dieir wives or dn

nttst oondemn their own misoondact, for c

anotherintet they would resent wkh hones

I BliDn, efen if Totue and morality were on

q ae ot ion. And if the peace of sodety, and

tisfttftionof oar own minds ought to be <mm

leading designs of our actions, then let

worid judge, whether the man who confi

appetites, and liyes contented at home, ts m

k happier than diose who let thmr deprared «i

j^j run after Dnhidden objecte. Restraint

' i difficult, and it is so in reality, when a max

^: hknsctf many 19»ertie»; hut they who aToS

' - mons of temptation and imp«« exdtemc

keep thems^es weU employed, find ihe
and domimcm over these no such hard or
aible conquest as ^ey at first imagined.

Mon^y, to subdue the cormptionB of

must have a stronger sanction than the pi

or the dictates of philosophy. A man i

> determined by a law within himself; if i

his actions only by the ndes and \

EARL OF ROCHESTER* 39

dec^cy, or the injnnctionB of humaa aathority,
these would merely teach him to use caution and
dissimulation in his evil practices ; but they could
never secure umversal integrity, nor regulate the
internal sfMings ofvirtiie. The 4awB of morality,
have not fixed the land-marks of duty, or the Ipst
houndaries of obligation in a constrained, obedienoe^
■or in outward and formal con^liances. There
must be the obedience of the heart, a. delight and
satisfection in the mind, otiierwise ^eir require-
ments are not fulfilled at all ; and this cannot.be
effected unless corrupt nature be regenouted and
changed by some higher power. All the theories
and speculations of philosophy, beautiful and in-
genious as they were, would avail nothing towards
such a renovation of heart and life, — a change
which could be accomplished only through the
influence and assistance of the divine Spirit ; and
whoever, on such- occasions, applied to God hy
earnest prayer, would feel themselves disengaged
horn tiie bondage of their vices, and endued with
power to resist them.

To all this, his Lordship replied, that it sounded
to Inm like enthusiasm or canting; he.hadno.no-
tkm of it, and so could not understand it. He
comprehended the dictates of reason and philoso-
phy, in which, as the mind became jn(H:e conver-
sant, there would soon follow, as he believed,„a
greats eaaness in obeying its precepts : but that
inward impressions should .conquer the natural
appetites, or expel inclinations, deeply rooted in
the constitution, must be ascribed to we force of
an over-heated fancy ; it-^was only the stroq^ di*
Tersion of the thon^its that gave tins seoaing vic-
tory ; and he did not doubt. \m% if quo ciora&ii msti

34 CONVBRTS FROM IKFn»KLlTY

to aproUem^ Eiicfid, or t6 mite acopy oir enmf
it w<raM kaYe llie flame effsot.

If audi Btadie«> he was aiurwefed, 4id oi^
divert the thoi^tB, there might he flone truth in
what he said ; but if they not only Buppvesaed
and extkpated eudi defli^BS, b»t created otiiem
directly contrary, and hroaght me^ mto a m&w
habit and dii^Kwition of mind ; then it imuit be
oonfesBed there was something more tiam a mera
diversion from one sohject to anothnTy in those
dianges that spring from religions pmci^dea. It
oonld not be supposed wireasonable, that the So-
preme Powar, which directed the whole frame of
nature, might, if he pleased, commnnicate thoughts
andimpressions to onr minds ; and as he is a Bong
of infinite goodness, it may be presumed that he
would give his asdstaace to such as denred it.
And though on some occasions he m^t operate
on the mind in an extraordinary manner, yet since
he had endowed men with the faculty of re as on,
it was fit that they should employ imtt as fin* as
they could, — and where it was wedk or impedlBCty.
beg the assistance of His Spirit, which they could
certainly do. All this was consistent wi^ ma-
son and probability; and good men, who felt,
upon their frequent application to God in prayvr,
a freedom and deliTeraace horn those sinfrd im-
pressions that formerly prevailed against diem^— >
an inward love to virtue and goodness, — an eaoinem
and delight in all parts of their duty, which ww
fed and cherished in them by seriousness in pniyery
had languished m that decreased or dinappearad^
and m real a peroeptien of an inward s t r e ugth ia
their mmds, that rose md fell wkh devotiim, an
tfaef peroeived iha aUMaglh of ^Mr h ad i ai hK

KARL OF ROCHESTER. 55

CTOMod or impaired, according as they bad or
vaoted pnmer nouriahmeat. After many conf(»-
ranoes on this nilMect, his Lordship staU contimied
to think all was tLe efifect of fuicy. But though
lie was not convinced, he was so fiur snbdned as
to admowledge, ibax he thoo^t they were happy
whose fimcies were nnder the powo: of such im-
pwwsionHj since they had scmie foundation on which
thor minds nngfat rest : he came, however, in a
w&ry short time, to ijter his sentiments concerning
prayer and ipritual assistance.

From thia subject they were led to converse on
the nature of the Deity, and on the general no*
ti«a of reHgiQii.

As to a Supreme Being, lie had always some
iMpreasioii of one, and often declared that ho
had neTo: known an entire atheist, who fiilly bar
Uoved th«e w^/i no God. He could not think
the world was made by chance ; and the regular
oevrse of nature seemed to demcmstrate the eternal
po w e r of its AuthcM:. Yet when he came to ex-
plain his notion of this Being, it amounted to
no nsore than a vast power, which wrought every
thnw by the aeaessity of its natuve, and had none
of me attributes of justice or goodness which we
ascribe to ihe Deity, — none of those affections of
lofVB or hatred that give rise to himian passions
and perturbations,— 4UDLd conse^ently, he could
not see that there was to be either rewards or
■nmshments. To attribute such (pialities to <jo^
oe thought was only to lower our conceptions of
Vmf. — to bring down his incomprehensible perfec-
tuna to the level and the sJmHitudo of humaa
weaknesB ; and to talk of loving him, appeared to
ho the gieateat presQni^iaon» tho\MAl ot % twoiv^&dL

S6 CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY.

er enthusiastic temper. A general cdebradon of
him in some short hymn, was the only religioiA
address or homage he thought proper to be pftUI;
all the other parts of worship he regarded as th6
invention of' priests; to make the world behere
they possessed tiie secret of incensing orappeasuig
the Deity as they" pleased. In short, he was peiV
siiaded- that there neither was a special proyidonee
about human aifairs, nor that prayers were of mucl
use, — since that was to suppose God « weak being
like ourselves, who could be overoome-wkfa inf
treaties and importunities. And for the state after
death, though he believed the soul did not ^
with the body, yet he doubted whether theiitf
could be any such thing as an eternal retribution
of happiness or misery ;— ^^he one he thought too
high for us to attain by our slight services^ and
the other was tooisevere^an^ extreme to be mflicted
lor sim

These speculatioiis, hie was tok^ were very «i«
suiti^le and contradictory to a proper view of die
divine character. His notions of God were so • kyw,
that the Supreme Being seemed to be nothing but
nature^ — ^the appearances- and operations of wiudi
were directly of^iosed to his system ; for if theorder
of the unit^erse persuaded him to think there was a
€rod, he mus^ at ^e same time, conceive him to be
both wise and good, as well as powerful^ smce
these all appeared equally in the creation ; thou(^
Bis wisdom and goodness were often- exerted in
ways fiur beyond our knowledge or comprehen-
flion. And smce he possessed the attributea of
wisdom and goodness, it was natural that he should
love and be pleased with those that resembled
hka kk AoBe perfeetiona, and di&Uke those of vk

XASL OF BOCaXSTER. 37

oppoiite diaracter. That his mercy^ or loye^
or wagjstf should raise passions or imeasiness in
Ubb, it were quite unreasonable to suppose ; these
being weaknesses we fe^ in ourselyes, and which
ve occasioned solely because we want the power
or the ikiU: to accomplish our wi^es and desires, —
defects wUeh are not attributable to the Deity.
}ffi$hBt can we imagine that they who imitate
wad resemble him, should not enjoy his special
fiV0ur ; and consequently, that he will assist their
endeavours after good, by such helps or rewards
aa are suitable to their nature. But as this does
iNyt appear in the present order of things, it is
nest reasonable to presume that it will take place
in another state, where there will be ft more per-
ffBCH c^mfcNTHHty to God, and an abundant recoup
penae in the felicity that accompanies it ; while
the contrary of this, viz. the want of sudi resem-
Uance and enjoyment, must incur his displeasure^
and be attended with all the pains and penalties
im^aed hk a totalr exclusion from his presence*

These conclusions seined ta be the natural re-
wAtB of a good or a bad lif<^ and to establish the
aecesdty of rewards and punishments as the ef-
fpvta of divine justice ; and since he admitted the
Nvl to hare a separate and distinct eadsteqce firom
Ifae body, there could be no grounds for thinking,
dbat aft^ dissolution it passed into a state of uttw
dl^Tion or insensibility; but that since the re-
flectiiMiB on the good or evil it had done, must be
ft aooroe of joy or misery, so departed sods, re-
tainmg these dii^tositiQns, must either rite to a
Uiglier perfectskm, or sink to a condition of greater
depravity and wretdbedness ; and thnr sensilnlitiea
htaag tboi more egquiaite, will dtliec «ialti iIm

VOL. I. n

I

38 CONVERTS FROM IITFIBELrrY.

happiness of the good, or increase the hoitorts cl
the wicked, — as uiey will not find, as in this tife^
« variety of ohjects and affairs to occupy anddi^
vert their attention. This final discriminatioii
between the righteous and the wicked, appeared
therefore to be a necessary sequel or co]T>llary to
the belief of a Snpreme Being ; since the distinctioa;
is manifestly not clearly made in this woiid, but
rather seems to confoimd and contradict our no-
tions of the wisdom, goodness, and justice of the^
Deity.

As to the government of the world by »
superintending power or providence, there -could
be no rational argument ui^ed against it. AU
that can with any plausibility be objected is, fhe
distraction which that infinite variety of second
causes, that immensity of cares and coneeni% «
presumed to give to the Being who inspects, ar-
itmges, and directs them. But, as among men,
those of wesket capacities are wholly taken vp
with some one thing; whereas others of more
enlarged powers, can, without embarrassmeiit,
have many things within their care, — as the eye
can at one view receive a great variety of objects
without confusion, in the narrow c<nnpass c^ its
lucid chamber ; so if we conceive the Divine «i-
derstanding to be as far Above ours, as his pow^
in creating and supporting the whole universe, k'
above our limited activity, we shall no more tfa^ik
the govenmaent of the -world an incumbrance mt
distraction to him ; and when once this pFejudke
is overcome, we shall be ready to acknowledge a
providence directing and conducting all a£bii%x-f«
tare well becoming the great Creator.
In the next place, as to the kind of wQunbapm

EARL. OF ROCHESTEIU 39

adofodon which it was proper to address to the
Ddity ; we had certainly very erroneous concep-
tions of it, if we imagined that our worship was
something which added to his happiness, or gave
him sach a fond pleasure as weak people have to
hear themselves commended; or that our repeated
pntyers could overcofiie him through mere impor?
tonity. The ohject of all religious intercourse
whether public or privatOy with God, is intended
to affect the mind of the worshipper, to strengthen
good impressions, and nourish a devout temper,
which is the cU^ root of all true holiness and vir-
tue. A man is never entirely reformed till a new
Jyrinciple govern his thoughts ; and nothing makes
that principle so strong as solemn and frequent
meditations of God, whose- nature j though it be far
above our comprehension, yet his goodness an4
wisdom are intelligible ; and he that thinks often
of God, and considers him as governing the world,
and as ever observing all his actions, will feel the
«fiect of such communion and reflections very sen-
sibly by the influence they have on his life and
eonduct.

The frequent returns of these are necessary, lest
if we allow them to be neglected or discontinued
too long, these impressions will grow feebler, or
be supplanted by others of a contrary and inju-
rious tendency. The answers to our prayers are
not to be considered as favours extorted by im-
portunity, but as rewards conferred on men so
well-disposed and prepared for tbem. It is a mis-
take to suppose God can be operated upon, or
moved by our requee^ as a fellow-creature i^.
The alteration is not in the Giver, but in the peti-
tioner, who by asking in sincerity, fulfils the c(m<-

40 COyVERTS FROM INFIDELITY.

dition on wbich the diyine bannty is inyaii^ly and
nncluuiffdabjy administered. It is true we cannot
inform mm of any tbing he does not know, nor add
ought to his essential luappiness and peifeetionBy hy
any services of ours ; but this is not th^ end or
the efibct of prayer ; it is om: own comfcHt and
amendment that is intended ; and by this esxpedSent
ovir p^K». and fdidty are increased, as we are
thereby admitted to nearer fellowship with God^
and hare our natures more and more asdmilated
to his Dixine image.

What the essence of the Deity is, we can form
no adefoate coiiceptions, as indeed we have no just
idea of any essence whatsoerer ; for we genendly
consider aU objects by their outward figure, or by
iheir effiscts, and from th^ce draw inferences wlial
their nature nuist be. Pure incorporeal spirit baa
no resemblance to any thing material, and ^ere-
fore cannot be compared or expressed by senedble
hnaff es ; but though no man hath at any time seen
his shape, or can comprehend the nature of the Divi*-
nity, yet from the ducoveries he has made of him-
self, we may form such notions of his character as
may possess our minds with great reverence for
liim, and beget in us such a love for those perfec-
tions, as to engage us to imitate them. For when
we say we lore God, the meanhig is, we love thai
Being who is holy, just, good, wise, and infinitely
perfect ; and loving these attributes in him will cer-
tainly carry us to desire them in ourselves ; for
whatever we admire in another, we naturally en-
deavour to copy and transcribe into our own prac-
tice ; and it is not until we become enamfoured of
ihe object, that we pursue it wfth alacrity, or widh
ib eameet to get poBoeBaon of it.

BARL OF ROCHESTEIh > 41

If. eould be no proof that the reverence and
celebration of the Divine Being enjoined by relir
gioQy was. an impofiture <h* a cunning invention of
priest-craft to cheat the world, that superstition
bad sometimes made use of them as an engine
of tyranny over the conscience and reason of
mankind. Such criminal and delusive artifices
y^eape nothing but what occurred in every sort of
employment or profession to which men betake
themselves. Mountebanks and empirics corrupt
physic; pettifoggers have entangled questions of
property, and defeated the ends of justice. Every
o^upadon has been vitiated and perverted by the
knaveries of practitioners^; yet no man can take '
eQeasi<m from this to deny that there are such
sdiBDces in existence as law and medicine. So nei-
ther is it fair or reasonable to infer that all reli-
gious worship is a parcel of impious or ridiculous
ceremonies, because it has been disfigured and cor-
rupted by the fanciful additicms of human art.

These arguments, though many of them could
not be answered, were not all equally satisfiactory.
His Lordship seemed to be ccmviaced that ta che-
rish constant impressions of God in the mind,
would be the most powerful means to reform the
worlds and did not appear altogether incredulous
on the government of the world b^ a Divine pro-
vidence. But as for a future state, he thought it
more likely that the soul began anew course ; and
that her sense of what- was done in the body, con-r
sisting merely in impressions made on the brain,
as soon as the material part was dissolved, aU traces
or recollection of what was past would perish, and
the soul enter into a sort of new existence in some
other state*

d2

4ft CONVERTS VROM IKVtDXMTT«

Thk q>iiuon,te was told, urns at b(B8l bfnt fancy
and cw^jectnre, asliecoiildgiyeBOTeaaoiitopvoT^
it true ; neither was it coirect that all the feuiBiii*
brance the soul had of pest tUngs was eecrted in
the matoial organs, and nrast be totally lost Mfaea
these organs were destroyed. The pdnciple of
thovght and percepticm consisted not m figues m
images in tlie brain ; it was a thing (Usenet ham
the body, and not the resok <tf coiporeal oiganiflh>
tion. Some of our ideas were abstract and inde-
pendent of material impressions ; and some vioe%
such as falsehood, malice, and anger, were seatled
in the mind, as the appetites of hunger md ^tdat
were in the body. It Was neither irrational nor
unphilosophical to suppose ^at the soul wouldatiU
retain its consciousness, and continue the unmter*
rupted exercise of its native faculties ; that in anothef
state it should remember as well as think, although
didodged jfrom the body, which served only as a
medium of ac^n,-r-4i mirror in which its iidiMient
qualities were expressed. But it is vain to raise
objections where we have no better foundation than
hypothecs and ooi|jecture ; or abandon one theory
as untenable, because some difficulties may occur ;
since it is as hard to understand how we remem*
her things now, as how we shall do it in another
state of existence.

The result of all these discourses went to extoit
an acknowledgmmit from him, that he had been
directed at least to an eligible source of peace «ad
consolation ; and he c^iten omfessed, that whediar
religion Was tnie or not, he tiiought those who
were persuaded of its truth, and lived so that they
had quiet m their conscience, and believed Crod
governed the worlds and acquiesced in his pxevi*

JUkBL OF EOfBHXSTUU 48

dflnoe,«Bd Ind liie liope of on endless Uessednees
in aaodwr stale, were the happiest men in the
worid ; and said he would give all he was master
ef !• fae vndfit diose persuasions, and to hare the
oomfcit and aopport which necessarily flow fronk
thenu

The whole system of religion, if belieyed, he ad-
raitfeed, was a more secure foundation of happiness
than any other ; for his greatest hope and consolai-
tion, was to think that so good a Being would not
make him nuserable. He did not deny, but that
after oomndtti^ some sins, he felt his conscience
duUenge and reprove him ; but owned that he had
noTemorse or was less sensibly affected after otjiera,
which, perhaps, might be reckoned greater crimesL
These results, he was answered, might flow from
the disorderly state of his life, which had corrupted
his judgment, and deprared his views of thmg^
and thf^ certain immoral habits, by being long
continued and frequently repeated, might hd ren-
dered so familiar as to become a kind of seecmd
nature : in which case it was no wonder if his disr
crimination between good and evil was not very
exact, as a feverii^ man cannot judge correctly c^
tastes. The main root of all corruption in principle
was a dissolute life, which, as it darkened men's
minds, and incapacitated them from discovermg
better things, so it made it necessary for them to
sedk out sndi opinions as might quiet their alarms^
and shelter them from the accusatimis of their own
hearts. And if any by these irregularities have
brought angui^ or disease upon themselves, they
cannotblame Grod for it, or expect that he should by
miracles deliver them from bodily pain or the hor-
rors of a guilty consdeoce. Th]S9tieGOitfeeai^^^r8&

t

M CONVERTS FROM IKFIDELITT.

not to be expected, and it was unreasonabi
to charge God with what was the effect o
choice, or his own folly.

On the subject of religion as reveiEili
Scriptures, he had many oljections to od
said, he could not comprehend the natu
apiration ; nor how God should reveal h
to mankind. The sacred penmen, he
were honest, but credulous writers; ai
Gpmmunicating his mind to one man, ws
in his power to cheat and impose on othc
there i^ould be pretenders to prophecie
racles was not wonderful, since the \k
been always full of strange stories ; for
oess and cunning of deceivers, meeting ^
plicity and credulity among the people, i
absurdity be believed and adopted witl
tradiction. The fall of Adam, and the cc
corruption of hiunan nature ; the incohc
style in the Scriptures ; the odd transi
inconsistencies, chiefly about the order
ike cruelties enjoined the Israelites in d
the Canaanites; circumcision, and ms
rites of the Jewish worship, — -sUL seeme
incredible and unsuitable to the Divin
The Mosaic account of the creation, he
must be a. parable or allegory, otherwise
not be true. This was the substance of
excepted to revealed religion in geners
the Old Testament in particular.

As. a general remark on these vague
tuitous exceptions, the learned prelate
that the bare possibility of artifice and co
was no proof that the Bible is a fable, i
who believe it axe decew^* '^^ ^^^

EARL OF ROCHESTER. 45

npcm the testunany of another in Becnlar mattefs,
where lliere exnts no eanse to snspect the vera-
aty oi that evidence, and more especially if it is
confirmed hy other drcomstances, is not only rea-
sonable, hot forms the criterion by which all the
acts of justice and goremment in the world are
regulated. It follows, therefore, if the credibility
of ity& tiling, the integrity and disinterestedness
of the witnesses, the nnmber of them, and the
most public confirmation that could be given, do all
concur to penmade us of any matter of feet, it is
in Ttiin to say, because it is possible for so many
nun to agree in a lie, that therefore they have
done it. In all other things, a man gives his as-
sent wiiere the credibility is strong on die one side,
toad lliere appears nothing on the other to coun-
teibalance it. Such an overwhelming weight of
evidence goes, for instance, to establish many of
^ Christian miracles which were attested both
by the Jewish and Roman writers that lived at
me tune. These were believed, on the testimony
of the apostles, by the proselytes and followers of
the gospel, many of whom went about to per-
suade the world of these fiacts, though they gained
nothing by their zeal but reproach and sufferings.
Kovtr to avoid all this, by alleging the possibUity
of fraud and contrivance, without advancing a
ringle presimiption to make such a charge appear
probable, is, in oth^ words, to reject all evidence,
and wilfdlly to resist conviction.

To this reasoning, his Lordship objected, that he
yrm not master of Ins own belief ; and if a man says
he cannot believe, what help is there ? He thsras^
fdfhf esvBD when strongest, was but a \itfAMd(^
eptakm; and wbs possoBied wiih a QBDenii ta»

48 COHVXBT8 FBOM IHFIDKUTT

aertum to allege that he oonld not enk «
theae ca|>acitie8 in some men's minda, k
and degree beyond what they are foonc
In this snppofiition there is nothing abanr
dible. And as fmr these inspired mesee
iBg the means pat into their hands, by
anch extraordinary gifts, of deceiTing i
it mnat be allowed that, besides their x
bity and sincerity, Grod migfat so far •
restrain them in delirering his orack
should be oat of their power to make
monication, otherwise than within the
in the eaq^mm terms of their commissiMii
theae persims had the conifirmation of i
dime credentials, to warrant us in belii
they wrote ; and no man can imagine
woqld affix his seal and signature to 8
this were to make Him who is of ]
than to look upon sin, attest what ere
candour and honesty would refuse to sa
That there were difficulties hard to
stood, such as the fall of man, and the
eyil, could not be concealed ; but th
arise perhaps more from our want oi a
mm, than from any thing: extraordinarj
eoontable in the facts th^nsel^es. At
We who cannot frithom the secret coum
Almighty, act very presumptuously in '
on us to reject an excellent system of
holy roles, merely because some parts <
not been explained to our sadsfectioii.
ought to take into account, that the on^
cities of our nature, which might have i
to comprehend many tMn^ that appear
or eontnidk;ticma> axe iiorv fgra^

EARL OF ROCHESTER. 47

pvnctaally predicted, some ages before their com-
(riMon ; not in dark and doubtful language, like
fltttdes, which might bend to OTery accidrait, but
in plam terms. Such was the restoration of the
JewB by Cyrus, who is expressly mentioned by
wmoj thft history of the Syrian and Egyptian
Vtnga,— *hft destruction of Jerusalem, foretold by
Chnst; and various others, where not only the
efents themselves, but the periods at which they
dioiild happen, are stated with all the accuracy of
dironological computation. These considerations,
dicmgfa they amounted to no more than a general
persuasion in the mind, made it at least as reason-
aUe to believe in the Scripture writings, as in any
ether production of antiquity. But when to these
are joined the general design, and the many ex-
eeUent moral roles contained in revelation ; and
llie efifects which result from following these di-
iections, in liberating us from the slavery of appe-
tites and passions, exalting us above the accidents
of Hfe, and difiiising a universal joy and purity of
keart ; these certainly were additional assuranceis'
that the promises of Scripture are true, and that
lliey are accompanied with an internal power and
dffln<mstr8tion, which leaves no room to insinuate
tliat good men are abused by their fancies, or la-
bouring under enthusiastical deceptions ; here we
have historical proofs confirmed by the deductions
of reason, and the results of individual experience.
With regard to the possibility of revelation, it
could not be denied that God might communicate
kb will to his creatures, and that by one method
in preference to another. For as he has given us
eyes tjo see material objects, and a power of ap-
pvehendiag abstract troths, so it waa z, Nve&k «&-

50 CONVERTS FROM INFIDHLITT.

» pro(;eedmg which, as heing enjoined by divine
command, has often excited the ridicule or the dis-
gnst of the infidel, and even perplexed the minds of
sincere Christians. But even from what we know,
whesk circomstances are considered, a little refleo-
^n might serve to abate our indisnotioii and sur-
prise. If it be granted that God, who at first called
them into existence, had a right to take sway thdr
kves, he might have done it by sending toakte or
pestilence among them, as well as by employing the
instrumentality of others ; and had he adopted the
former method, we should never have heard the
proceeding impeached or found fault with ; though
there is not more cruelty or injustice in it than in
the latter : the edge of the sword is even p^haps
a more gentle and merciful visitation, than &e hcnr-
rors of an earthquake, or the lingering and loath-
some contagion of the plague. And for the chil-
dren who might suffer mnocently for their Others
faults, God could in another state, or in some other
Way, re^mpense them for this temporary but un-
avmdable calamity.

The only myst^is, why the Israelites were com-
manded to perform an act that appeared so baiba-
rous : And this will not be so difficult to solve^ if
we consider that this severity was not intiended to be
a precedent for future times, but merely as a signal
and terrible example of divine punishment inflicted
on a wicked and idolatrous people : That the Isme-
lites had special warrant and direction from heaven,
as was manifest to all the world by such mighty
miracles as plainly shewed that they were singled
out and commissioned of God, to be the execu-
tioners of his justice : And that God, by enjoy-
ing them in this service, intended to possees tbw

- EARL OF ROCHSSTBR. 51

vrith a salutary abhorrence of their own besetting
sin of idolatry ; and to give l^m a yisible demoa-
Btration of his extreme displeasure at those prac-
tices which had called down this awfiil and sitm^
mary infliction of his vengeance. All this may
not perhaps amount to a clear solution or vindi-
cation of such transactions, or satisfy a man's
pmosity in every particular ; but this, considering
tlie long interval of time, our ignorance of feu^ts,
aiiid other accidents, will not appear matter of sur-
prise.

. The same remark is applicable to the history of
liie oreation, as related by Moses, though it has
been disputed how far some things in it may be lite-
ral and others allegorical ; yet all must admit, that
there is nothing recorded which may not be his-
toiieally true ; for if angelic or spiritual beings
can assume visible shapes, or form voices in the
air, (which are attested by as good evidence as
any olher historical ficu^ts,) then the speaking ser-
pent may have only been the organ c^ communi-
cation for the evil spirit that deceived Eve ; and
die, being so lately created, might as reasonably
brieve that a reptile, as well as an angel, possessed
the foculty of speech.

But to examine and decide on religion, merely.
ficom some of the dark and mysterious parts of
Scripture, is at best but a very uncandid and un-
just mode of proceeding. Christianity ought to
be consida:ed as a whole ; it should be judged by.
the rules it prescribes \ the tendency of its spirit ;
and the effects it is calculated to produce. No-
thing could be more conducive to the peace, orders
and happiness of the world, and nothing more
firiendly to the interest of every man In \^ardc\ila£\

58 COHVKRTS FKOU INFIDEI.ITT>

dm the precepts it enjoini. Its rales <
brietyi tempenmce and moderation, wen tfa
pnaemn of life, sod what was perhope m<
health and comfort. Nothing was so genera
noble as to forgive injaiies, to assist the Mei
and sii[^ly the needy. Nothing raised and
tajned a man's reputation so much, aa to I
BDd OMTcifiU, kind, charitable, and compaasi
No state erf mind was more desirable than (
temper, a serene conscience, a soul noclond
passion and appetite : and nothing could
societies, &miUe8, and neigfabonrhoods so 1
•a when the benign spirit of the gospel vasal
to eiert and difinae its naUve influence,
modves to obey its ndes, and to cnltivste its
were strong. It set before us the best exai
and engaged us by the most persnasire it
ments to imitate them.

If the tendency of Christianity was 80 ob
, its worship was not less plain and simple
ceremonies were few and significant ; requir
toilsome journeys, no costly Bacrifices, no pe
to be inflicted on the body, no troublesome d
tions of meats and days, and no abBtruse
which priests or philosopherB only can compn
Hie honeety w^ich characterized its fonndi
its first ^MMtles, shewed' there could be n(
fice ; there were no secrets kept only among
of die priesthood, but every thing was open
ita piofesBore ; ita rewards were, indeed, defer
another state, but ita influence waa felt e^
this hfe, fot good men are bleat with peace u
conscience, great joy in the confidence thej
of God'i fitTOor, and of enjoying his preaeni
everf and if calanutwa ^liiM^ bs^i^en, tbf

SARL OF ROCHESTER. 53

80 nliugated by patience, and the inward assis-
.tances with wMch they are furnished, that even
•their crosses and adversities are converted into
blessings.

All these things considered, rendered it highly
improbable that Christianity was a cunningly
• devised fable, or the contrivance of interested
.inpost^rs^ however ingenious. The conduct of
its Author who submitted to poverty and r^roach,
avmded honours and distinctions from men, and
laid down his life in attestation of his doctrine, —
the character of its apostles, who had no preten-
sions either to power or wealth, who delivered
their commissions without reserve^ though they
knew the consequences were to be persecution,
or even torture and death ; and who gave such
public confirmation to the truth of what they
taught by the many wonderful works they pec-
formed, so that vast multitudes were converted,
and embraced doctrines which were opposed to
their interests and their passions, — ^the rapidity
and extent of its propagation in the world, not-
withstanding the power and malignity of its ene-
mies, and the cruelties which for three hundred
-years were employed to suppress and bear it down ;
all these being laid in the one scale, and the few
objections that have been urged against it, put into
the other, it will not be difficult to pronoimce on
which side the balance will incline.

To cavil at exceptions and peculiarities, is not
the fair way to judge of the truth or the tendency
of any system. The proper plan is not to begin
with quibbling about obscure passages, or the pos<-
sibilities of imposture ; but to suiTey the harmony
and contextmre of the whole, and &omtSi!ias& %^tw«c^

£2

54 CONVBRTS FROM INFIDELITY.

▼iew descend to more particiilar inquiriesy witfaonft
suffering the mind to be warped adide by preju-
dices, and forestalled wi^ trivial or imaginary
difficulties.

To the reasonableness of all these statements,
his Lordship seemed in general to assent ; only
he excepted to the belief of mysteries in the
Christian religion, which he thonght an impossi-
bility, — since a man conld not believe what he
does not comprehend, and can form no idea oL
This, he was convinced, had made way for all the
juggling of priests, who imposed on the ignorant
and vulgar what they pleased ; and giving their
absurdities a hard name, calling them mysteries,
credulous people were easily tricked into belief
and acquiescence. The morality of the gospel
appeared to him not less exceptionable, and un-
.worthy the wisdom of a divine legislator. The
restraining a man to one wife, and denying the
temedy of divorce, and prohibiting the free use
of sexual pleasures, he thought were imreason-
able impositions on the natural liberties of man-
kmd. He objected also to the maintenance and
jurisdiction of the clerical order, as a piece of
official contrivance ; and asked, why he must obey
a set of men, who tell him he cannot be saved
without believing things against his reason, and
then pay them liberally for telling him ? These
formed his main objections, and &e substance of
what he had to advance against Christianity.

On the subject of mysteries, he was reminded,

in answer, that in every production or operation

of nature, we had to encounter similar difficulties,

and meet with appearances that we could not ez-

plaiB or account for. TVie iotTnaK.\sf!L oi TOftu and

SA&L OF ROCHESTSR. 55

animalii, — ^ growth of plants^ — the union of
Bonl wad body, — the fieumlties of the mind, how
they commonicste motion and activity to matter ;
these, and a mnltitnde of other wonders, if we
were to posh cariosity into all the intricacies of
feseaidi, would be fomid as daric and incompie-
hransible as any of the mysterious doctrines of
xeligion. The same holds trae with the different
d^iees of knowledge and ci^Mudty among men,-^
the learning of a philosopher is a mystery to a
child or a clown ; and the inventions of modem
times would appear a mystery to those who lived
in the infimcy of society. We cannot compre-
hend, or even conceive, how soul and body should
so unite together, and be mutually affected with
each other's concerns ; or how two principles, so
widely different, both in their nature and opera-
tions, should yet combine in one and the same
person.

As many plausible exceptions, and speculative
arguments might be brought against these things,
which yet every one knows to be true, as against
the Trinity of the Godhead, — ^the incarnation of
Christ, — ^the agency of the Holy Spirit, — ^the re-
sforrection of &e body, or any of the other mys-
teries contained in Scripture. All that can be
said against them is, that they agree not with our
common notions ; though they are not more un-
reasonable or inexplicable than many peculiarities
in other things, which we really beUeve to be,
and yet we are not able to comprehend their
mode and manner of existence ; so that this ought
to be no just cause, provided we have other solid
grounds of belief, why our reason shoidd not sub-
mit to what we cannot well conceive. It cssoiss^

56 CONVERTS FROM INFIDB£.ITY

be concealed, and is rather to be regsetted, ^dwt
these doctrines have had defend^v of moi^e .aeal
than judgment, who have darkened cofiinfld by
words without knowledge. They have been sup-
ported by weak arguments, illustrated by :iii^
and impertinent similies, and peq)lexed by an over-
strained and injudicious nicety of intefpretadon.
The opposition of ancient heretica gave rise to
much curious and unprofitable speculation amofig
the Fathers, who, in pursuing the arguments <^
their antagonists, were often lost in the mazes of
their own fanciful commentaries. Critics and
schoolmen, in later times, have refined upon their
subtleties ; and the aid of superstition has been
called in to enforce, as articles of belief, exposi-
tions of these mysteries, which not only do vio-
lence to our reason, but contradict the testimony
of our senses.

In this manner the simplicity of Scripture has
been corrupted, while its acknowledged difficulties
have been rendered more complicated and incre^
dible. Even from the plainest language, the most
absurd inferences have been drawn,— that a mcursel
of bread, or a drop of wine are actually, by the
magic of words, converted into flesh and blood ;
and this every Christian has been bound to believe
under pain of damnation, however much his eyes
or his understanding may revolt against the cre-
dibility of what his senses tell him, must either be
a daily miracle or a daily imposition. These
things are certainly to be lamented ; but such
perversions can be no argument for not receiving
mysteries which are expressly and distinctly re-
corded in Scripture ; and it is no just ground for
rejecting them totaUy, that we cannot form an ex-

XABL OF ROCMESTEB* 57

^kit notion of Aem, or satisfy our mindi in ererf
particiilar. Many sudi things we believe in Im-
man afiairs, which are more within our reach ; and
it must be very unreasonable to refuse our assent in^
diyine things, which are much more above our
comprehension.

Ajs to the restraints and limitations imposed on
the sexual appetite, these can never be alleged as
accusations of severity or injustice. They might
be defended even on the common right which all
legislators claim of prescribing laws for the govenif*
ment of their subjects ; and it would be hard to deny
to the Supreme Lawgiver a privilege wbidi Idnga
and infmor uden dally exercise ; who, when they
find the liberties their people take, prove dangerous
or hurtful, set such bounds, and make such regu*
lations, as they judge necessary and expedient*
Unrestrained passion, it cannot be denied, is one
oS those mischiefs that prove injurious to society,,
and must be checked. No one will dispute the
propriety of defending men's lives and properties
against the aggressions of lawless violence,— or
that adequate means must be employed to fortify
and secure them ; and if it be admowledged thi^
men have a property in their wives and daughters^
to seduce the one, or corrupt the other, must be
reprobated and cmidemned as unjust and injn*
rious. And it is certain that these consequences
will ensue, that the ties and distinctions of nature
will be broken, unless men carefully govern and
controul their vagrant i^petites. Hence the ex«
treme wisdom and benevolent policy of those re-
strictions, which the Founder of Christianity has
imposed on the unrestrained indulgence oi carnal
desires^ — as he well knew that nothing ocra^si %a

5d CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY.

^fectually deliver the world from their mischief
YOiis effects, as the sidutary injunctions and Hmi-
tations which he has prescribed. To interfere with
a man*8 personal liberty, or cnib him in the gra-
tification of his desires, may seem, in the abstract,
an unwarrantable violation of equity and nature ;
but if we balance the advantages of such a firee^
dom, with the injuries and inconveniences whidt
result from it, — ^the limits prescnbed by human,
as well as divine laws, will not appear unjust or
unnatural restrictions.

But besides, the due confinement of these
libertine propensities is not less beneficial to the
individual, than advantageous to the peace of
fieanilies, and the welfare of society. iAGrtb,
frolic, or pleasure, and those often but of a pre-
carious and momentary kind, are all that the
disciples of licentiousness can promise them-
selves. And at how great an expense, both ta
themselves and others, are these generally pur-
chased ! How many waste their strength and dieir
constitution by the indulgence of inordinate plei^
sure&; they bring on premature old age, and loath-
some diseases on their bodies, which are often
disfigm^d by their intemperance and debaucheries;
and what is still worse, they often entail infection
and debility on th»r innocent but unhM>py off>
spring, who sujQGer for their excesses. Iney im-
pair their fortunes and estates, which are squaor
dered away in prodigal expenses, or ruined by
neglect; they forf^t th^ credit and reputation
by the base expedients, — the criminal resources,— r
tiie many false and impious promises they are
forced to employ in compassing their lawless de»

EARL OF ROCHESTER. 59

■ N<if do they suffer less in the noble powers
and facilities of their minds^ which sink and de-
^fsaenXe by their vices, into a state of stupid in-
capacity that wholly un£t8 them for business, and
e¥^ indisposes them to think. Or if they are ca-
pable of reflection, it is only to endure horror and
anguish, whidb they can &id no means of miti-
gating or aroiding, except by plunging deeper in
dissipation, or taking sanctuary in atheistical prin-
ciples. If to all these be added, the peace and
harmony of families destroyed, — ^the ties of nature
and affection broken, — ^the laws of honour and
virtue transgressed, — and the brutal confusion in*
troduced into society, it will not appear that the
vestraints, which on the one hand protect and se-
cure so many valuable blessings, and on the other,
d^ver the world from so many miseries, can be
deemed severe or unnecessary prohibitions.

As for polygamy, many reasons opposed it ; it
occasioned perpetual quarrelings and jealousies
among the wives of the same individual; it de-
bases and degrades them from their original sta-
tion, as helpful companions, into mere instruments
of sensual pleasure ; it distracts, or rather annihi- .
lates the affections of the husband; it leads. to
neglect, or partial treatment of children ; and it
appears to violate the arrangements of nature, and
the design of the Deity, who created only one
pair at f^st, and by preserving so near an equality
between the two sexes, seems to intimate that Uie
same practice was intended to continue. This
plurality, therefore, is contrary to the original in-?
stitution of marriage, |us well as tiie example of the
earliest patriarchs. It was introduced when men
d^enerated from the primitive state of manners ;

00 CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY.

and thongh pmctised by the Jews, bodi before and
under the law of Moses, it may be doubted how
far It had the sanction of cdvine approbation, as
the passages where it is mentioned are of equi-
vocal import ; or if there was such a permissioii,
it mighty like that of diTorce, be granted be-
cause ^ of the hardness of their hearts f or for
some temporary purpose, rather than firom any
rectitude or propriety in the thing itself. Conse-
quendy the marriages of the patriardls, recorded
in Scripture, like their vices and imp^iections, are
no evidence that the custom was lawful, or in-
tended to be general and permanent. In the times
of the New Testament, the Jewish manners had
undergone a reformation in this respect, as we
meet with no trace or mention there of any such
practice being tolerated. Upon the whole mattor
then, it was very apparent that those indulgmioes^
for wMch libertines plead, are directly opposed
to the best interests of mankind, both socud and
individual ; and the author of l^e Christian law,
1^0 knew the nature of man, has wisely set
bovnds to those extravagant liberties, as the only
safeguard, and most effectual means ofpromotiDg
both public and private happmess. Ine con<fi-
tions and requirements annexed to this tow, were
not in themselves agreeable to our perverse ior
clinations ; but iffolh>wed, they brought an abuifr-
dant recompense both here and hereafter ; and it
was but fair, that he who bestowed higk rewards,
^ould have the ri^ to exact dlffiodt petfbr-'
manoes.

Here his Lordsfaq^ iateiposed some doubts,
whether the premises waxianted the conchnkm.
He adsikted that the terms were difficult, fant

BABL OF AOCHESTEIL 61

Beemed Bcepticalaa to the cettaiitty of the rewards.
Upon ihiB he was told that we had the same assu-
mice of iatiire rewards that we have of any other
parts of Christianity. We have the promises of
Grod made to us in Christ, and confirmed hy mi-
nMdeB ; and we have an earnest of them in the
peace and satisfiEustion which follow a good ccm^
tcienee* Tlie reward is abundantly sure, and
AeK» IB no reason it should he given us before the
eonditionB are performed oa which it is promised.
The difficulties were not greats than those we
daily encounter m the most ordinary concerns of
fife, anch as learning a common trade or profes-
SHMi^ wfaidbi sometimes requires years of study and
expenae. Besides, the pains and uneasiness wo
§f^ wero rather the effect of our corrupt naturei
duBB any excessive severity in the injunctions of
Oiristianity, which graduiJly became mere tole-
rable, aa our vicious habits were subdued and re«
laiquished.

Another argument or apology which his Lord-
Aap m^ged m defence oi his irregalanties, was the
misconduct of Christians themsekes, whidi he said
kd given him and many others great encourage-
ment to continue in their iniquities. £vei» the
clergy, who midertook to be the guides and instmc-
pan oi othora, often acted so as to make it difficult
to think ihmr beUef was any^ thing else tlian a so*
linnn preteaeew Their ambiHon in aspiring after
eourt £ftvour, and the servile ends they took to at*
«sin it, aa well as the divimons and animositieB
lottong themselves about trifles, made him suspect
that reUqgion was a n^re tric^ and the things could
not be true, which, in their sermoDB and discourse^
they so eacnestly recommeaded. Othera who pra^

62 CONVIBRTS FROM INFIDELITY.

tended to believe, lived so inconsistently wilJi tlieir
profession, that no man could persuade himself
they were serious, or had any principle of retigioa
about them.

In answer to these excuses of himself, he was re-
minded that even the best men, through infirmity
or temptation, may be overcome and betrayed into
sins, which prove a source of grief to them all their
life after ; but it was not a just inference, from the
ftdlings of a few, to conclude that all ChristiaBs
are hypocrites, <h* that all region is a cheat. Many
of the charges brought against believers were mis-
takes and calunmies, though it coidd not be denied
that some of them were too true. But at ati events
/' it was unreasomdile to make the faults of others a
' * plea or vindication for himself. Among the clergy,
it was to be lamented, that some did not live suit-
ably to their holy functions, or to the sacred obli-
gations imposed on them by their profession ; yet
as a body, there were many of them who gave vi-
sible demonstrations of the power which religion
had over them, in their contempt of the world, the
strictness of their lives, their readiness to forgive
injuries, to relieve the poor, and to do good on all
occasions. As for their authority, if they sla^tched
that too far, the gospel did plainly reprove them
for it. They were only an o^ier of men dedicated
to God, to attend to his ordinances, and preserve
the knowledge and remembrance of him among
men. It was necessary therefore that they should be
respected, and have a fit maintenance app<Hnted for
them, so that they might be preserved ftom the
contempt that follows poverty, and the distractions
which the providing against it might otherwise in-
rolre them in. And if some of them, either

EARL OF ROCHESTER. 63

through ambition or covetousness, used indirect
or CTiminal means for attaining dignities and prel
ferments ; and when possessed of them, did either
accumulate fortmies, or apply their wealth to
luxury and vain pomp, these were personal failings
in wmch the gospel was not concerned, and which
4;ould reflect no reproach or discredit on it, as k \\
expressly censured and condemned them. " •/

~ ^Snch is a summary yiew of the chief arguments
and objections which formed the topic of discourse
^&a both sides. Every doubt and difficulty which
liis Lordship had to urge against religion, pointed
with all the force and eSect his wit could give ; and
every sophistical evasion that could defend or em^
bolden hnn in his vices, were faithfully recorded by
his candid and venerable \isitor. The substance, and
in general the words of these memorable conversa-
tions, are here presented to the reader. The answers
and refutations might perhaps in seme cases have
been extended or illustrated at greater length ; but
lids has been avoided, as it seemed an unjustifiable
liberty, both with the subject and the author, to
give nis arguments any additions, or clothe them
in other language than he himself chose to express
them. The result of the whole was such as might
have been anticipated, and made a most ^utary
impression on the noble penitent. Driven by de-
grees and with reluctance from every strong-hold*
he saw those sophistries within which he had en-
trenched and forced himself, to be but a refuge of
lies. His most rooted prejudices yielded and gave
way before the irresistible energy of truth. Con-
viction won upon him at every stage of the dis-
cussion, and reached his conscience in spite of
all his reasonings, and contrary to his strongest ia<^

M CONVERTS FROM IKFIDELITT.

dinations. When the scales of eiror were re-
moTed, moral objects assumed a new character,
and appeared even to change their nature. He
was convinced, he said, that vice and irreligion
were as contrary and injurious to hmnaa society,
as wild beasts let loose would be ; and that ther^
foire he was firmly resolved to alter iJie whfAb
course of his life, to become strictly just and tnte^
to be chaste and temperate, to forbear swearing
and pro£ane discourse, to worship and pray to his
Maker ; and that though he was not arrived at a
full persuasion of Christianity, he woeld never
employ his vsrit more to run it down, or to corrupt
others. In these good resolutions he was encou-
raged by his worthy friend, who assured him that
a virtuous life would no longer appear a etniggle
and a constraint, when vicious inclinations were
removed ; and that if his mind was once cleared of
its erroneous principles, and freed from the drnni-
nion of those habits that obscured and distempered
it, he would soon see through all the sophistnee of
wit and atheism, which had only the fsdse glitter-
ing of argument, and could mislead none but men
of weak understanding, who have not capacitjr or
discernment to penetrate deeper than the mere sur-
face of things.

The preceding conversations took place in Lon^
don, before his Lordship quitted it for his resi*
dence at Woodstock Pane, neariy four mon^ prior
to his death. The hand of God had now visibly
touched him. For some weeks he suffered extreme
pain in his body, the violent motion of travelling
having increased his disorder, so that he conchideS
his recovery to be almost hopeless. But the sense
ofbie bodily tortures was not so keen and ezcnh

IBARL or. ROCHESTER. 6$

clating as the agonies of his mind, which was not
mepely- clouded and depressed as formerly in hig
intervals of melancholy, hut wounded with th«
most Qcute and poignant sorrow ; for though he
was not yet illuminated with clear or comprehend
nve views of religion, he looked hack on his past
life with hitter rememhrance, and ccm^sed thai;
all the pleasures of sin he had ever known, were
not worthy to he named in comparison with the
anguish of spirit he felt on their account. He
eionsidered that he had not only neglected and dis-
honoured, hut openly defied his Creator ; and drawn
many others hy his ccmversation and example into
nmilar impieties ; and he now set himself wholly
to turn to God with imfeigned repentance^ and
to do all in his power, during the little remainder
of his existence on earth, to redeem those years
which he had so ill employed in folly and profanity.
Several clergymen visited him every week of his
sickness, among whom were the Bishop of Oxford^
Mr Parsons, his mother s chaplain, and Dr Mar-
shall, the learned Rector of Lincoln College.
From the excellent advices of these pious atten-
dants, he received that direction and support which
his present circumstances rendered necessary. The
storm and perturbation of his mind gi-adually sub-
sided ; the labouring spirit broke from under its
cloud of apprehension ; and the ammating hope
of the gospel, like the clear shining after rain, dif-
fused over every dark spot of his anticipations,
the brightness of a pure and calm serenity. He
became fully persuaded both of the truth of Cluis-
tianity and of the power of inwaid grace, and cast
himself entirely on the merits of the Redeemer^
for obtaining mercy and forgiveness*

f2

M CONVERTS VROM IKVIDCLITT*

Que Immediato cause to which he McHbed Ui
eonnction, was the fifiy third chapter of Iniafa^
which Mr Parsons read to him. By c<Na^ariiig that
with the history of Christ's advent and cnicifixioii»
^ coincidence appeared so strange, the fiiots ae»
corded so exactly with theprophecy, though written
many ages before, that he felt the tmth forced upon
him with apower of demcmstration that he coidd not
resist. The meanness of the Saviour's appeaivnce^
the disparagement and rejection he was to euSetf
the manner of his death, and the opposition to his
gospel, were delineated with such minuteness and
fiddity as if the inspired prophet had been an eye-
witness of the scene, and recorded what he saw in
a narratiye, rather than uttered a prediction coa*
ceming it at the distance of 400 years.

He had caused the chapter to be read to him se
often, both by his lady and his mother, who attended
him in his illness with all possible tenderness,
that he had got it completely by heart, and was in
the habit of repeating and making reflections imon
it, in a sort of transport of heavenly delight. The
words, he remarked, carried an authority with them,
which shot like rays of light into his mind, so that
his understanding was not only satisfied and con^
vinced, but by en inward power, so effectually
constrained, that he ever after as firmly believed
in the Saviour, as if he had seen him in the clouds.
He had strong persuasions of being admitted to
happiness in heaven, of which he sometimes sp<^e
with extraordinary emotion. He received the
sacrament with great satis^M^on, a pleasure which
was not a little increased, by partaking of it widi
his affectionate lady, who had been for some years
misled, partly through ibe Vnsi^xinfMiQStaEtY of her

MARL OF ROCHBSTBR. 67

fansboidy into liie commmkion of the Romiah
CSmrdbu

About a mondi before bis death, be wrote to
Dr Burnet, wisbing a renewal of tbose TisitB
wbicb bad abready proved so beneficial to bim.
Tlie lett^ is expressed with ell the humility of
true penitence, and may be regarded as no nn-
eqoivocal evidence of the salutary change that had
taken place since their late interview.

<< Woodstock Park, Oxfbrtbliire.

^ My most honoured Dr Burnet,

^ My spirits and body decay so equally toge^w,
that I shall write you a letter, as weak as I am in
person. I b^in to value churchmen above afl
men in the world, &c. If God be yet pleased to
spare me longer in this world, I hope in your con-
versation to be exalted to that degree of piety,
that the world may see bow much I abhor what
I so long loved, and how much I glory in repen-
tance and in Grod's service. Bestow your prayer^
upon me, that God would spare me, (if it be his good
will,) to shew a true repentance and amendment
of life for the time to come : or else, if the Lord
pleasetb to put an end to my worldly being now^
that he would mercifully accept of my death-bed
repentance, and perform that promise that hehalii
been pleased to make, that, at what time soever a
sinner doth repent, he woidd receive him. Put
m> these prayers, most dear doctor, to Almighty
God^ for

« Yours, &c

« ROCHBSTER.

66 CONVERTS PROM INFIDELITY.

The intercourse renewed in consequence of thik
letter, was mutually acceptable. His Lordshq^
received Ins friend with transpbrt, and uttered many
tender expressions concerning his kindness in com'r
ipg so^ far to see him. He told him all that had
occurred, of his fears, his convictions, and his
hopes ; spoke of his conversion to God in terms of
joy and confidence, and said, he now found his
mind possessed of far other views and thougihts
than it had formerly been. He said he had over-
come all feelings of resentment against others, and*
bore no ill-wiU, and no personsd hatred to any
man : He had given a true account of his debts,
and ordered them all to be paid : He professed he
was contented either to die or live as should please
God, and though it was a foolish thing for a man
to pretend to choose, yet he wished rather to die,
as he was confident he should be happy, but feared
if he lived he might relapse: He was resolved^
however, through Divine grace, to avoid Aose
temptations, and that course of life and company
which might again ensnare him ; and he desired to
live on no- other account, but that he might, by the
change of his manners, remove, as far as possible,
the scandal his former behaviour had given* He
would sometimes form schemes, in the probability
of his recovery, by which he meant to reg^ulate
himself in future, and was pleased to think how re-
tired and studious and exemplary a life he would
lead ; but these speculations were soon dissipated,
when the paroxysms of his distemper returned.

He manifested some anxiety to have the opinion
of his Mend as to the efiicacy and acceptance of a
death-bed repentance. Upon which he was infram-
edf that all depended on the reality and sincerity of

EARL OF ROCHESTER. 69

the dumge ; that tfais was the indispeiiisablis cimdition
upcm wluch the promises of the gospel were made ;
that though it was difficult to ascertain the genuine-
ness of our penitence, unless it appeared in our
liyes, and there was reason to fear uiat the repent-
ance of most dying men, like the howlings of conr
demned priscm^^ flowed more from a dread of
their approaching fate, than from any remcvse or
sonow for thdr crimes ; yet certainly if the mind
of a sinner, eren on his ^eath-hed, he truly renewed
and turned to God, so abundant are his compas-
sion and his tenda: mercy, that eren in that ex-
tremity he is wilting to xeceire iiim. But tibatthia
co«id be no warrant or encouragement to confirm
any in their imquities, or in the^mreasonable Teso«
lution of deferring thor repentance till ^ey cm.
em no longer, from the hope of at last obtaining
m^rcy.

Sudi an inference would be as injurioos as
it was unjust ; for whatever mercy God may shew
to those who hare never felt compunction tOl they
are overtaken with sickness nntodeadi; this was no
reason to presume ihat those who have dealt bo
dinngenuonsly wilh God and their own souls, as
to delay thdr repentance with such a design, dumld
tiben4)e accepted of him. Theymay^esuddenlyy
or by a disease that may impair or destroy all ca-
pacity for reflection or amendment. No man's con-
version is so far in his own power, that.it can be
effiBCted without the assistance of Divine grace ;
and tiiey who have all their lives neglected or re-
dsted endi aid, can hardly eroect it in so extra-
ordinary a BMmner at their death. Such c<»iduct k
not only presumptuous in itself, but it is to rifslE
the lugfaest and greatest concerns we hayQ> "OD^oa

I

70 CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY.

the most dangerous and desperate issue possible-;
and though it became not human weakness ta
limit the grace of God^ yet there was every cause to
doubt of a repentance begun and kept up under
such delusion. Signal instances had occuired of
late conversions brought about by very remarkable
means ; but it is a pernicious confidence in any to
proceed in their evil ways, in the expectation that
Grod will in the same way work a miracle for their
restoration. These rare and singular examples were
beyond the ordinary methods of divine mercy ; an4
though they do sometimes happen, that lliey may
^ve an effectual alarm for awakening others ; yet
k would destroy the whole design of religion, ii
men should reckon and depend to the last, ob
such an extraordinary and forcible operation d
God's grace.

These views appeared^ to his LordsMp .e<»Ted
and satisfactory, and encouraged him to hope thai
though his life had been too much devoted to the
service of sin, — ^though he had too long resisted
all the means of conviction, and abused the pa-
tience and longHSuffering of God, yet he no^
looked back upon his former ways with abhor-
rence and detestation. He was certain, he said)
that his mind was aitii'ely changed ; and though
terror had at first awakened him to a sense of &e
danger, yet his repentance was now settled on the
sure basis of faith and conviction. And though he
did not live to put his resolutions of am^dmeat
to the test, or give to the world evidence of his
sincerity, by the practice of virtue and holinesiy
yet his repentance was accompanied with snch
symptoms as could leave no room for doubts jor
suspicions as to its reality. Every word and ao-

EARL OF ROCHESTER. 71

&(m bore testimony to his unfeigned penitence.
hk none of his other sicknesses had he ever expe-
rienced the same happy effects, or formed the same
determinations. He had sometimes vagne dioughts
and transient desires to reform, but this was solely
to escape the troubles and inconveniences which
bis vices occasioned him. But he now saw them
m a different light ; and often expressed a hope
that if he were yet spared a longer time, he should
faring gkny to ^be name of God, by a new course
of life, and particularly by his endeavours to con-
vince others, — ^to assure ihem of the danger of
their condition, if diey continued impenitent, —
imd to reclaim them from their errors. ** I would
not commit the least sin to gain a kingdom," was
the solemn declaration he frequently made to his
attendants ; and he would exhort them earnestly
to fear God, — ^to be reconciled to him in Christ,-—
and break off their sins while there was space for
pardon.

To a gentleman of his acquuntance, Mr Fan-
ehaw, who paid him a visit, he addressed himself
in the following strain of pious expostulation : << Q
remember that you contemn God no more ; he is
an avenging -God, 'and will visit you fnr your sins.
He will, in mercy I h<^e, touch your conscience,
sooner or later, as lie has done mine. You and I
have been fri^ids and sinners together a great
while, llierefore I am the more ^ee with you.
We have aU been mistaken in our conceits and
c^inions; our persuasions have been &lse ai^d
groundless ; therefore God grant you repentance.
Perhaps you may be disobliged by my plainness,
but I 8pc»k the words of tru& and soberness^ and
I hope God will touch your heart."

7% COHVBRTS FROM tNFIOBLITY.

To his serraats, md to aU alKmt him* he aliew^
a remavkalde tendemeas and concemt pityiag
dieir tronblea in watching and attoadiiig hmv Md
treating them with kindness and civilit3r» as if thay
had b^ hoB equals. They heard neoo of that
cursing, railing, or re^Kroaching, which .<oii other
occasions had been their. usual entertammentt , If
he had even, in the extremity of paiD* ofinoed^lte
least fretfukess or impatience, or q^ken a haatry
word to the meanest of them, ho would imwo
diately beg pardon. The hal»t of aweanog^ a
▼ice fnm winch, on the slightest pi:o?oeai|iQ% he
could scarcely ha^e reframed for three wrdumea,
he con^letely conquered by a OGoustant and reso-
lute watchfulness*

Being offended <m^ ^ome occasion, at the deli^
or negligwAoe of one of hia attendants, he said
with some warmth, ^ that damned f^w^" hut
instantly checking himself he exclaimed^ ^.Q^
that language of friends, whidb was so fiuniMav to^
me, hangs yet about me ; sure nonehaTe deserved
taiore to be damned than I have done." And
after having humbly asked pardon of God for lt»
he desired the servant to be called back^ that h»
might ask his forgiveness. He professed his lean-
ness- to foigive aU the injuries ever any had done
hkn, and to make restitution to the utmoat of hia

power, to tiioeeiHiom he had wimiged or offioidedi
He would oftcoi call bis diifahnen intohia preaeooei.
and i^eak to ihem^widi iaennre8s3»le toodomaas,.
Messing them in the name of Go^-^^trpyiag far
than,— and recommending them to his protactloik
'^ Look on them all)^ he once said to Dr Bometr
^ and see how good Grod has been to me^ in giv*
ing me so many Ueasings^ and I faavacaniediiqf!'

EARL OF -ROCHESTSIU 7$

self to him, like an imgracioiis and nntliankfiil
dog." He gave earnest charges fw their pious
edn€atioA,--^wishing that his son might never he a
wit ; one of those wretched creatores, (as he him-
self explained it,) who pride themselves in ahusing
God and religions-denying his existence or his
{Mt>vidence ; but that he might become an honest
and religious man, which would be the best sup-
port of his fiEunily, and preferable to all fortnno
and honours.

' Of his own manner of life he discouned fre^
quently, and without reserve ; accusing himself
publicly for his vices and impieties, and speaking
of them in terms of the most unqualified abhor-
rence. He regarded himself as the vilest wretch
HxBLt ever the sun shone upon ; wished rather that
he had been a reptile crawling in a ditch, or a beg-
gar, or confined for his whole life to a dungeon,
than have so dishonoured and offended his Maker.
<> O blessed God,'* he would cry, ^ can such a
horrid creature as I am be accepted of thee, who
has denied thy being, and contemned thy power ?
Can there be mercy and pardon for me ? Shall
the unspeakable joys of heaven be conferred on
such a wretch? O mighty Saviour, never but
through thine infinite love and satisfaction ! O
never, but by the purchase of thy blood 1" The
mercy and free grace of God, offered through Jesus
Christ to returning sinners, was now the only hope,
and anchor of his soul, on which he cast himself
implicitly with all the confidence of faith, and all
the fervour of devotion. He had abandoned that
absurd and foolish philosophy which the world
BO much admired ; and embraced, after the most

VOL. I. G

74 CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY.

calm and irresistible conviction, the articles and
mysteries of the Christian religion.

The more he read and mechtated on the Holy
Scriptures, the more their beauty and excellency
appeared, and the greater his admiration and esteem
grew for them. Haying once received the truth in
file loye of it, all the seeming absurdities and contra-
dictions in them, he found to be but the malignant
fancies of men of corrupt and reprobate judgments,
which vanished when approached by &e light of
reason and investigation. He was not only a be-
liever, but a bold advocate for piety and virtue ; and
argued as strongly in their fovour, as he had ever
before done agunst them. And to obUterste^ as
far as possible, ev^ memorial of his guilt, to re«
move every object that might serve as temptalioiia
and incitements to others, he gave strict injunctiooB
to those persons in whose custody his papers were,
to bum all his pro&ne and lewd writings, all his oh*
scene and scandalous pictures, as fit only to pro-
mote vice and inmuffality. He likew&e com-
manded his friends, who were the witnesses of his
penitence and confessions, to publish them freely
and undisguisedly to the world. He wished every
thing concerning him to be made known ; the worst
as well as the best and last parts of his life to be
laid open, if it could be of use to the living, or
contribute to the reformation of a loose and diisso-
lute age. He was not imwiUing to take shame to
himseU; by allowing his faults to be exposed for
the benefit of others, if such an example might be
a means of reclaiming them ; and he often prayed
to God, that as his life had done much hurt, so his
death might do some good.

The time which the preceding transactions ocfcu-

EARL OF ROCHESTER. 76

pied, was exactly nine weeks. During iJie whole
course of his sickness, the temper of his mind was
uniformly steady, so that no difference or appear*
ances of decay wwe perceptible, except in the weak-
ness of his body. He could not converse long
without ftktigue; though occasionally he talked
with extraordinary vivacity, and discoursed of com-
mon a£b]Ts at considerable length, with as much
deamess of Uiought and expression as he had ever
done. Tliese facts, taken in conjunction with the
details nairated above^ furnish evidence quite sa*
tis&ctory as to the nature and authenticity of his
repentance ; that it could not possibly be the effect
of disease^ nw the result of melancholy, or lowness
of spirits, nor of an impaired and dis<ndered state
of the faculties. Ncme of these causes will in the
most remote degree account for the remarkable
change which he manifested both in his sentiments
and conversation.

" All the time of his illness," says Mr Parsons,
^' he was so much master of his reason, and had so
clear an understanding, (save thirty hours about
the middle of it, in which he was aelirious), that
he never dictated or spoke rnGre composed in hia-
life ; and therefore if any shall continue to say his
piety was the effect of madness or vapours, let me
tell them it is highly disingenuous, and that the as^
sertion is as silly as it is wicked. And, moreover^
that the force of what I have delivered may not
be evaded by wicked men^ who are resolved to
harden their hearts in spite of all convictions, and
say this was done in a corner^ I appeal for the
truth thereof to all sorts of persons, who in con-
siderable numbers visited and attended him ; and
more particularly to those eminent physicians who

76 CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY.

were near him, and conversant with him in the
whole course of his tedious sickness, and who, if
any, are competent judges of a frenzy or delirium.'*

Dr Burnet's words are to the same effect ; and he
mentions also in his history his firm helief that he
had hecome so entirely changed, that if he had re-
covered, he would have made good all his Fesolu-
tions. *^ That this nohle Lwd,'* heohserres, ^ was
either mad or stupid,, is a thing so notoriously
untrue, that it is the highest impudence for any
to report it, and a very unreasonahle drednHty kt
others to helieve it. All the white I was with*'
him he was not only without ravings, but had s
clearness in his th«mght8, in his memory, .ad in
his reflections, beyond what I ever saw in a person-
so low in strength. Such reports are raised by
those who are unwilling that the last thoughts or
words of a person every way so extraordinary,
should have any effect either on themselves or-
others ; and it is to be feared that some have so
far seared their consciences, and exceeded the com«
mon measures of sin and infidelity, that neither
this testimony, nor one rising from the dead, would*
signify much towards theii* conviction."

To the testimony of these two divines, various
others might be subjoined from private letters and
documents of imquestionable authority. The fol-
lowing is a c(^y of a letter from his Lordship to
Dr J. Pierce, President of Magdalen College,
Oxford, and afterwards Dean of Sarum ; and'
though it may contain some expressions more-
poetical, perhaps, than evangelical, if strictly cri-
ticised, yet it presents a lively image of a sincere
penitenl^ touched with conscious guilt, and resolved '
to turn from the error o( Vor vre.^

£ARL OF ROCHESTER. 77

^ <^ My mdisposition renders my intellectuals al-
most ce feeble as my person ; but considering the
eandbur and extreme charity your natural mildnesa
baa always ahewn me, I am assured at once both
of a fiftyoiirable construction of my present lines,
ivhidi can but faintly express the sorrowful cha-
racter of a humble and afflicted mmd, and all
tboae great comforts your inexhaustible good-
ness, learning, and piety, plenteously afford to the
drooping spirits of poor sinners ; so .that I may
lanily si^y, Holy man ! to you I owe what conso-
^tion I enjoy, in urging God's mercies against
despair, and holding me up under the weight of
those high and mountainous sins, my wicked and
ungOTernable Ufe hath heaped upon me. If God
shall be pleased to spare me a little longer here,
I have unalterably resolved to become a new man ;
and to wash out the stain of my lewd courses with
Ojw tears,, and to weep over the profane and un-
hallowed abomination of my former doings ; that
the world may see how I loathe sin, and abhor
the very remembrance of those tainted and un-
diean joys I once delighted in ; these being, as the
apostle tells us, the things < whereof I am now
ashamed. Or if it be hi^ great pleasure now to
put a period to my days, that he will accept of
my last gasp, that the smoke of my death-bed of-
fering, may not be unsavoury to his nostrils, and he
drive me like Cain from before his presence. Pray
for me, dear Doctor ; and all you that forget not
God, pray for me fervently ; take heaven by
force, and let me enter with you in disguise ; for I
dare not appear before the cbread Majesty of that
Holy One I have so often offended. Warn all
my friends and companions to a true and sincere

g2

78 CONVERTS VROM INFIDELITY.

repentmce whik it is called to-day, before
day come, and they be no more. Let them kaoMr
that sin is like the angel's book in the ReyelMm^
it is sweet in the month, but bitter in the belly*
Let them know that God will not be mocked^
that he is an holy God, and will be serFed in hoU^
nesS and purity ; that he requires the whole mat^
and the early man. Bid them make haste, for -fiha
night Cometh when no man can wor]& . O tlwtf
they were wise, that they would consider this ; aad!
not with me, with wretched me, delay k wuil^
their latter end ! Pray, Dear Sir, 'eonti|l^ally^
pray for your poor friend,

Rochester^

Sutiger*t Lodge fn Vocdstoek Park, >
July 1680. i

There is another letter, published from the
Manuscripts in the Harleian Library, givmg an ac^
count of his interview with Mr Fanshaw, which
goes to corroborate the preceding testimomes, and
of which the following is an extract t— ^

" "When Wilmot Lord Rochester lay on his'
death-bed, Mr. Fanshaw came to visit Iuhi, wkh
an intention to stay about a week with him. Mr
Fanshaw, sittbg by the bedside, perceived his
lordship praying to God through Jestjs Christ ;
and acquainted Dr Radcliffe (who attended my
Lord Rochester in this illness, and was then ia the
house) with what he had heard ; and told him ihat
my lord was certainly delirious, for to his knoww.
ledge (he said) he believed neither in God nor '
Jesus Cbmt, The doctor (who had often heard him

SARL OF ROdHEStElt. 79

pnf in the same manner) proposed to Mr Fan-
dbawto go up to his lordfliiip, to be further satisfied
toadung this afiieur. When they came to his room
iskb doctor told my lord what Mr Fanshaw said ;
«Hm which his lordship addressed himself to Mr
Inlnshaw to this efiect : — * Sir, it is true yon and
I have been very lewd and profieme together, and
then I was of the opinion yon mention ; but now
I am quite of another mind, and happy am I that
I «n so. I am very sensible how miserable I was
flliilst of another opinion Sir, you may assure
yoorBelf that there is a Judge and a future state :'
And so he entered into a very handsome discourse
concerning the last judgment, future state, &&,
and concluded with a serious and pathetic exhor-
tation to Mr Fanshaw to enter into another course
of life ; adding, that he (Mr Fanshaw) knew him
to be his friend ; that he never was more so than
at this time : ^ And, Sir, (said he,) to use a Scrip-
ture expression, I am not mad, but speak the iirorda ^
of truth and soberness,*"

His owndymgr^nonstrance, which he drew up
only a few days before he expired, may be here
transcribed as a further confirmation of the point'
in qnestiim. It was signed by his own hand, and
attMted by sufficioit witnesses.

** For the benefit of all those whom I may have
drawn into sin by my example and encouragement^
I leave to ihe world this my last declaration, which
I deliver in the presence of the great God, who
knows the secrets of all hearts, and before whom
I am now appearing to be judged.

^•That, from the bottom of my «qi^\ ^^^XmX

80 CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY.

and abhor the whole coinne of my fonoiw wicked
life; that I think I can never simciently admire,
the goodness of God, who has given me a true
sense of my pernicious opinions and vile practices,
by which I have hitherto lived without nope and
without Grod in the world; have been an opc^
enemy to Jesus Christ, doing the utmost despite
to the Holy Spirit of Grace. And that the great^ .
testimony of my charity to such is, to warn tjiem, in,
the name of God, and as they regard the wel&ra
of their immortal souls, no more to deny his bein^
or his providence, or despise his goodness; no.
more to make a mock of sm, or contemn the pure
and excellent religion of my ever-blessed £Le*.
deemer, through whose merits alone I, one of the.
greatest sinnerei, do yet hope for mercy and for-
giveness. Amen.

" J. RoCHEST]CR."

Declared and signed in the presence of

Anne Rochester. "> r .. ■•/* t/»o*v
Robert Parsons/ ]J^nel%l6%0.

The concurrence of so. many plain and unim-
peachable testimonies, must satisfy the scruples
and prejudices of the most scq>tica^ that Lord
Rochester was sincere in his repentance, and gave,
all possible symptoms of a lasting perseverance in
it, had it pleased God to restore him to life'. No
one can for a moment entertain a serious belief
that such a change could proceed from weakness
of body, of perturbation of mind, or from any
superstitious ternn^' arising from a misii^onned
conscience, or a dread of future puni^bment.
Love to God) and feitk m Jessua Christ, are ^

lUiKL OF ROCHESTElU 81

otAy foundalioii on which such resolutions and
persoasions could be built. So complete a vic-
toiy oyer corrupt principles and inclinations,— €0
firm, and at the same time so humble a trust in
llie diyine favour, can be ascribed to nothing else
than the effectual operation of religion.

Towards the end of Jime his health had so
much declined, that no hopes were entertained of
his fecoYery ; but he sustained his infirmities
without repining, and with perfect resignatioii to
the will of heaven. The suppiiration of a viru-
lent ulcet had emaciated his body, and reduced
him to mere skin and bone ; and by lying almost
ecmstantly on his back, the parts had begun to be
affected with mortification. In this state he conti-
nued until the 26th of July, 1680, when he ex-
pired, at the early age of thirty-three, being so
worn away by his long illness, that life went out'
without a stniggle or a groan. He was buriect
in the vault under the aisle in Spilsbury Church,'
by the body of his father.

" Nature," as Dr Burnet observes, " had fitted^
him for great things ; and his knowledge and ob-
servation qualified him to have been one of the
most extraordinary men, not only of his nation,
but of the age he lived in ; and I do verily be-
lieve, that if God had thought fit to have conti-
nued him longer in the world, he had been the
wonder and delight of all that knew him; but'
the infinitely wise God knew better what was fit ^
for him, and what the age deserved ; for men who
have so cast off all sense of God and religion, de-
serve not so signal a blessing as the example and
conviction which the rest of his life might have
fjiven them. Here is a public ix^stnxLC/^ oli ^\^

62 CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY.

who lived of their side, hut could not die in it :
And though none of all our lihertines understood
better than he, the secret mysteries of sin,r--|iad
more studied every thing wat could support a
man in it, and had more resisted all external means
of conviction; yet when the hand of God in-
wardly touched him, he could no longer fight
against the arrows of the Almighty, but humbled
hunself under that mighty hand ; and as he used
often to say in his prayers, he who had so openly
denied him, found then no other shelter but in \m
mercy and compassion. Though he lived to the
scandal of many, he died as much to the edifi-
cation of all who paw him; and becaxise they
were but a small number, he demred that he mig^
even when dead, yet speak. He was willing for
nothing to be concealed, that might cast rq>roacfa
on himself and on sin, and offer up glory to God
and religion ; so that though he Uved a heiaous
sinner, he died a most exemplary penitent."

Lord Rochester married, in 1666, Elizabeth,
daughter of John Mallet, Esq. of Enmere, So-
mersetshire ; a lady celebrated for her beauty and
fortune, being possessed of an income of £2500 a
year. By her he left a ^unily of four children, —
a son named Charles, who died in little more than
ft year after himself, and three daughters, Anne,
Elizabeth, and Mallet. The male line thus be-
coming extinct, the title was bestowed on Law-
rence Hyde, second son to the Earl of Clarendon,

Of his character end works, as a poet, it scarcely
falls within our design, or our limits, to speak*
^< He was a man, (says Walpole,) whom the muses
were fond to inspire, but ashamed to avow ; aii4
who practised^ without reserve, the secret whidi

EARL OF ROCHESTER. 83

can make yerses more read for their defects than
for their merits ; an art neither commendable nor
difficult." As he had an active and inquisitive
mind, and was never wholly negligent of study,
he had made very great progress in what may be
considered the polite learning of the times; so
much so, that he is ranked by Wood as the greatest
scholar of all the nobility. All the leisure he
found for writing was merely intervals snatched
from the routine of dissipation ; his poems, there-
fore, are commonly short, such as one fit of re-
solution might produce. '^ They have much more
obscenity than wit, — ^more wit than poetry, — and
more poetry than politeness." His amorous and
lyrical pieces, though models of their hind, are
full of mipurity and pro£euieness ; more fit to be
read hy bacchanals or bedlamites, than pretenders
to virtue and modesty ; and some of them are on
subjects so indecent, that their very title would
stain the page of biography. Such as are not so^
are l^hellous and satirical.

Much, it is said, was attributed to him, which
he did not write, and certainly the air of mystery
and concealment under which the original edition
of his works was published, after his death, was
favourable for the admission of surreptitious pro-
ductions. He had ordered, like the Roman poet,
but from very different motives, all Ms immoral
papers to be burnt ; << but the age was not without
its Curls to preserve such treasures," for some per-
son who had made a collection of lus poems, in
manuscript, published them clandestinely, from no
other motives, it was conjectured, than that of gain.
His poems have been often printed, and moY ^^
found in various collections, along m\\i xJao^^ ^1

€i CONVKftTS I^IIOM INFIDELITY.

the Earls of Roscommon and Dorset, the Marquis
of Ncnrmanby, Lord Halifax and others. Besides
the catalogae of his works giren by Walpole, Wood
mentions that there were some pieces of his, and
a Dr Robert Wild, in a collection entitled, <' Rome
Rhymed to Death," though th^ autJienticity was
questionable. This Dr Wild, he tells us, was a
fat, jolly, and boon Presbyterian, and died at
Oundle in Northamptonshire, 1679.

" His songs,^' says Dr Johnson, ^ hxrg no par-
tieular character. They tell, like other aoug^ifi
smooth and easy language of scorn skid ldiidMM»
dismission and desertion, absence aad-inconstaaey)
with the common-places of artificial courtsfaqpK*-
The glare of his general character difiuied itactf
upon his writings; the compositions of ft iMA
wnose name was heard so often, were eeitaui^^
fittention ; and from many readers, certain of 'Jfk-
plause. The blaze of his rq>utBdon is not ^y«t
quite extinguished ; and his poetry 8^ te^maB
some splendour beyond that wldch genius 'has btf-
stowed* — ^In all his works, there is* sprightluBeiB
and vigour; and every where may be fmmdtokenB
of a mmd which study might have carried to floi*
cellenoe. What more could be expected fromalifB
spent in ostentatious contempt of regularity, and
ended before the abilities of many otW men <bai«
gin to be displayed ?"

COUNT ATAUENSSB. 85

COUNT STRUENSEE-

The histcMty of Count Stinens^e, who had
-the heaoiir and the misfortune to be prime Mi-
«iBt«p of Douuark, under Christian VII. and
. .nlwu downfel produced the tragical reyolution
jn^tibe Danish cabinet of 1772, famishes a most
atrflring and pertinent example, not only of the
iaatahiJ^'Of power and {H-osperity, but also of
|Im» dangerous tendency of ubertine principles
:«ttd infidel opinions, both to the happiness of the
in^Tidnal, and to the general interests of society.
Aom an obscure adyenturer, and a foreigner, he
'ime- at once^ without patronage ot recommenda-
tion^ and even without undergoing the interme-
drudgmes <^ office^ to the yery pinnacle of
preferment, and political authority. His

was as brief and extraordmary as his pro-
motion, and terminated in a fate both melancholy
and disgrac^ul. But his catastrophe, however
mudi it is to be lamented in itself, or in its con-
sequences to his guilty accomplices, many of
wlu>m were involyed in the same ruin, — ^being
doomed to perpetual exile, or to lingering im-
prisonment in the dungeons and fortresses of their
natiye country, — to himself was productive of the
happiest effects, in leading him to a knowledge,
and a cordial reception of Christianity. It is sel-
dom that a conquest so complete and uxvftQ^WQC»I

H

86 CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY.

is achieved over talents and inclinations so grossly
perverted; and the conversion of a libertine, so
confirmed both in principle and in practice, must
be considered as no mean victory over the delu-
sions and artifices of infidelity.

John Frederick Struensee was the son of
a German divine, who was first a deacon of Rends-
burg, a small town in the duchy of SliBSwick, —
afterwards advanced to the professorship of tli^o^
1(^ in the University of Halle, and to a bidiop-
rick in Holstein. His mother was descended
from a respectable, though not a wealthy family.
His parents, though obscure, compared with lus
own extraordinary but unfortunate elevation, were
nevertheless persons of sincere and exemplary
piety ; and according to the confessions he made
when he came to alter his sentiments on religHMi^
they were at all due pains to season his youth
with the principles of virtue and goodness, toini*
tiate him in the early knowledge, and con&m him
in the belief of the Christian revelation. He was
bom August 5th, 1737, and received the rudi-
ments of his education in the celebrated Orphan
House of Dr Franke, at Halle, a seminary then
attended by vast numbei'S, though the system of
religious instruction taught there, appears to have
been of a kind rather ascetic and severe ; and he
frequently expressed his conviction, that the good
advices, and pious example of his parents, were
much better calculated to produce a salutary effect
on his future life, than the superficial and fruitless
Jknowledge that is often acquired at public schools.

About his fourteenth year he was removed to
the University of Halle, where he devoted his

COUNT STRUENSEE. 87

attention exclusively to the study of physic. Here
the restraints of youthful piety hegan gradually to,
lose their hold ; and his mind heing wholly en-
grossed with the acquisition of those sciences hy
means of which he hoped to make his fortune,
little leisure or inclination was left for reflection
on moral or reUgious subjects. The books and
companions he had recourse to for diversion, in
the hours of relaxation, were such as tended to
corrupt and mislead him; and their pernicious
sophistries gained an easier victory, by having the
bias and concurrence of his own natural propen-
sities on their side.

When he had finished his medical studies, he
went with his hther to Altona, where he settled,
and for some time was employed as the editor of
a newspaper in that city ; though afterwards he
appears to have resumed his profession, and pracr
tised with reputation and success. He entertained
no mean opinion of his own abilities,-— had an in-r
satiable desire to attain distinction in his art, and
was besides inordinately addicted to the indul-
gence of voluptuous pleasures. For these reasons,
together with an infirm state of health, he had
resolved to quit his station at Altona, intending
to go to Malaga, and settle there as a physician ;
or to make a voyage to the East Indies, of which
his imagination had become enamoured, from
the many fine descriptions he had read of that
country, in books of voyagea and travels. Here
he supposed a wider field woidd be opened for
his ambition, and the chances of his making a for-
tune greatly increased, — ^while the luxury of a
wanner climate, and more effeminate manners,
would add a new delight to those licentious grati?.

88 CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY.

fications, which, next to fame and fortimey wen
the object of his criminal research.

At this juncture, however, a favourable pros-
pect opened itself to him in Denmark, through an
acquaintance procured by a love intrigue. Tliis
opportunity he determined to seize, a|id accord-
ingly removed to Copenhagen; following that blind
and brutal passion, which involved him at last in
disgrace and ruin. By what means he was first
introduced to the notice of Christian VII. thai
King of Denmark, is not mentioned ; but in 1768
he was raised to the rank of physician to hia
majesty, and in this quality appointed to attend
him during his tour in visiting sevnal of the courts
of Europe. From his first .entering the country,
he had resolved to act a distinguished part, though
he could never have imagined that his name was
to become so conspicuous as it did in the political
annals of the North. Being then in the flower of
life, possessing an agreeable person, and attractive
manners, together with considerable talents both
for business and amusement, he soon contrived to
insinuate himself into the good graces of his royal
master, and secured that uncommon degree of
court favour which paved the way to all Ins sub-
sequent preferments. He accompuiied him to
England, where, in compliment to the official
character he held, the University of Oxford con-
ferred upon him the honorary degree of Doctor
of Medicine. While at Paris, he formed an ac-
quaintance and an intimate friendship with Count
Brandt, a Dane of good family, who afterwards
became the associate of his crimes and his public
delinquencies, and a fellow-suiferer with him c-*
the same block*

COUNT STRUENSEE. 89

Brandt had held a distinguished place among
tlie fayourites of Christian VII. and was a gentle-
. ijian of the king's bed-chamhor ; but having in-
curred the royal displeasure, he was obliged to
0y his country, and retiring to Paris, he led there
)for some time a life of obscurity and comparative
.jMidigence. Struensee pledged himself to use, on
his return, all his credit at court to have him re-
pealled, and reinstated in his office ; an engagement
;which he found no great difficulty in fulfilling,
^irom the surpassing esteem in which he was held
;by both their majesties.

I. On his arrival in the Danish capital, the king,
with his own hand, presented Struensee to lus
jroyal Consort, recommending him to her, at the
^sfmie time, as a man of talents, and as peculiarly
(dolled in the profession of physic. His pro-
^'ess in the favour and partiality of the Queen,
^was as sudden and extraordinary as it had been in
.the good opinion of her husband. Every day he
jeeeived from them new marks of consideration
and regard. He was immediately made a Privy
£oiiiuuUf)r, and together with his friend Brandt,
now recalled, through his interest, from exile, and
restored to his former office, raised to the rank of
Count. He now stood forth publicly the declared
and confidential favourite of the king, and within
A very short space was constituted first minister,
with almost unlimited political power.
. This rapid and altogether unmerited elevation
of a man oif obscure birth, and a foreigner, created,
as was to be supposed, feelings of envy and disgust
among the courtiers and nobility, who were indignant
at the marked preference shewn to a stranger and oil
upstart. Such distinctions and pToino^oTkB>\xA^i^

h2

90 CONVERTS FROM IMFIBKtITY.

were by no means rare in the hiMiory ofrthiiit
eonnlay. . The highest offices in the state iutdbem
often bestowed on adYentiira:^ who were -eitha^
foreignerB or natives of the lowest ookU The
kingdom was governed for a hundred yenB hf
strangers, . who were imacquainted with its foiicfr
and disdained even to acquire its language^ Beni«
storff a Hanoverian, Lynar a Sax<m, ai^ St GeiN
main a Frenchman, were among the ablest of tliar
Danish ministers. On the present occasioD, ham^
ever, the admission of this aspiring physician into
the cabinet, was resented as an intrusion by a very.
powerful and insidious faction. Reports and sop*:
mises were speedily circulated, disgraceful to :IJmI
new minister, and injurious to the honour o£ tha
Queen, whose attachment to Struensee, exceeded
in appearance at least, the bounds of moderatioBK
andpublic decorum.

This young Queen of Denmark, as is well known, "
was the Princess Caroline Matil^ of England, and
sister to George III. She is described by Danidi
writers as the handsomest woman of her Courts
of a gentle but reserved character, and possessed
of qualities which, imder a more fortunate connec*
tion might have insured no small share of genetal
esteem and popularity. But unhi^ily her map*
riage was one of those which, too often in royal .
life, is not contracted from preference or choice,
but from motives of political interest, or the coin
trivance of party; and is consequently destitute of
every requisite essential to conjugal felicity. JtUac
husband was weak and dissolute, and bad either '
a natural imbecillity of understanding, or had im^. -
paired hia mental faculties by early debauchery. <
To the caprice of tibia Cee\>\& wEkdi ^^v^nteA.-!^^

dM^Wti AKrificed at the age of seyenteen* Their
miflb: wlikh) from the beginning, waa any thing
¥■1 aa alliance of hearts and aifections, was ren-
dered donbly tmhappy by the intrigues of factiousi
Ipinistera^ who fomented and kept np a constant
tfako/omty between them. The attachment of the
kk^9 if it may cteserre the name, thus alienated,
piftly. in consequence of his own excesses, and
otttly finom ihe rival jealousies of court parasites,
nd subsided from cold formality into cru^ dis-
nftpecl. He did not treat her even with common
cmlity ; and allowed her to be publicly insulted
in* her own palace, by the Russian Minister at
Copenhagen. His resentment fell on ail who were
gidlty of taking her part, and his favourite cousin
the Prince of Hesse, was disgraced for no other
crime.

Such was the condition of this neglected and ill-
fiited Queen, when Sfruensee entered on his admi-
matration. By his insinuating address he soon
gvned her confidence, and from pity or gallantry
took ah interest in her sufferings. His influence
omer the listless monarch was the means of re-
storing her to his good graces ; although this de-
sinble reconciliation proved the harbinger of his
owB ruin, by furnishing his enemies with plausible
reasons of attack.

Whether these imputations were founded on
truth, or were merely the offspring of detraction
and disappointed mal^nity, has never been clearly
ascertained, as much credit cannot be attached ei-
ther to the integrity of her prosecutors, or to the
justice of the legal measures adopted to substan-
tiate tlie charges against her^ In the suit of di-
TOfiee wtach was commenced soonaSten; \i€S «st«&v

92 CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY.

ment, many criminative circunwtances were sworn
to ; but the witnesses were generally those who had
been employed as spies on her conduct, and n\06t
of their evidence was capable of an innocent ex-
planation. If her own confessions are tme, de-
clared in her last moments to a respectable clergy-
man, the accusations of her enemies were utterly
groundless ; and as to her signing with her own
hand a declaration of her guilt, the deed appears
to have been altogether the contnvance of cruel and
malicious artifice, extorted from her in an agony of
despair, and with the hope of saving the life of the
unfortunate Count. The avowal of an illicit in-
tercourse made by Struensee himself to the copi-
missioners, is said to have been obtained by threats
of torture, or some faint hopes of preservatioii ; air
tliough the statements he made in his penitential con-
ferences with the learned divine who attended him
during his imprisonment, do not admit of so &yoar-
able an interpretation. As nothing criminal} how-
ever, was ever legally proved, sympathy foi: the
misfortunes, and even the faults of an injiired
Queen, will incline us to put the most . charitable
construction on levities that cannot be defended ;
and to conclude that nothing criminal ocennfid-'
At the same time, the greatest share of virtuous
abhon-ence will fall on the conspirators themselves^
who made her imprudence or her infirmities a cloak
for their own base purposes of ambition or revenge*
It cannot, however, be concealed or denied, that
her imprudence was great and inexcusable, and con-,
sidering the libertine character of Struenaeei it
would require the strongest counter-evidence to
wipe ojOT the suspicion. Not only in private, .bat ^t.
theatres, assemblies, and even in the public streets

COUNT STRUEMSEE. 93

of Copoahagen, slie manifested a yery injndiciotu
preference for the Count. Neither remonstrances,
nor motives of personal or prudential regard, could
induce her to moderate the testimonies of her par-
tiality towards him. Such was her want of pro-
priety and discretion, that she frequently rode out
with him, habited completely in the dress of a
nentleman, without any part of female attire ; and
UMn^h this disguise was then fieu* from being un-
oommon, or reckoned unbecoming in Northern
manners, and implied no immodesty of deportment,
yet it tended to increase the clamour and irrita-
tion which other indiscretions had raised.

The King, who was a mere pageant of state, re-
maiiied a passive and indifferent spectator of these
ttansactions, and nerer expressed nor seemed to
feel the slightest resentment at the behaviour of
either herself or her favourite. The powers of his
mind, as well as his body, had smik into a state of
apathy or premature dotage, which rendered him
not only callous to the scandals of liis court, but
incapable of taking any part in the management of
public affairs. Tlie administration of the State had
devolved therefore entirely on the Queen, Struensee,
aiid their adherents, who ruled with absolute and
uncontrolled authority.

Of the acts or the policy of Struensee's ministry,
it scarcely falls within our province or our intention
to speak. It is with his character as a libertine
and an infidel that we have to do, and not as a
statesman or a politician. On thi» part of his
history, therefore, our remarks shall be brief and
general.

In the important office to which he was so unex-
pectedly raised, the Count showed himself to be %

94 CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY.

maa of unquestionable abilities, and far beyond
what might have been augured from his habits and
inexperience. His powers of application were great ;
he was rapid and decisive in Ins resolutions, as well
as enlarged and patriotic in his views. Many of
his pubHc measures were calculated to improve
and to aggrandize the state oyer whidi he presided ;
although others of them were unadvised, illiberal,
and unpopular. Though well*meant, his policy
was often ill-judged, and easily misled by insidious
adversaries. His impetuosity sometimes impelled
him to rash counsels, and reckless legislalion;
braring prejudices, that greats mildness or pru-
dence would have disarmed^ and offending intev^sts
that might have been easily reconciled. He irri-
tated the military by dissolving the guards ; and
thus weakened his own authority, by throwing the
discontented satellites of arbitrary power into the
ranks of his enemies. He' excited the just resent-
ment of the nobility by the suppression of the
Privy Coimcil ; and by repealing a very ancient
law inflicting capital punishment on adidtery, he
raised against him the clamorous indignation of the
people, who regarded this step, and perhaps not
without reason, as a mark of his approbation of that
vice, and an inlet to licentiousness. Some of his
improvements, however, were laudable and excel-
lent ; and it ought not to be forgotten, that he was
the first minister of an absolute monarch that abo-
lished the torture. He interested himself to ob-
tain freedom for the enslaved husbandmen ; and
granted to Calvinists, Moravians, and even to Ca-
tholics, the free exercise of their religious worship.
In his disposition he was generous, frank, and
without hypocrisy; but he was defideiit in that

I

COUNT STRUENSEE. 95

profound judgment, that unwearied vigilance, and
political sagacity, which were necessary for main-
taining him in his precarious elevation. These de-
ficiencies hecame more and more apparent, in pro-
portion as the difficulties of his station increased.
Towards the close of his ministry, when his ene-
mies were become numerous, powerful, and im-
placable, his strength and presence of mind seemed
to have forsaken him, and his conduct in many in-
stances betrayed a strange absence of all foresight
or address.

His moral character was, however, far more ex*"
ceptionable then his political ; and-his private licen-
tiousness seems to have been the secret spring of
several legislative measures, which were not only
disgraceful and odious in tliemselves, but which
proved the forerunners of that indignation and
infamy whidi at last overwhelmed hun, and ter-
minated his eventful and infatuated career. Pro-
fligacy and ambition were the rocks on which
he split. His moral principles ^ were corrupt,
and he indulged without consideration or remorse,
in every species of voluptuousness. In a Court
unmersed in dissipations and criminal pleasures
oi all kinds, he stood forth the avowed patron,
and the guilty partaker of every fashionable
vice. At masked balls, and other foreign amuse-
ments of that sort, then for the first time intro-
duced into the Danish metropolis, he was the gay
leader, and the indefetigable promoter of whatever
tended to foster or encoun^e the dark artifices of
gallantry and intrigue. This wretched policy was
designed partly to win over to his own faction such
of the Danish nobility, as the inglorious love of
sensual indulgences might dispose to become hia

r ■• : ■

06 CONVERTS FROM IKFIDELITY.

asBociates, and partly to relax those wfaolMon
atraints of ancient discipline, which had hit
secured the national morality of the Daite6 n{
the contagion of foreign manners*

The profligacy of Struensee did not confii
self to the gratification of his personal desires
was the object of his perverted ambition to co
the purity, and to undermine the principles^
of the Court and the capital, to remove the
marks of right and wrong, to hold out evei
centive to iniquity, and to create evory facilit
its indulgence. He procured the banieiune
Count Berastorff, an old and fiivoarite minisi
the crown, a man of the most unimpeacbab]
tegrity, and whose stem and primitiTe chai
might have proved an obstacle to that gen«»
ruption of morals which he was labouring to i
minate. It is highly probable the same boli
unprincipled contempt for the common dlecenc
society, might weigh with him in repealing ti
vere and barbarous law against adultfny, — a
sure from which he secretly expected to gai
accession of adherents, perhaps of genend ]
larity ; although its effect, like some of his oth
forts to make proselytes to his licentious opii
was rather to excite feelings of disgust and a!
rence, being considered as no less than holdin
a reward for the commission of the crime ; an
cordingly, this act, however meritorious in
of humanity, was everywhere received with s
marks of national indignation.

Being a disbeliever in Revelation, and a
fessed scoffer, he shewed the same culpable an
to propagate a tmiversal scepticism in religio
weu as in morals ; and notlung but the high i

COUNT STRUENS£E. 97

«f Wine asd {Hropriety that obtained in the conn-

: tfyw* could have baffled the insidioiiB arts of the

■Miiiifter^ pt checked the infections example of

die Conrt, from descending and communicating

. itself through the wh<^ mass of the population.

But fortunt^y his career of dissipation and mi»>

gOYenuBent was destined to be but diort, and his

6te has left an instructiye warning to those, who

being nther bom with the opportunities of doin^

goody or having raised themselves by their talents

,tQ become the instruments of utility and happi-

laeaa to the world, wilfully pervert these natural

fwivaatagies from dieir <M*iginal purpose^ and tors

Aem into occasions to mMead, to coimpt^ aad

^patroy mankind*

. . "Wlule occupied with a c(»istant succession of
conrtly excesses, or gay amusements that seemed
to leave nothing to apprehend ; and while precan-
tioB was laid asleep in the indulgence of criminal
plaaswasy jfche enemies of Struensee were secretly
coDGocting their plans and preparing for his de-
atmction. The Queen dowager and her son,
IVince Frederic, were at the head of the hostile
party. They were joined by several of the nobi-
fity and men of rank, who were indignant at the
conduct of the minister, and irritated to see them-
aelyea superseded by an obscure stranger, and ex*
eluded by this unnatural preference from places of
hereditary trust and official authmty. The prin-
dpal acton in this revdiutiimary scene, were
Count lUntzau, who had formerly been his col-
league in the editorship of the Altona Journal, and
aCterwaids intrusted by him with the charge of
ftneign afbirs ; and Colonel Koller Banner, whose
iafliience amcmg the soldi^^ with whom Stmen-

98 CONV£RTS FnOM INFIDELITY.

see was no ftiToiirite, was sufficient to draw a con-
siderable number of them over to their party.
Their plan was to apprehend the persons of the
Queen and the Count, at the anniversary festival
which was always kept on the 1st day of January ;
a ceremony at which the Court and the Royal
Family usually assisted. The promiscuous mul-
titudes that assembled on this occasion near the
palace, seemed to offer an opportunity too favour-
able to be neglected; and the military accord-
ingly had orders to break in among lh& crowd,
arrest the unguarded victims, or even put them to
death on the spot, should any resistance be at-
tempted.

lliis scheme, however, which so many circum-
stances appeared to facilitate, was disconcerted at
the very point of exieculion, by an anonymous
warning sent to a nobleman in the Qneem's house-
hold, enjoining him to be absent if he regarded his
safety. This mysterious intimation he communi-
cated to her Majesty, who, on pretence of indis-
position, immediatdy announced her dettennina-
tion not to be present at the festivity. This reso-
lution, of course, frustrated the design at the tboe ;
but the failure of the project neither inspired the
persecuted party with sufficient caution against
similar attempts, nor did it relax the activity of
their opponents in renewing their madiinictions,
and watching the advantage of some more favour-
able crisis. Sudi on opportunity soon presented
itself in a masked^mll which was to be given in
the Royal Palace, on the Idth of Jaacuary 1772.
The arrangements were settled with all iiie skill
and secrecy that appeared requisite to insure sfuc-
cess. Rantzau undertook the delicate task of

COUNT STRUENSEE. 99

persuading the Kii^ to sign the order for tlieir
arrest ; and Colonel Banner, a man of intrepid and
dectsive character, and the animating spirit of the
whole enterprise, had the important commission
of seizing Stmensee.

At the conclusion of the masquerade, and about
four o'clock in the morning, when the King had
retired to his bed-chamber, and the plot seemed
ripe for action, Rantzau, whose treachery, arising
either from » jealousy of some of his accomplices,
or from compunctions of gratitude for Struensee's
friendship and former services, had nearly over-
turned the whole scheme, repaired directly to his
majesty, informed him that a conspiracy existed
against his person and government, at the head <tf
which were his wife, Stmensee, and several of
their associates ; and that if he valued his life or
his security, a warrant must instantly be signed
for their apprehension. This discovery, sudden
and unexpected as it was, did not altogether per-
suade the King as to the reality of his danger, or
the truth of Rantzau's representation, and he hesi-
tated to affix his name to the paper ; but the Queen
dowager and Prince Frederic being called in, by
means of artifice and exaggeration, succeeded at
length in procuring his reluctant assent, and the
order was signed accordingly.

The Queen and Struensee, who had danced to-
gether the greater part of the night, and continued
several hours after the King had withdrawn, were
retired to their apartments, and no obstacle was
left for the conspirators to encounter, that could in
the least oppose or frustrate their purpose. Ban-
ner seizing the moment when all was dark and
solitary, repaired immediately to Count Straensee's

100 CONVERTS FROM INFIDBLITT.

chamber, forced open the door, and found him asleep
m his bed. The Count submitted qmetly, as, in
fiict, he was totally unprepared for resistance, Iwt-
ing no weapons near him, and no other clothes
than the masquerade dress he had worn at the belL
He was permitted to wrap himself up in his for
cloak, as the weather was extremely cold, and im-
mediately conveyed in a coach to the Citadd^
where he was imprisoned and loaded with irons.

Brandt, his companion in misfortune, was ar«
rested at the same time. When the soldiers e^
tered his room he started up, seized his swordy
and put himself in an attitude of defence ; but the
soldiers leyelling their pieces, and threatening to
fire on him, he yielded up his sword, surrendered
himself prisons, and was conducted, under a guard,
to the place whcnre his friend was already in confine-
ment. Various others of their associates shared a
similar fate, or had centinels placed at the do<»r8
of their apartments.

Early next morning, the Queen was seized by
Rantzau, who with three officers rushed with drawn
swords into her chamber, and compelled her to rise
from her bed. After making repeated and heroic
attempts in vain to gain her libeity, she was hur-
ried away, half-dressed, with her infont daught^
in her arms, and a single attendant, to Crmien-
bourg, a fortress about twenty-four miles fit>m
Copenhagen, where she was committed to close
prison. Her fate was for some time doubtfol, and
she probably owed to her near alliance with the Bri-
tish crown, that measures of extreme severity were
not adopted against her by the new Danish ministry.
It was proposed to immure her for life in some gob
of the state-prisons ; and the solitary and sequester-

COUNT STBUEKSEE. 101

edCtellFot' Aabouigv in die pemnmila of Jutland,
TV«B>4te8tin)od for her reeepti|«. But the interpo-
sitkn of- the British government procured her a
repriere from this dreiry captifity, and the Castle
of Zi^ waa fixed on for her destination, an ancient
andnofole Gothic edifice, and everjr way fitted for
the residence of the royal exile. Here she lired,
if'4ael in a state of splendour and magnificence, at
leaet in a style of elegance and comfort, that miti-
gated to her in a great degree this dismal and un-
enmcted reverse of fortune. The liberality of the
Kmgof England supplied her with pecuniary re-
smutceSf and provided her a suitable household,
cOTnpoeed cfaieAy of Hanorerian nobility of both
seices.' After a residence at Zell of scarcely two
yean and a^half, she was snatched away at the age
of twlentyofoui) in the prime of youth ; rendered by
h«r imprudence and her misfortunes, the object at
onoe of CMMure and commiseration.

The conspirators exulted oyer the fallen foitunes
of their prostrate victims with a barbarous and un-
manly insolence. The very next day the King was
paraded through the streets in a carriage drawn by
e^^ milk-white horses. The city was illuminated,
as if in hcmour of e6me glorious victory over a foreign
enemy, which had saved their country from ruin.
The <^ergy were accused of uttering from their
pulpits severe and unchristian invectives ; and the
pii^ulace, inflamed by tlieir declatinations, pillaged
fhmi sixty to a hundred houses.

It is matter of surprise, that so numerous
and powerful a faction, many of whom, if not
teken separately, or by sti'atagem, would un-
questionably have had sufficient influence to over-
throw the whole conspiracy, should have been

i2

IQi CONVERTS raPM i»rPIDSE.ITY.

a^. ^011(86. and ixm^ptolely'eiiuli^diilF^^
^tiaa# 01^ much populac eomnotioiu BBklii dkomi
that the ciMurae of eveiits is «miigBd'aiiiil mtif
gnlatod by a policy aaperior to that of Iramaairivo
dom; and ^t what appetts a trifle » or an «eci^1
deati is in reality llie grand hinge on ivMdi- ihe^
mightieBt consequences are destnied: toinnur: Av
■Mijgnlar &tality seems indeed to liaTeatteiid8ddM.t
Qaeen and all her adherents ; for Rantzan was pivit
pared not only to desert his own party, hat Imd?^
determined to reveal the whole secret to Stmameep
and for this purpose had actually written oaiiymi
few hours before the ball commencedy desiring to-
haye an interview with him at his ownapartasenia)
on business of the utmost importance. If tiierai»t
fore the unfortunate Count hiid gonehome^aswiri
his usual practice after business, he would hmab
been put in possession of intellig^ice) liiat woidd'x
not only haye extricated lum fnnn his periykms si«'>
tuation, but ouibled him to haye avenged himself/
on his adversaries. But being detained rather ^
late by a variety of afiairs, he did not, as was his •
general custom, return to his own apartments, but-:
went directly to the ball-room, and thus knt-lfae*
opportunity of benefiting, by the treachery or;f
friendship of a faithless conspirator.

A committee was appointed to inquire into hm^
afiairs, and discovmes were made, of a iurtniv
which left no doubt that his life would ftdl a sam-
fice, if not to the public justice of his country, trt
least to the v^geance of a victorious fisbcdon.
Many who pitied his misfortunes, when they saw '
him precipitated from the summit of power and
favour, to which his talents had raised him, yet re-
joiced at the termination of Ids ministry, and looked

wptpihiitf downfcl — cne of the happiert oc eur imc 6«
Mi liad .fauppened' in tlieir 1ms. They considered
hwB Ifav restemion of pnblie deceney and mond
osditity which the acts and licentioos examples of
faiir jpvemnieBt were rapidly driying into exile. It
seotoed to be a severe but necessary check for pre-
▼auting'thenatiDnal manners firom nniversal eon*
taMtaaCiony-^the only safeguard that coold protect
the lights of piety and virtne against those dan*
genlofl encroachments that threatened to sabvert
and abolidi them. Among all sober and reflect-
i^ man, there was bnt one opinion, that during his
admimstrstion, leligion had eTery thing to fear; and
that die morals of the people, at least of the capi-
ta^ eonld not long hare withstood the contagious
inflnence of the Conrt, which was gradually un-
denmning their ancient purity, and opening the
way for » general deluge of vice and profanity to
overspread the kingdom. He had always, even
before the tune of his political greatness, shevm
himself to be a libertine in principle, and a sceptic^
orinther an avowed mfidel in his religious senti-
meats. This was the opinion of his character
amongthose who knew bun most intunately ; and
that weir estimate was by no means ill-founded,
seems clearly enough prored by many of his public
regulations, his patronizing and promoting a scan-
dalons laxity of manners, and his abolishmg such
laws as tended to restrain intemperance and im-
morality.

Even those who entertained the most feyourable
impressions of him, regarded him as a man of
gaUantry, reckless of consequences, and entirely
doYOted to pleasure and ambition. His fate, there-
fore^ iq[>peared to them but the accomplishment of

t .

104 CONVERTS FROM INFIDSCITY.

a ddamity that rnigfat easily faaTe bMn foretold^ •><
jwt puniBhrneot for those errors and crimte whfbb *
he hunself happily saw reason to oondemiiy aiKb -
lamented with tears of penitential sorrow. The'-
immediate perpetrators of his rum, howevetf can^-
not be allowed the credit of motxrea sO Tirtaoos
or so honourable. With diem, his irreligiony hi9'
immoralities, or even his political delinquencies *
were only the instnmients . or pretext by which'-
they contrived to e0ect his de^bractifln ; and it
must be admitted that he fell a yictim, 9A nrack
to the intrigues of a diBContested and a^iring"-
faction, as to his own imprudent or^npiincipMii
conduct. j»v

Afiter he had been for nearly six weehs ia«kK»>^
and cruel confinement, the new ministry, wril<)
knowing the &te that ultimately awaited himy>i
manifested a laudable sympathy and concern ier./'
his spiritual welfare, by a£bi*ding him anopportu- »-
nity of changing his infidel opinions before he' -
should be Called out of the world. Dr Munter^ >>
minister of one of the German churches in Co«
penhagen, and an eminent theologian^ was ap-
pointCMcl, by tbe king s express orders, to attend '
him during his imprisonment, and to admiiuster
such religious advice and consolation aS might be
best adapted ' to the mdancholy situation of the
prisoner. Little is known of this foreign d^ •
vine ; but the account he has left us of his
professional visits, on the present occasion^ prove
him to have been a man of great humanity, as
well as a conscientious and considerate minister
of religion.

It was at this time, also, that the pttufent
noblemaik drew up, and wrote with hk of^o-

COUNT STRUEMSEE. ld$

hand, Ins famous Confession, which did honour^
both to his ability as a writer, and his since-
rity as a c<my«i;. In this paper, which still
r^nains an authentic monument of his reUgicm
and piety, he intended partly to effitce the bad
impressions his example had made on the minds
of others, but chiefly to inform the world that
his YiewB and sentiments were really altered, and
to relate how this alteration was produced. It
was meant to convince those into whose hands it
might £b11, whether Christians or not, that he had
become a belieyer after mature deliberation, — and
diat he died such ; that he had examined the sub-
ject of religion coolly, and reasoned upon it, and
tfaetefore obviated every suspicion which his ene^
mies mi^t insinuate, of his having turned Chris-
tian from fear, or weakness of imderstanding. From
it, tib^^ore, a tolerably clear idea may be formed
as to the important alteration that took place in
his views, as well as of the strange creed, both in
morals and religion, by which he had contrived to
silence his conscience, and palliate or justify the
extravagances of his life. The declarations he
makes Acre, and in his conferences, only add an-
other confirmation to what usually happens with
sceptics and infidels in general ; that^ their imbe-
lief is a disease of the heart, rather than of the
nnderBtanding,-^that they first quit the paths of
virtue, before they attempt to shake off the re-
straints of Christianity, or deny the truth of reve-
lation.

Voluptuousness, he acknowledged, had been his
chief passion,^d had contributed most to his mo-
ral depravity. His opinion had always been, that
he lived for no other end but to procure htmseU

105 CONVERTS FROM INFIDRLITY,

agreeable sensations. He had reduced every tl
to this standard, and all his actions, evea vact
them as were performed for the attainment of
tsoms or charitable purposes, he regarded mei
■8 means to promote nis own plc»isiire. In
yonth he had blindly abandoned himself to all s
of dissipation. << Being at the Umrersity," aays
^ I lired now and th^ for whole months toget
in dissipation and extrafigance ; but then 1 1
to my studies for a time again. Improving
fanning my heart I never thought of, till I was
<or three and twenty years of age." When
found the bad consequences of this irregular life
endeavoured to restore his health by tempers
«nd regularity. But this was only a prepaia
for a new course of guilty enjoyments ; foi
sooner was his health recovered, than he plui
again into sensual indulgences, confining hin
perhaps more within the bounds of rational restn
In these excesses he could not even plead the c
mon excuse of vicious companions, or outv
temptations. He confesses himself to havie 1
his own seducer, — ^tbat he administered with
own hand the fatal poison which tainted &
principle of his heart,-^very action of his life;
tMTought him at last to an untimely grave.

Much of this moral contamination -he had
bibed at an early period, from reading books
contained unsound or perverted notions witb
gard to virtue and religion^ He was convei
with the writings of most of the French phil
phers, and personally acquainted with seven
them. He had studied Rousseau, whose here
opinions in ethics are well known. Helve
'whom he greatly admired, had made- him a

COUNT STRUENSSE. 107

lierer in the abedbte perfection of human reason,
and the allnraffidency of man's natural powers.
Voltaire's innumerable, scurrilons, and sarcastic
pieceis against Christianity, in whidi the same at-
tacks are r^)eated orer and over again, under new
names, and in a different disgiuse, he had read with
aaddity, and may be considered as one of the many
mwary and mi^aided victims, who fell a sacrifice
in the con^iracy of that arch-infidel against reli-
gion. Captivated by his wit and humour, he was
blind to 'diose Bumerous felsehoods, contradictions,
and gratuitous assumptions, liiat, were there no-
thing dse objeclionflft)le, must render his infamous
pro^ictions altogether unworthy of credit or repu-
tation.

From Boulanger, a writer miserably deficaent as
to accurate information in history and antiquity, —
whose composidons are a mere tissue of falsehoods
and sdbsurdities, and as little worthy of credit or
confidence as Voltaire's, he picked up some fiiYO*
lous and hypothedicsd objections against Chris*
tianity : That fear was the erigin of all religions
among the ancieats ; itiat all calamities which could
befal men, as earthquakes, fires, innundations, war,
&C. ibey used to look upon as punishments from
their gpds, tibongh they arose from natural causes ;
and to appease the wrath of their deities, they
came to tmnk of religion. These «nd sindlor un-
founded coi^ectures, he embraced as 'Undeniifble
&<^ and beHeved tlmt Boulanger had proved very
clearly from history the random assertions made
in his jbUi^piiU^ DewnUe. Hus infidel author, as
the reader perhaps knows, was a contemporary of
Paine, and like bun a zealous apostleof the French
phUoeof^y. Revealed religi<m he discarded as a'

108 CONVERTS FROM INFIDXLITT*

(able ; piety he ridiculed as enthmiasiii, an
with contempt the idea of future rewards
niahments. No system of morals could
grateful to libertines than his, as it confii
Tiews wholly to this world, teaching tl
their whole duty consisted in their bei
members of society ; that they could onl
injuring each other ; and that their condv
eyer impious, could not o£Fend the Deit
doctrine of immortality he rejected entire)
commodation with the creed then presc
the National Conrention of France, who
lemnly enacted, That the soul perishes ^
body; although they afterwards thought ]
rescind this blasphemous edict, and deda
be immortaL

Fhjudiced in this manner against relij
passions, vanity, and perverted views, eve
became a stumbling-stone to his belief, an*
of offence* A revelation he looked upc
together unnecessary ; since he thought h
discover in the nature of man, sufficient
and springs to make him virtuous. Its h
evidence appeared to him dubious ; and t
related to be very improbable. The effect
gion, within himself, he had never percc
at least never attended to them. Its d
seemed to contradict all his pre-conceived
Its morals appeared to him too severe, and i
entirely supcanseded, since a system equal!
perfect, and useful, might be found in the
of philosophers : human nature, he believe
tradicted its precepts, and was directly at ^
with them. He urged, as formidable objec
that Christianity was known but among

COUNT STRUEMSEB. 109

part of mankind — ^thafc it made veiy little impres-
id6ii wbere it was known — ^that few of those who ;
did profess it, acted agreeably to its precepts-*- )
^taX Its abuse had produced a great many fatal ^, .
consequences ; since it was chargeable with cruelty, ^ '
pearsecution, and bloioSshed, and had been made a
clo^ for the most diabolical crimes;
-'-Amongst other reasons for his rejecting the
itfguments for Christianity, were> the improbability
of. miracles, and the mysterious nature of the
«t<Aiement. The objections commonly urged
iigahkBt the credibility of supernatural events, ap-
'jp6ar^ to him unanswerable ; and when he re-
flected on the redemption of Christ, it seemed
liepugnant to his ideas of the dirine love, and
hiuxily reconcileable with mercy or justice. He
i^EUdgmed God might have forgiven sins, and made^.,-
'men happy without this. That there was a Su-
preme Being, he saw na reason to doubt ; but he
denied the existence of a future state, the moral
tesponsibility of human actions, the immortality
of the soul, and the retribution of rewards and
punishments. These articles being discarded from
'iiis creed, he adopted another, as he conceived,
more rational and agreeable, — one that would
permit him to enjoy fis irregular pleasures with*
trat impairing Ms satisfaction, by torturing Inm
with consequences and reflections.
* ^ I endeavoured," says he, ^ to imprint on my
Mind such principles as I judged proper to govern
my actions, and which I thought would answer
liie-end I had in view. My memory was filled
with mend rules, but at the same time, I had va-
rious excuses to reconcile a complying reason with
the weaknesses and ^e infirmitieB of the human

VOL. I. K

110 CONVZBTl VROM IMFIDBLITT.

Imrt My mdentandiiig ww prepoMMtsed wilb
•^Gfabts and difficulties against the infJEiUilnlity of
those means, by which we arrive at troth and cer-
tainty. My will was, if not fully deftennined, ytt
aecretly nmch inclined to comply only inlh 8«idi
fcties as did not lay me nnder the necessity of sa*
crificing my faroorite inclinations. IbefieTed, from
ihe consideration of God and the nature of man,
lint there were no particular obligations towards
the Supreme Being, besides those which are de-
liyed from the admiration of his grealaess, and a
general gratitude on account of our existence.

*^ Tlie actions of men, so far as diey are deter-
imned by notions produced by natural senlimentSy
by agreeable or disagreeable un[»es8i(«8, from ex-
ternal objects, from education, custom, and the dif-
ferent circumstances he is in, appeared to me to be
such as could, in particular instances, neither
please nor displease God, any more than the dif-
ferent events in nature, which lire founded in its
external laws. I W9a satisfied in observing, that
generd as well as particular instances, tended to
one point, namely, the preservation of the whole ;
and this alone was what I thought worthy the care
of a Supreme Bdng. I ^hou^ht tl^t virtue con-
sisted in nothing else but in actions whidi are naer
fnl to society, and in a desire of producing them^-^
Ambition, love of our native country, natural la-
dinsition to what is good, a well-regulated setf-
love, or even the knowledge oi religion, whoi they
«re consideBed as motives of virtue, I looked upon
as indifferent tlni^is, according as they happenedy
4o make. different impressions upon particular per-
sons. Reason and reflection were, in my c^iniony
jh04>i»lyteaGhfln«iid regulatoni of yirtno; And

fX»CniT BTBUBNSSI. Ill

kt 10 tD be ftfieomted tlw most Tirtttoiis, wbdse a«-
tMms WBte itm moBt waeiid, the most difficult to be
pnctiied^ aad of the most extensive influence; and
no one coold be blamed who observed the laws of
loi comttryv and the true principles of honour*"

With sodi prittci|desy and imder snch conyie-
tionsy he found it not difficult to excuse his ftr
iKmrite passions^ The indulgence of these ap-
peaared to him, at the most, to be only a weak-
Bess, if tiiey were not attended by bad conse-
quences to himself or to others ; and theae he
thought could be prevented by prudence and dr-
cnmq>ection. He alleged that many who pre-
tended to honour and virtue, yet indulged them,
and even excused them s That the manners of the
times permitted, nlently, liberties which werocon-
densned only by ihe too rigid moralist, but were
treated with more indulgence and tenderness by
^oee who were acquainted with the human heart.
Whenever he saw means to gain his ends, he fan-
cied it very hard if he shoidd not make use of
them. " I cannot help- it," said he, ^ that my na-
tural temper and disposition ia so much for volup-
tuousness ; it therefore cannot be imputed to me
for a crime, if I Kve accor^ng to- this my disposi-
tion." Ccmtinence was, in 1^ eyes, a virtue pro-
duced by prejudice ; and he had heard of whole
nations ttax subsisted without knowing or prac-
tising it. He had dismissed all fean aiKl ^lectft-
tions of futurity, as the best excuse he could de-
vise for an irregular life, the only opiate that could
quiet the reproaches of conscience, or support and
tranqKlltae Ids mind undier misfortune. The hap-
pinesa and rewards promised hereafter, were in
Act no i^ur or encouragement to him» His gnat

] 12 CONVERTS FROM INFIPSLITT.

delight in sensual pleasures pcfsnaded hisi, ihaifc
as ^ere was nothing of this kind among the joys
of heay ^ they could have no channs or relish for
him.

Such is an outline of ^e fidse but firmly rooted
system of religion and morals which Stmensee had
■ fiibidGated for himself, which he had snbstitated in
prefermice to that of the gospel, and believed to be
much better adapted to the present condition of
human life. And when we reflect how flattering
these opinions are to corrupt nature, and howaUy
defended they were in this case, by the reaomrces
of a vigorous and powerful understanding, we can
well suppose that it required no small portion of
professional skill and judicious management in Ins
pious instructor, to make him discredit and aban-
don them* Dr Munter had obstacles of peculiar
difficulty to encounter in cmitending with a man,
who, by his own talents alone, had raised ^himself
from a comparatively humble situation, to almost
despotic power in a foreign Court ; whose priur
ciples were so -strongly fortified by arguments, and
his moral feelings hardened and seared into a state
of the most hopeless and callous insensibility*

In this delicate and diflicult task he acquit-
ted himself in the most satisfactory manner ; and
proved the happy instrument in the hand of Pro-
vidence of e£fecting a complete eonversimi, and
reclaiming this pro£gate nobleman from the paths
of scepticism and immorality, to a firm conviction
of the Christian revelation. He imparted his in-
structions in the form of conferences or convnsa-
tions on the several topics that came under discus-
sion in course of his attendance.* He kept aregis-
ter or journal of each separate visit, in which the

* 60U2fT STm/£lf8£B. IIS

iffgtfiiieiito and ob^ecdotift are staled exaeUy aa
they were propounded ; and which exhibits the
duffacter of the distii^aiahed peniteat^ as weU as
of has spiritual teacher, in a most interesting
p<Nnt of view. Nerer was » ease of infidelity
treated with greater jnc^^ent, or more tenderness^
and his c^mduct is a im>del of inutationL for any
ckETgyman^ shcmld the duties of his profesHLoa*
place him in similar circmnstanGes* It is impoe>
sible to toiieh the wounds of a si^erer more
gently ; to aUay the agitations of his mind, by pre*
aenting rehgkm as the consoler, not as the distivber
of his dying moments ; or to lead him to try his
actions by a pturer morality than nature er philo-
80{^y ever prescribed. As Dr Manter's journal
of tms convenion is less read than it deserves to be,
and until lately re-printed, was scarcely known in
tUa country to exist, we shall endeavour to com*
prise all of it Uiat is most interesting or valuable
witUn our limits. Nor shall we think it necessary
to offer any apology for sometimes using the Aift>
thor's words in preference to our own, as every
reader will pMceive how much of their dramatic
effect many parts of these interviews would have
lost, had ^e details been given in the form of nar-
rative instead of conversation.

As so<m as Ihr Munter received the King's orw
ders to visit the prison^*, he readily obeyed the
mandate ; hoping, if not to change his opinions, at
least to alleviate his misfortunes, so far as his pro*
fessional skill could avaiL '* I did not know the
man," he observes, ^ nw did he know me ; and
as to our prindpk» and sentiments, they were, to
all appearance, very difoent. I had even to ex*
pect uiat my profeasiony and the intent I visited

114 CONVSRTS FROM INCIDXLITY.

him with, ^ould make him distrust me ; aor, 4m
the other hand, h^ I much reason to pat mf
great confidence in him. However, I entertained
some hopes, that in his present situation he might
find even a conversation with a clergyman not quite
insupportable ; and the compassion I had for him,
would never permit me to prepossess him against
me by severe and ill-lamed eizpostalations. B^dee^
I was told by some of his fonner acquaintance, that
he was open, and in some respects sincere ; I
thou^t it therefore not impossible to establish a
friendship between us, that might promote my in^
tention concerning him. With these hopes I be*
gaa to visit him, and I praise Grod forthe blessing
he has grasfted to my labours."

His primary object was to lay some foundation
for a mutual confidence, es wi^ut that, his in-
structions could have no beneficial result, — ^to as*
certain, if possible, the real sentiments of his dis-
ciple regarding religion; and impress his mind
with tjie importance of the services he had come
to offer.

l^e first visit took place in the b^inning of
March, nearly two months after his im^Mrismiment.
Since his arrest, the Count had r^nained in dose and
solitary confinement in his dungeon, with irons on
his hands and feet, and an iron collar fisstened to
the wall round his neck. But, humbled and let*
tered pa he was in his personal c<mditiion^ his mind
was untondbed with remorse, and nothing seemed
farther froor hiil ihoughts, than the supports of re-
ligion or tlRP'^asitittions of a clergyman. This in*
terview, therefore, was by no m«q|is fiattering, and
did not a«gkur muck success. ^ .When he was
told I was ihere wid unshed to speak to him, he

COUNT STBU£NS£B. 115

isquired whether I came by command ? Being
answered in the affirmatiye, he complied. He r^
oeiyed me with a som* and gloomy countenance,
in the attitade of a man who was prepared to le-
ceive many severe reproaches, with a silence that
shewed contempt. We were alone, and I was
greatly moTed, beholding the misery of a man who,
but a few weeks ago, was the first and the most
power&d of all the IGng's subjects. I could neither
hide my feeling, nor would I. Good Count, said
I, you seie I come with a heart that is sensibly
affected for yon : I know and feel the regard that
is due to an unhappy man, whom Grod, I am sur^
nerer intended to be bcHii for such a misfortune.
I sincerely wish to make my visits, which I am
ordered to pay you, agreeable and useful. Ovur
conversation will now and then be disagreeable
both to you and me ; but I profess most solemnly,
that I shall tell you, even these melancholy truths
which I have to communicate, without severity to
you, but not without pain to i^yself. I know I have
no right to give you any unnecessary uneasiness,
and you may depend upon my sincerity. Should
it happen that accidentally in our conversation, a
word should slip from me which perhaps may ap-
pear offensive, I declare beforehand, tluit it never
was said with such a design ; and I beg, that in
such instances, you will overjodc my predpitap
tion." During these dandid and tender profes-
sions,. tiie Count quitted his severe and affected
attitude, and smoodied his countenance into some«
thing like attentive serenity; but at the same
time, with an air and look that seemed to bespeak
coldness and indifference to the subject, he replied,
f' Oh ! you may say what you please."'

116 CONVBRTS FttOM INFIDKLITY.

Dr Munter obwirved, he itoald say
was not dictated by a concern for his fatore hap
piness ; that he only wished to raise Ins attention
to a consideration of his moral state, and how he
stood in regard to God. ** I had several reasoosy"
says he, " to decline the King's order, which Inings
me to you ; bnt the hope of comforting yon in
your misfortunes, and of advising you- to avoid
greater ones, was too important for me. Do not
charge me with views of a meaner sort* I come
not for my own sake, but only with an int«at of
being useful to you. If you are convinced of
this, you will grant me that confidence, whidi you
cannot refuse a man who is anxious for your welftoe.
I shall return it with the most thankful friendships
although you should in the beginning take me far
a weak and prejudiced man.**

The Count here expressed, with some emotion,
his fall persuasion that these visits were designed
solely for his advantage ; but he had no expecta-
tion of receiving any comfort from them in hit
dying moments, — ^imagining that he possessed su^
fident courage within himself for encountering
that tiying occasion, without the aid of adTenti«
tious supports. ^^ In all my adversities,** said hs^
^ I have shewn firmness of mind, and agreeably
to this character 1 hope I shall die, — not like
a hypocrite." '* Hypocrisy," replied his friend^
<< in such moments, would be still worse than an
affected firmness, though even tUs itself is a kind
o^ hypocrisy. In case of deatli, do not trust to
your former resolution ; and do not compare
your former adversities with that fate whi<ji is
now ready to fall upon you. Do not dwrinh thai
nahappy thooght of dying fike a i^ukMoplikal

SCOUNT 8TRUENSES. 117

4iero, fnr I doubt whether yen vnil be able to keep
it np to the end. 1 am afraid your courage will
•ihen leanEe yon, though yon may force yourself to
«hew it ontwavdly. But peihaps y^m entertain
9(Hne hopes of saving your life?*' ^* No/' said
he, ^ 1 flatter myself with no hopes at all." ^* But
yon do not see death near yon ; yon do not know
the time when yon shall leave the world ; sup-
• pose I was ordered to tell yon that you were to
<Ue to-day or to-morrow, would not your courage
fail you ?" " I do not know," said he.
- HiB friend here endeavoured to impress him
with liie great importance of considering the sub-
ject with attention. ^ It is to prepare you for
.eternity," said he, ^ that 1 chiefly aim,r — ^though I
jnust expect that we are not of the same opinion
in regard to the state of man after ^eath. Yet 1
.cannot help thinking that there never was a time
-when yon were fully convinced that there is no
life to come, and consequently neither rewards nor
^punishments, though you might hare persuaded
yourself ihat there is not. Your inwanl feelings
have frequently contradicted you. The thought
4ii eternity fri^tened you, though unfortunately
yon had art enough to stifle it in the birth." To
this appeal he listened with attention, but would
not own that he ever had any inward impressions
of futurity, or had been afrsdd of it. He ad?
mitted that &e thought of entii*ely ceasing to be,
was disagreeable to him ; for he wished to live,
«ven if it were with less happiness than he now
enjoyed in his prison. But, he added, he did not
find the thought of total annihilation so terrible jbs it
was to many who eutertuned the same sentiments.
. Jiia venmble instructor then proceeded to shew

116 OONVZRTS FBOM niFIOBLtTT.

llie pdsaflnlity of a fatore lifo,-— that there was
at leaBflw mack probability for it as there wai
against ity-*-that even from mere reason, it might be
eyinced that eternity is to the highest degree pro-
bable, nay almost certain ; and ^t even suppos-
ing it only probable, it became a matter of impor-
tance fcNT those who might have canse to fear an
unhappy state hereafter, to prepare themselTes
against it,*or endeavour at least to make tt tole-
rdble. To this he assented, but added, ** You
""will hardly make me believe that th«ne is a future
life : and though you may peibaps convince my
understanding by reasons whidi 1 cannot' over-
throw, my heart, however, will not yield to the
conviction. My opinion is so strcmgly woven
into my sentiments, — ^I have so many arguments
in fieivour of it, — ^I have made so many dbservar
tions from anatomy and physic, which confirm it,
that I think it will be impossible for me to re-
nounce my principles. This, however, 1 promise,
that I will not wilfully oppose your endeavours
to enlighten me, but rather wi^ as far as lies in
my power, to concur with you. I will not dis-
semble, but honestly tell you of what 1 am eoof
vinced, and what not.''

Upon these professions of fairness and honesty,
Dr Munter expressed his wish to be made ac-
quainted with his system of religion, that he m^(fat
be able to judge wherein their opinions differed
'^ I am inctined," he added, << to think you are not
a Christian, and you may easily guess how much
I wish vou to be one. It is not my intention to
force Christianity upon you, but I hope to repr»>
sent it to you as so important and amiable^ that
yoa yownM will think you stand greatly ta need

COUNT STRUBNSKB. 119

of k." To this the Count replied : That it wm
trae -he was veiy far from being a Christiany
thoof^ he acknowledged and adored a Supreme
B^ngy and behoved that the world and mankind
had their origin frouk God. He could never per-
aoade himself that man consbted of two sub-
stances ; but located upon him as a mere machine : (
And though it was Grod that first animated this hu-
man machine ; yet as soon as its motion ceased,
that isy whmi man died, there was no more for him
either to hope or to fear. He did not deny that
man was endowed with some power of liberty, but
his free actions were determined only by his sen^
sations: TherefcHie man's actions could be ac-
counted moral only so far as tbey related to so-
ciety. Every thing that man could do, he be-
iieyed, was in itself indifferent : That God did not
concern himself about om* actions ; and if their
cmisequences were in man's own power, and he
could prevent their being hurtfid to society, no-
body had a right to reproach him about them*
He could not see why ^ture punishments were
necessary to satisfy the justice of God, even though
it be allowed that God regarded our actions ; and
thought that man was punished enough already in
this world for his transgressions.

It seemed necessary, therefore, to expose and
i^lttte the fallacy of that system which consider-
ed man as a vaeie machine ; as upon this theory
nested his condnsicm, that there could be no future
life; a doctrine which at once subverts all religion.
Dr Munter was accordingly at considerable pains
4o unsettle and refute these erroneous notions ;
huit when he had exhausted all his arguments and
wsowngs he ftwnd tbey had produced \mt llitla

120 COKVEHTS FROM 1KFID£LITT.

effect npon his convert ; and htid only ext«
from him, a concession that the hypothesis for
exuitence of the sool was hotter foonded than
contrary ; hut that many good reaaona remai
for his adhering to his former sentiments,
evident, in fact, that this discnsflion was introdi
at too early a stage of their progress. It was
to he expected that dry metaphysical argom
could have much force on the mind of Strue:
in his present situation. He was not comp
enough for cool and dispassionate reflec^n,
prepared to examine and weigb the subject '
deliberation. His spiritual director, there
very judiciously abandoned this method of
cedure, and adopted another and a more suci
fid scheme, by working upon his good feeli
and trying to affect his heart, instead of labon
in vain to convince his understandmg.

He had observed that the ruinous effects o
actions on others, had occasioned him more
gret than his own misery, or the offence he
committed against God ; and having discov
this uneasiness, — ^this tender point, where
wounds of his conscience smarted most, he
hold of the sensation, and made it the objec
attack ; hoping that this salutary regret migh
d^rees become more universal, and extend i
towards his other crimes ; and that by brin
into action those feelings of sympathy and a
tion for his friends, a way might uitinaat^
opened up for the admission of religion,
represented to him how cruelly he had affli
his parents, — how dreadfol the suspense they i
be in about his present condition, and how h
liating to them toe circumstances of his death.

OOUHT 8TRUENSKS. 121

reninded bim how much it was his duty to remoYe
llieir anxiety about his future state, this being the
greatest, and now in his fallen condition, the only
comf^fft on esriAk he could procure them, — that
filial obedience, which as a son it became him to
pay them, was a lesson which he might have
leamt from the heathen philosophers, and from
Confucius himself, whose moral system he had
preferred to that of Christ.

He intreated him to reflect how many his ro-
htptuonsness had ruined I That his example, and
the propagation of his principles had seduced young
men mto profligacy ; many of whom had lost their
characters, mined their constitutions, and even met
their death in the pursuit of illicit pleasures : That
pei^ps destitute widows and orphans, whose bus-*,
bands and fethers had fellen victims to the profli-
gate habits he had taught them, were then crying
to the all-knowing God, against the author of their
nisfortimes : That youthM innocence had often
been sacrificed to his lawless passions ; the ties of ma-
trimony violated, which, according to the unanimous
i^nion of all nations, should be held sacred ; and
children, ^e offspring of his irregularities, were lefl
£t>r want of education or parental care, to become .
a burden and a di^race to society. He represented
to him what confusions, enmities, and law-suits
these would produce, even after his death, in fiir
ttulies that might have remained happy, if he had
left them unmolested ; and that if every one were
to follow his example, human society must neee^
■arily be overturned.

. With regard to his political life, he begged him
to consider, that instead of being spent for tbe good
0i oth^B> it had been ra^r the means to satisfy

12ft O0NV1RT8 VROM INriDl&lTT.

hk own pasnons ; that thoosands bad been nade
unhappy through his ambition, which had ohea pot
him upon dangerous and yiolent measures to keep
himself in office : That he had anogated to hmi*
self an unconstitutional power, lived at a luxurious
expense, and perhaps made too free with the re-
venues of the State : That he was chargeable wiUi
having ^ven new laws inconsiderately, and abo*
lishing established ones'without reason ; withhav*
ing discarded old and approved ministers d the
Crown, and chosen new ones without knowing
them, and trusting them without being sure of
their honesty, merely because he thought ihey
would prove themselves friends and accomplices to
his profligate or ambitious purposes : That the mo-
^^rals of the nation had never been his care ; on the
contrary, he had rather fostered immorality by bad
examples, by giving every facility to commit sin,
and even making laws tending to promote it.

At these reproaches, severe and himiUiatii^ as
they were, the Count seemed to take no offence ;
only alleging occasionally, on certain parts of his
conduct, something by way of excuse or extenua-
tion. The predominating feelings in Ins mind, were
those of regret and humanity, — ^regret for those ac-
tions that had proved so detrimental to society,
and humanity for those friends whom he had pre^
dpitated into the same misery and ruin with him-
self. Reflections on the broken ties of personal
friendship, — the remembrance of pleasures mutu-
ally enjoyed,— and the melancholy prospect in
which they all at last were to terminate, impeared
greatly to interest and soften his heart* This cer-
tainly was the side on whidi he felt most tenderiy ;
$ad scarcely was it touched when hia samibilitMa

comrt sTRtncKSBS. 1S8

▼iflibly overpowered bim, and he Imrst into tearBy
owning, thmt in this respect he found himself veiy
culpable, and was absolutely at a loss to say any
thmg in his own defence. The expression of hu
countenance and his whole attitude, betrayed how
much uneasiness this review and examination of
bb life had occasioned him ; and he appeared to
feel a kind of relief in giving rent, in showers of
tears, to this inward anxiety. ^

He confessed without reserve his private licen*
tioQsness, his success in corrupting the victims
of bis passitm, and even reconciling them to their
vices ; the imprudence and rashness by which he
had brought ruin on his friends, and plunged his
•pueaiM in the deepest affliction ; the ignoble and
impure motives of all his public actions, which i^
lhe eye of reason deprived them of those preteit*
sions to virtue or philanthropy, to which their
outward appearance might seem to entitle theub
^ I cannot deny,'' says he, ^* that I have been a
dangerous seducer. I have often deceived inno«
eence by my principles, and even afterwards reconf
died them, and mside them easy again about their
tnmBgressions. I foolishly persuaded myself that
diBBe ineenlarities were consistent with the laws of
iociBtv ; uiat the great ones in England and France
lead toe same unrestrained lives. As to their im«
Biotality, I never gave that much consideration.
I always believed that it belonged to the clergy to
attend to the morals of the people. I judged of
the sentiments of the nation by my own ; and
iBiagiiied that every one, like myself, looked upon
pleaaare as his only happiness. I am aware that
aanyof my public regulations were precipitate^
mhL fiEwned for aelfish ends ; and now that I con-.

1^ CONVERTS FROM IlSfFIDSLITY.

aider matters moare coolly, I perceive ihey may hvn
been the occaaioa of great mischief. Whhregard
to religion, I wiU not conceal that it has frequently
been witli me a subject of ridicule ; but of tins kind
of inconsiderateness, I have been guilty mostly k
the company of such persons as were already pre-
judiced agamst it. Though I made no seczet of
my irreligion, I never made it my business to make
proselytes. In all this I acknowledge myself cul-
pable before God and my own consdence.**

^ These unfeigned concessions of having done

^ wrong, appeared to be amaterial step towards a more
general and penitential acknowledgment of guilt.
Dr Munter was not insensible of the advantage
which it had thrown into his hands, and looked up-

4||p it as a promising and hopeful augury of his
convert's final reformation. He had already sup-
plied him with an excellent treatise on the inmior-
tality of the soul, and the responsibility of men frar
their actions, which he recommended nim to read
with attention. This tended powerfully to onlightoi
and rectify his mind on these subjects ; and when its
arguments were followed up by a subsequent con*^
vm«ation on the comparative merits of the two
systems, — ^that which would degrade man to the
level of the brute creation, and that which elevates
him to th^ image and resemblance of his Maker^— .
the effect of the whole was to render a future ex-
istence not only probable, but highly desirable.
The Count admitted that the evid^ces in its £iiu«
vom* were irresistible.

Having kindled in the breast of has disciple a
h<^ and a wish for immortality, Dr Munter wisely
declined entering into minut^ disquisitions respect*

ing the nature and separate eustence of the Boulf

COVKT 8TRUBNSSX* 1S5

liil theM «p6ciillittv« traifas should lead them from
ihek Kuaa object, into researcheB that might tend
raUier to p^iex and bewilder, — to quench instead
of dierisoing and fanning the smoking flax into
warmer desires, and brighter anticipations. It was
enough for his purpose in the meantime, that he
iMid brought him to acquiesce and believe in the
existence of eternity. This deception, — the per^^
Auasion <^ there being no future life, — ^which had
hitherto rendered him insensible to moral distinct
tions, and deluded him into a false and fieital secu«>
ntfy being removed, the main pillar that supported
his system fell in consequence to the ground.

It was no difficult matter now to convince hiin
^lat his notions of the morality of actions, with re*
finrence to their good or bad effects to sodetyt
most be altered and rectified before he could pro*
uise himself the happiness of that future life^
whicfa he sincerely hoped and wished for. ^^ Ac*
cording to your former principles," observed his
reverend friend, *^ and even by your own* rule of
judgment, your aotkniB have been proved to be
immoral, and incapable of standing the test. But
suppose you had to reproach yourself only with
being the caose of all the misfortunes of your
friends, it must assuredly be very difficult or ra^
dier impoBsible, even <m that ground, to bear the
ecrtttmy of God s stricter account.*' ^' I acknow*
ledge this,*' said he, ^ and therefore shall say no-
ting to exeme myself before God, and I hope he
will not demand this of me. I trust in my repen*
met and his naocey. Do not you think that God
Wil forgive me on account of this philosophical
repentanos?" ** AcantUng to my notion of re*
** pepKed the mdm^ " I caa ^v« ^u tia

1^ CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY.

hopes. I know but one way to receive Qod^
pardon, and this is not by a philosophical, but by
a Christian repentance. I cannot yet produce this
reasons why I am obliged to think so, but if yon
only reflect on God's mercy in which you trust,
yon will find that it is this very mercy wmch makes
It necessary for him to be just, and to shew his
aversion to moral evil. Such mercy as that of
God, which <»nnot degenerate into weakness, must,
no doubt, be v«y terrible to him who has offended
against it.**

The impression which these representations bad
made on the mind of the Count, could now no
longer be resisted or concealed. He was con-
cerned about his moral condition ; more, howeyer,
from the danger he saw himself in, than on ac-
count of haying offended and incurred the dis*
pleasure of God. To increase this sensibility and
uneasiness, and to represent the gross immorality
of his conduct, as weU as the perversity of his mo-
tives, in their true light, he was shewn how fiaulty
and untenable his theory had been, as to the mo-
rality of human actions ; — ^that their mere relation
to society was a false criterion to judge them by,-—
that to determine their goodness or badness by
our own impressums, was an unsafe maxim, since
the passions biassed the judgment, and were al-
ways ready to supply us with various excuses,—
that the weakness and narrow bounds of the un-
denBtaading, rendered it iinpossible for us always
to foresee er regulate their consequ«ices,--4hat a
higher and more perfect rule must necessarily bo
supposed, which nde is only to be found in the will
of the Diety, whose understanding is. infinite, afid
Bot tnbject, like ours, to be warped by enrofa or

COUNT STRUENSfiB. 1^7

infirmitiefl^ and who will not pennit his diyiiie
k(ws to be trei^Mussed with impunity. This standard,
Be was informed, was contained in the ScriptoreSy
whidi he could not fiBul to have discovered, had
he but read them even with the slightest atten-
tion ; that it was confirmed by the dictates of na-
tural conscience, as might be seen in the most
iguOTant and savage tribes, who, conupted as they
are by custom and education, yet still retain, amidst
all their barbarism, fragments of this original law
written on the heart, and will reason on some ac-
tions more soundly than civilized nations, whose
moral sense has been biassed and tainted by their
habits and prejudices.

The Count henceforth admitted unequivocally
the fiedlacy of his own moral theory, and owned
that the notion of morality was not a consequence
of education, prejudice, or custom, but bom with
us, and laid deep in our nature : that it took its ori-
gin from our Creator; and that, by the dictates of
this inward feeling, we were informed of the will
of God, in regard to good or bad actions. The
inference to be drawn from this was, that since he
had transgressed against a higher authority than
that of human laws or civil institutions, in order
to qualify himself for mercy and forgiveness, it
was necessary to try his former life by a severer
test, and to acknowledge his faults and crimes :
that if he wished to die in the peace and confi-
dence of a Christian, there was no other possibi-
lity of attaining this fortitude and tranquillity of
soul, than by fulfilling those conditions which God
in his word had laid down to us, as the only terms
for our receiving his pardon.

The doubts imd apprehennons in which he was

198 OONVBltTfi I^RdM minoisLiTT.

Botr implicated, and which freqneiilly agitatod Uai
e^F^nto tears, made Christianity appear necessaiy to
y m, and he renHy wished it mi^t comfmt him m
hm test moments, though he still imagined it im-
poasible to be fully conrinced of its tra^ At tile
eame time, he was aware that his own system
could ha^e lent him but a tottering support ; and
had renounced his former principles, once deemed
indisputable, which had made 1dm resotre to i^
proach death without fiurther scrutiny, and eToA
without receiving a visit or an advice from any
clergyman. As he had professed, however, to be
•can^, and to state without di^uise whatever in
the Clnistian religion appeared objectionable or
incredible, he proposed at the very outset what
seemed to him to be a sort of inoonsist^M^ dt
eontindiction, — that Christianity could not be ^'
only way revealed by God for our everlasting hap-
piness, seeing it was so little known among maft- j:/
kind ; and even among Christians themselves there
were oomparatively few that kept its precepts. J
*ro dus Dr Munter thought it sufficient at pre*
-sent to remark, that it was but a weak inference '
•gainst the goodness »(id justice of God, his not
revealing to all men a doctrine which is the only
one t^iat can render them happy ; sinoe we did
not know whether Grod would not save those
who are ignorant of Christianity, by its di^ensa-
tionS) if they bdiaved.as web as lay in their
power; and that it could be no reason for a
man, whom God had presented with « blessing )
which he had denied to others, to reject this bkes- 7
i»g, or not to value it, becaose God had not fjiwem it J
to all men. All the blessings of his pforidenoe were
dutnbatoi unecpaMy wnon^ uea : for huilaace^

COUNT 8TRUENSEB. 129

iHHiaVi riciies, liealthy talents, and eyen the know-f
ledge of natiural religion ; so that this ohjection ;
defeated itself, by proving more iJian he intended, j
Neither was it a more rational inference to con-
clndey that because Christianity was observed by
so very few, llierefore it cannot be a sufficient
Hiea&s to answer the purpose God intended it for,
and consequently its origin cannot be a divine one.
Cfaristiamty, it ought to be observed, was the re-
ligion of free beings, whose belief must be the
result of conviction, and not of force or compulsion ;
and who are under no controul in a matter which
concerns their haziness. Besides, prejudices, eirors^
and passions, can render the strongest moral argu*,^-
ments ineffectuaL However, it cannot be denied
that mankind, upon the whole, since the establish*
ment of the Christian religion, have been greatly
refmned, and that its power over the human
mind is stronger than many seem to credit. ^^

^* But,*' interrupted the Count, ^^ even good .
ChrisSSois often comnut sins. Shall, or can s .
man in this world be perfect ; and is it the inten-
tion of Christianity to produce effects, which in j
our present condition are quite impossible?"/
^^ There is a great difference,** was the reply,
** between the sins of a true Christian, of whom
only we «peak, and between the crimes of a wicked
man ; the former falls but to rise again, — the latter
continues in his transgressions, and repeats thenu
And if there was but one Christian only up<m
the whc^e earth, whose life dkd honour to his pro-
fession, it would be a sufficient reason for every
one diat knew him, to examine the religion of this
single Christian, and to adopt it if it were found
well-grounded.** The doul^ of the Coimt were

180 CONVERTS FROM INFIDBLITT.

by no means yet satisfied, tfaoogfa lu8«arexpr^
•a anxiety and concern that seemed to enoottrage
the hope of his soon becoming a Christian.

Before conducting him, however, into the doc»
trines of the Grospel, Dr Munter tiionght it better
to direct his attention to its precepts, and ^tn^ ex-
cellency of its morals; not doubting that if he
was first conTinced. of this, its mysteries, if bid
before him as Scripture proposes them, s^arated

from human explications, would no longer i^ipear

improbable or unworthy of credit. He teqiMsted
him to study tiie history of Christ as a man , to
examine his moral character^ — his innocenco— his
disinterested benevolence — his heroic death — buIk
jects which his bitterest enemies could never
challenge, and ^diich had extor ted praise and ad-
numtion even fix>m Voltaire and Rouaseau. At
the same time, to assist him in his meditatimis,
he presented him with a history of the Life of
Chnst, and Gellert's Lectures on Morality. These
he read in private, and their influence soon be-
came visible, from the altered tone in which he
spoke. <^ Had I but a year ago," he exclaimed,
^ read sach books in retirement from dissipa-
tion, I should have been quite another man.
The morals and personal conduct of Christ are
exoellrait. The first are undoubtedly the best
maxims for men to make themselves happy in all
situations in life. Here I have met with many
tiiingB that have affected me much. I should be
quite unreasonable not to own that I ought to
have lived as this book teaches me. Had I but
made them m^ companions in the days of my pros-
perity, I am sure it would have convinced and
Miefoaxmd ma. I cannot seriously eno«igh repoDi

ooinrr strueksxs. ISl

of ImTiiig led to bsd a life, and of haying acted
upon audi wicked principles, and used means so
detrimental. My present condition, and even my
death, do not concern me so much as my hase
actions ; and it is quite impossible to make any
repentticni for what I have done to the world."

His attitude was now completely dianged into
penitence and humility. He expressed in his
ooont^iance the shame, sorrow, and uneasiness
diat overwhelmed him. Frequently he would
•tart,^ on a sudden, from the couch on which he
used constantly to lie,-?— then sit for half-an-hour
together, hanging down his head, buried in deep
diought, sobbing and shedding many tears. His
foriom condition excited the sympathy and com-
passion of his assiduous visitor, who, though it
was yet too early to soothe him into absolute re-
pose, by encouraging any thing like presumptuous
assurance, nevertheless gave him to hope that his re-
pentance might not be too late ; since, with regard
to pardon and acceptance with God, there was no
distinction between those who came early, and
those who came late, if mercy was sought in feith
and sincerity.

Of ms imfeigned penitence, no doubt almost could
now remain. The manner in \diich he spoke of
his past life, — ^the remorse with which he waa
touched, and the anguish he felt from the ra-
proaches of conscience, all seemed to indicate
that he was in earnest. But he was reminded
that neitiier repentance alone, nor reparation of
injuries, nor amendment of life, those means which
natural reason recommended for obtaining pardon,
were sufficient to expiate our sins before God, or
ntiaiy divine justice : That were a judge to \i8r-

132 CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY.

lion ereiy criminal upon his shewing signs of grief,
or even serious repentance, it would augur weak-
ness, or perhaps goodness, rather than wisdom and
justice^ or a due respect for the qualities that hefit
the judicial character.

He was told, that though he could not repair
. the damages he had done, because he was so near
eternity, he nerertheless could still do somethii^
which resembled, in some respects, a reparation ;
which was, that he should cnodeavour to eflbce
those bad impressions he had made on the minds
of the people^ by shewing himself now qmte a dif-
ferent man in his conversation, and his whole
behayiour. To this he remarked, that he had al-
<; ready thought that to be his duty ; that he hear^
wished he could only contribute smnetlung to-
wards the reformation of those of his friends whose
morals he had com^ted by his example and his
conversation: that he had spoken to an officer
about the moral doctrines of Christianity, and ex-
horted him to obey them strictly, though in seve-
ral respects he was not yet himself fully eon-
vinced.

He had received in course of these eonvexsa-
tions, one or two very affecting letters from his
parents, reminding him of the paternal admoni^ons
and good examples he had seen and ^eard m his
youth— expressing their grief and concern about
his present unhappy circumstances— and recom-
mending him to humble himself before Gad for
his crimes, and fly for refuge to the blood of the
Redeemer. The gentle remonstrances and tender
solicitations conveyed m these letters, affected him
most deeply. He wept in reading them, and
I^^ged his friend to 'wnte, aasuring them tbal he

OOUNT STRUENSBE. 133

was ccmseiaas ef the afflictions his misconduct had
occasioned ibewt ; hnt that he heartily repented,
and would do his hest to die like a Chnstian.

As he was now better prepared for being made
acquainted with the arguments in favour of the
tm^ of Christianity, haying admitted its excel-
lence^ and desired its consolations, Dr Mimter had
no longer any hesitation in entering fuUy into the
snbject with him. He observed ^t there were
two ways to become convinced of the tmlAk oi
Christianity. The first was a constant practice of
Christ's precepts ; by which a man may be con-
vinced by his own experience of the excellency oi
his religion. The other was a candid examina-
tion, whether Christ had. proved himself to be a
true messenger of God, by delivering a doctrine
worthy of God, and by performing imdoii^ted
miracles. As to his doctrines, he had himself
OMmed, that they were truly divine ; and if his s»-
soirection, the greatest of his miracles, could be
proved, it followeiT of course that the rest of his
miracles were tnste, or at least might be so» It was
necessary, he told him,, that he should himself exa-
mine the evidences in behalf of this miracle, and
that for this purpose he should give him a book,
^West's Obseorations on the Resurrection of Jesus
Christ^, written by a deist, who was induced to '
tnm Christian after eyamining the history of the"
vesurrection.

West's treatise, together with Burnet Vphiloso^
^ncalexamination of t^e arguments for Christianity,
proved highly satisfiM^tory, and tended to remove
Hiany of the ignorant and perverse scruples he
had ent^tained. The foUowing arguments of
West made a dde/p impression^ on his und^rstand-

M

1S4 CONVKRTS FROM HmDBLITT.

ing : That tbe disciples of Christ were not credii' \ \
loQSy but with difficulty were cQuvinced ei the i»* \ \\\
surrection of Christ, by the unammons testimoBy/ '
of idl their senses : That the Jews never exaauued
tEe affau* judicially, though they had the best op*
portunities for it, and had an interest in shewing
It to be fictitious: That the propagation of tilt
gospel must be considered as another argument for
the truth of the resurrection ; since, if it had not
been certain that Christ was risen, Christiantty
could not have spread so rapidly and so fiar as it did.
In this respect die doctrine of Mahomet was not
to be compared with the religion of Christ.

Upon inquiring whether any testimonies <if this
event were to be met with in heathen anthofs, the
Count was informed that it was mentioned in Tfr*
citus, Suetonius, Pliny, and Josephus, though the
genuineness of the passage in the latter historian
has been disputed.

The wonderful harmony and ccnncidence be-
tween the Old Testament and the New, in r^iaid
to man's redemption, was next-pointed out to him ;
the several passages of the prophets explained,
which corresponded with the evangelists ; the in-
trepid honesty that characterized both 4he founder
and first apostles of the Christian religion, who 8»>
crificed their lives to confirm the truth of what they
preached: These furnished evidence that could
nardly fail to prepossess «very unprejudiced mind
in favour of the credibUity of tbe go^>el hisfeory.
Had Christ meant to impose upon the Jews, was
the remark of the Count, he would have con-
formed to their prejudices, availed himself of the
literal magnificence with vHiich he was prefignrad
in aadieaiii prophecy, tad appealed among thain k

OOUKT STRUENBKB. 1S5

iki dHanMler of a worldly h&<^ Bui he had em«
pKoyed quite different means. He agreed that it
was impossible for an impostor to act thoroughly
the part of an honest man ; andlhat there were pro-
phecies which, in regard of their being fulfilled,
did not depend mitirely upon Christ : For instance,
ikmr casRtiag lots on ois garments, and his being
emcifiecL One as weH as the other depended on
aoddenti^ drcumstanees ; for if the Romans had
not been at that time masters of Jerusalem, he
night net faav« been crudfied, but rather atoned
todetfk

The several Scripture passages that treat of
■nn's redeniption, were dfligenUy canvassed and
o em p a re d with each other. Dr Munter endea-
voured to-prove that this redemption, as taught in
the ^ble, does not contradict any of God's attri-
butes, and is in all respects adapted and suitable
to the conditiDn of falXea man : that it rather glo-
rified the Divine perfSoctions, and was absolutely ^^
aeoesiary to human happiness. He entreated hu
l^niteBt moat earnestly to convince himself of thia
^ief doctrine of Christianity, that there is no ssl-
vation widKWkt Christ, and to embiaee it for Ina
awn efveriasliBg welfare. <* I shall i«»e no diffi-*-^
eukies^" reCumed the Count, ** but do as mudi as
I GHi to become convinced of a doctrine whidi
mnat he of so gnat inmortaBce to me. I have no
other hopes but from this quurtxae only, md why
alMNdd I not be deeiroua of partakiiig thereof? I
fomo-ly thought that whoever ^nbiuoed Christi-
antty ww to renounoe all reason ; but I now see
plainly liMtt nothing atttids more to riaaon thau it '
does, i pramiae that I shall do my utmost to
miJBa aiyuiBtuoMiiti confonwabie to the will of

136 CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY.

God ; and I sincerely wish I may haye a lively sen-
sation of the comforts of religion.'' Upon thk lat-
ter subject he was cautioned not to be too san-
guine, since the particular circumstances in which
he was placed might perhaps create fear and anxiety
towards the close of his life. Besides the natural
horror of dissolution, there were the appalling ac-
companiments with which his death would be at-
tended, and the consciousness of having by his own
crimes been the cause of his misfortunes ; these
feelings religion might not altogether remove, but
it would comfort hun by a calm and hopeful pro»-
pect into eternity.

At a subsequent interview, they resumed the
consideration of the doctrine of the atonem^it,—
the objections which reason might oppose to it,-r-
the manner in which it illustrates the divine per-
fections, — and its absolute necessity to human
happiness. The result of this conversati<m was a
complete triumph over the remaining sophistry and
scepticism of the Coimt, who now for the first
time, with tears in his eyes, professed himself a
convert and a believer. <* I should be guilty,"
said he, ** of the greatest folly, if I would not em-
brace Christianity wil^ joy, when its arguments
are so overbalancing, and when it breathes such
general benevolence. Its ejSects upon my heart
are too strong. Oftentimes I cannot help crying
when I read the history of Christ. I think already
with hope on my death. I have acquainted my-
self with the most terrifying circumstances. I do
not know how I shall be when the awful hour
oomes ; but at present I am not uneasy about it {.
I jfind nothing that makes me anxiously wish for
aim iifo, I will confidently expect foigiveneas of

I

comt ftmtmirsiHu 197

^■7 MM tbroogh Oxtk^ I refled wilh grief tnd
teygHBtion im my fonder idea, that pediaps li^v
wm no eternity ; and I fed it woiddbea Tery itli-
hKppy prospect, if all my widna and expectations
•of fatntity should he Tain. I hare now examined
Chffistiaiiity iinth greater exactness tiwn I e^er dkt
my old system, and hy Mb ^samination I am eott-
▼inoed of its tmdi. I therefore wiH remain firm ;
neitiier my Ibrmer praicipleB nor new doubts ehiU
htenoefortii sti^giMr me."

This dedaiatioii was listened to hy his anxious
confessor, wilih feelings of lUptmre and gratitade.
They embtaced each othw in a kind of transport.
They prayed together i&cvcady, << The scene/*
-aays he, '^ was moving to me beyond description.
Never felt I such joy ; never have I been so sw^
-ef having brought hack a sinner from his errors.
I shall never forget this solemn and joyM hoar ,
and never ceaase to praise God for it."

The Bible henceforth became his deUght, and
his constant ^study. He frequently prayed to God
to eidighten his mind, and to confirm him m the
truth. He began to entertain the office^ that^
guarded him wi<li religious conversation. He
kmged for an op yort«mty to dedare his conne-
tion to aM his former acquanitances, eflfemaUy
CooBt firandt; and wished t^ lliose whom he
had seduced nn^ht be bought in like manner to
idter liKir sentiments. He was imtiished, accoi4*
iBg to^ tfWn lequest, with books en the authen-
ticity of >die samd wndngs, proving them to
lisve heen 1^ productions of the inspired penmen
to whom tiiey are attributed, l^e excellent works
tX Dr Less, professor of theology at Gottingen,
« Ihe TtaHi of tiM Claistaa iUMgion, he teed

m2

138 CONVERT/! FROM IMFIDELITT.

witli great advantage, particnlarly these pvis itial
ireat of miracles. The solidity of the argnmeiilB
there advanced, confirmed his belief in the reality
of the miracles recorded in the New Testament
and consequently in the credibility of the doo*
trines they were intendecl to prove. He penned,
with much interest, Newton^s Dissertation on the
Fkttphecies, a subject which he had expressed a
wish to become acquaintetl witli ; ami was pleased
to find many pre<lictions, not merely concerning
Christ in particular, but whole naUons, fulfilled in
tlie most satisfactory manner.

<' An unexceptionable evidence,** he observes,
^* is as certain as our own experience ; and whoevtf
wants the latter testimony, may consider the pre-
sent state of the Jews who are living witnesses to
the truth of Christ's prophecies. No persecution,
oppression, or contempt could ever induce this
people to mix with otlier nations, or to adopt tlieir
manners and customs. Tlie wonders by which
Cluist lias confirmed his divine mission, can hb
proved with the same certainty. They were per-
formed witiiout any preparationsy^-without any cir-
cumstances that might liave imposed upon tlie
senses,-— without any previous expectation, — b^ore
a number of incredulous spectators, in such a man-
ner tliat no imposition can possibly be suspected.
They were, besi<les, of such a nature, tliat every
man of common understaiKling might p«t!eive
that those means which were made use oif, never
could of tliemselves produce such effects. A man
lioni blind receivetl his Higlit,— -one tliat had been
four ilays in the grave came to life again, — a para-
lytic was re8tore<l to health ; and all this by only
/fpeaking a word. If we were to suppose that in

/

-COUNT 8TRUENSEB. 139

•the legttlar eourse of nature, such a thing was to
liiippeB just at this time, or that God produced
.these events by the interposition of Almighty
|>ow^9 it follows, in ik^ first instance. That Christ
most have been informed of it before ; and in the
teotmdj That God heard him : both of which are
e^pially a miracle, and a proof of his divine mis-
sioiid— -Of these facts, and others upon which the
truth of revelation is founded, I am now as sure
as if I saw them before me. When a numb^ of
credible witnesses agree in diin^ in lil^ich our
aenies only are concerned, I am as much con-
vinced of them as if I knew them from my own
expedience."

Erom the short Biention made in Lees's book of
the chief deistical writings, he foimd that the
x>bjection8 made against revelation, were so very
trifling, that he fdt ashamed of having suffered
himself to be imposed upon by such insignificant
arguments. ^* I never imagined,** says he, *^ that
Cluristianity was founded upon such strong evi-
dences, or that they would liave convinced me so.
. After a calm examination, I have found them to be
unexoeptiooable; and none, if they only take propw
time, and are not against the trouble of meditat-
ing, can «ver examine it without being convinced
of its truth. Every thing is naturally and we\l
connected, and recommends itself to a mind given
to reflection. I never found in deisticd writings
a system so well connected ; aod upon the whole,
1 am inclined to believe that tliere is no such thing
as a regular system of infitlelity^ — The more I read
ami learn from Scripture, the more I grow con-
vincetl how unjust tliosc objections are wliich Chris-
tianity is charged with, i find, for instance, th^t

•,'.

!• :■■:-. . .. .1

140 CONVBRTS FROM IK^DfeLITY.

ill wliicb Voltaire says of the intolel»)!ioe of tb
Christians, and of bloedHshedding, oantoc^ hy
Chnstkntty, is a Tery mipist diarge laid vpoa relSt'
^on. It is eefly to be tseen, that^mae cmeltiea said
to be caased by religion, if prope'ly coBBideied,
were the prodaction of hmnan passion, selfislmssi^
and ambition ; and that religion seired in sadi eases
only for a doak. To be ceniinoed of this, one
'fkeed only read the history of liie <Si^mt tnonao^
tions of the Spaniards in Amsnca.**

rVom this time there was a considerable altera^
tion in ibe manner of the Count, yimble to aU who
attended him. There was a certain cakmiees and
serenity of mind that seemed to arise from die
hope that God JPor Christ's sake would pardon his
sins. But to do away every Iraid of ^itfausias^
confidence, and to remove aU sne^icicms of hm
trusting to ill-grounded expectatrans, he was ie-
ninded not to allow himself to be cacrried away by
a too sudden composure of mind, and notto-forget^
since he had hopes of being pardmied before God,
what he had been before Us convamon ; -else his
former carelessness might gain poww over hun Again,
ixnd obstruct his endeavours of conforming Inmself
to the will of God ; which might cause hmi«-gteat
'deal of.uneasBtess at the dose of his life. Abdash^
•■lipeared to entertain the idea that some
feeUngs or ^dications of his being pardeoed
Bcco oo a ry, he was told not to rely implicitly on in-
ward sensations, which, though not idwayv fiUse
aymptoms, were matters of great uncertainty, and
not to be regarded as unequivocal consequences of
£suth and repentance : That the best and most oer*
tain conviction of our being pardoned, was to ba
€oaiKknB ^kaX w^ TCfoat of ova mm ainomlyi

, COUNT STRUEN8EE. 141

that we acknowledge Christ to be our Redeemer^
tint we perceive our progress in holiness, and that
we most earnestly endeaFour to conform our sen-
timents and actions to the iaw of God : that who-
erer might think other sensations to he necessary,
was in danger of being carried away by entiiii-

> The Comt relied, that he iaever could endmie
enthusiasm in religion, and that this was one great
reason tiiat made him averse to Christianity for-
meily; fnr he remembered to have seen many,
who gave lihemselves ont as illnminated and con-
▼erted, lead very wicked and inmioral lives, to the
scandal of religion, and the public triumph of its
enemies. But that, in his own case, he haid not for
•ne moment judged of himself too indulgently :
that be reflected on his sins with horror and de-
testation, and had not ceased to repent seriously
•f them. And upon calmly reviewing his situa-
tion before his downfal, when he enjoyed his sen-
anal {Measures, he confessed that he was now far
B'.<ire luqipy than when he was in his greatest
outward prosperity. ^ I feel the power of the
gospel,'' says he, '* in quieting my conscience, and
reforming my sentiments ; and l^ugh ddgfat emo-
tioBs ^ the passions by whidi 1 once was ruled^
adtt sometunes disturb me, 1 find no ddight in
them, but endeavour to suppress them inune-
diately. I detest my extravagances, even those
wfaidi gave me pleasure ; and 1 believe, that in
case I had an opportunity of indulging myself
again, I should not conunit them. 1 am reiady to
eonvince you, by any test that you may demand of
me^ to shew how ready I am to sacrifice my for-
affections. Never should I have done so

U% CONVERTS FttOM iMFfDtfUTT.

befero I WM epligbtened by rdigioik I 6e mfc
know- whether thn is a sufficient reMon lor you tft
be-sati^ed with me. Try me in what manasr
yea may think proper ; and if yom are satisfied^
do not mind if others should judge otherwist^-
and say you. had attempted, to bring me oieer hf.
reasoning."

He was aware the vrorid Wodid not give bk»
the credit he deew?ed for tiie sincerity ^ hia
penitence^ — tiBttt they woidd perhaps regard hie
confessions as extcnrted fix>m him by the impoitv-
nities and declamations of . an aidoudest, whidi
had inflamed his imagination^ rather than con-
▼ittced Ins imderstandmg.; and- ^ak his alteredl
sentiments would be represented as the effect ei
terror or melancholy, rather than of argument.
In opposition to these uncliaritable uid inja-
riouft surmises^ he as8^!ts that Ms coni4cti<m. did
not resvdt from- oreiheated feelings, or rhetoridil^
figures, but from cooLr^ection, and an impartial
investigaticMi of the truth; whidb are the only.
Hiethods consistent with the freedom^of human
xeasoD, and worthy of reHgion^- Any other aC^
tempt to conquer lus prejudices, or convince him
of his errors, he was persuaded, would have had a
qake-contrary ^fect. This he repeatedly stated to
Dr Munt^. ^' I acknowledge it,** says he, ^* witb
gratitude before Grod, that you:todc thia method.
In no other manner could you have prevailed
with me ; I would have opposed you with oblrti-
nacy. Perhaps some impression imght have been
made upon me ; but a solid and lasting eonvictiett
never could have be«[i brought about. Boaid ea»
God cannot be displeased, since religion is so re**
sombidf that men are gained over by leaMHi

CXHJNT STRUINSEE. 143

GbAa himiBdf acted so ; and Paal accommodated
klmsdif ait Athens, and^Woro Felix and Agrippa,
lo the way o( thinking of those he had to deal
sviih. 1 hope tibe manner in which I came to
idler my Bentiments, in r^ard to religion and
▼krtue, will raise the attention of those who think
aa I formerly did. The deists will never trust
the coBYersion of their hrethren, which is brought
about in the latter days of their life. They say
tbey^ireiaken by surpdse through the deelamar
tioiia of the cl^^^nnan ; they have lost their rea^
aon ; they are stupid or frantic, by the viol^ace
of tfa^ illness ; the fear of death made them ig-
niMBnt of what they did. But now, since I came
to learn Christianity in the manner I did, nobody
shall say so. I have examined the Christian reli-
gion during a good stated health, and with all the
reason I am master of. I tried every argument, —
I felt no fear, — ^I liave taken my own time, — and
I have n<^ been in haste/'

The Count had now adopted the doctrine of
Christ 8 redemption as his oidy comfort, and the
only sure foundation of his hc^>es. His &ith,
throng earnest prayers to God fw enlightening
his mind, had surmounted all his specious ob-
jections against the gospel ; and every a«bsequeia^
examination into its nature and divine origin, only
added fresh cm^rmaticm to his belief Tlie other
doctrines and mysteries connected with the atone-
ment, he was now prepared to acknowledge ; and
in Older to do away any doubts or nusapprehen-
flione on the subject, Dr Munter thought -it advis-
aUe to ex;dain shorty to him their reasoaableness
and their usefulness. He shewed him the benefi-
oent intention of revelation in restinog natund

144 CONVERTS VROM INPID^ITY.

religion among men, which was nearly lost, and in
making discoyeries nnknown to mere reason, bat
which for the happiness of men, weve necessary to
be known : That mysteries were not contrary to
this design, bnt rather consistent with the ehano-
ter of a religion that proposed to teadi- more than
unassisted reason could do, — such as the Trinity
of ^ Grodhead, — ^the incarnation and Scmship of
Christ, — ^the miracles he wrought, as the Greden-
tials of his being a messoiger of Grod,-— the in-
scrutable wisdom and incompreheosibla efficacy of
the atononent, &c

It^ was not therefore to be wondered at, thal-'tbis
reyelation should open up to us prospects which
our eyes could not otherwise fully discern ; or in
other words, that it should teach mysteries, and re-
quire- our faith to believe them. And ho who
would for this reason decline adopting tiie Chris-
tian religion, shewed himself unacquainted with its
intention and its object. Ho did not do that jus-
tice to religion which he does to other sciences:
For though they contain more mysteries than rel^
gion ever did^ he nevertheless does not object to
them. In physic, chemistry, and philosophy, for
instance, thousands of incomprehensibilities are to
bo met with ; but nobody on this account ever
thinks them to be akogeuier dreams and decep-
tions. Besides, the very nature of these mysteries
was such as not to be exactly conveyed- in the ks-
guage of man, nor rendered intelligible in their firil
signification, to his narrow and limited conception,
through such an imperfect medium. It was suffi-
cient that they did not contradict reason ; their
purpose was beneficial to mankind ; it tended to
the manifest advantage of every one to beliefe

COUNT 9TRUENSEE. 145

*the«ii ; ood th^ie w«fi im obligation impHed in the
toverence thai wa» due to the testimony and av-
tbority of Hun who revealed them*

The9e reasons appeared to the Comt entirely
MIfebfactory, and he was ready to admit those doc
trines that were inexplicable, because they wer^
parts of the same system, and founded on the same
dinne authority* ^ The more we think upon
these mjrstertes," says he, ^< the more oi divine
wisdom we diseoTer in them* I^et ns only avoi^
isldng every whei<e^ Why ? We must rest aatis'
fied with the avthoiity of their author. Even in
human sdeneos, ibis modesty i9 reqointe ; oIgmbt
we never should come to any certainty. i/Lo$ii
common things may employ aU omr researohes for
aB ear lifetime, before we ^scover the first, crae^^:

As to the thecn'etical parts of Chrkt's reHgian,iifr
was now fuUy convi)u^ ; and sinc^al^-wished to be
the same as to ^ practical-parts of it ; although »|i
IsUa reqpteot he professed hk readiness to do any
tiling dmanded of him* '^ I own with joy, I find
Cln*&ti»aity m<»« amiable the more I get acquainted
irith it. I nover knew it before. I believed it con-
irodioled reascm and the nature of man, whose reli.>
giim it was designed to he. I thought it an artfully
contrived and ambiguous doctrine, ^1 of incompre-
bensilnlities. Whenever I formerly thought on reHr
gion in some serious moments, I had always an ide^
in my mind how it ought to be, vie. that it should be
flimple^ and aeeommedated to the eif cumstances of
men in every ctmditicm. I now fed Christianity to
be exactly so ; it ans wtm entirely that idea which I
had formed of true religion. Had I hut formerly
known it was'suth, I should not have delayed
turning Christian till this time of my imi^i\|i^niyr

VOL, J, H

k

146 CONVBRTS FROM IKFIDELITY. .

ment. But I had the misfortime to be prejudiced
against religion, first through my own passions, but
afterwards likewise through so many human in-
ventions foisted into it, of which I could see plainly
that they had no foundation, though they w^e
st^ed essentia] parts of Christianity."
' xle professed to have no other hopes of pardon
than wnat are founded on (rod's word ; and was con-
vinced that there are nomeans of obtaining it but the
merits of Christ. '^ I shall strive to qufdify myself
for this through sincere &ith in my Redeemer; and
I pray God to strengthen me in tins respect, since
I find within myself nothing but incapacity and
weakness. The saving of my life, and all oilier
temporal emoluments, appear to me but very smaU
in comparison of everlasting happiness. I derive
all my comfort in my last moments from religion;
and, supported by that confidence which I place in
God, I hope to die with a Christian-like resolu-
tion. Formerly, perhaps, I might have been able
to die with an outside appearance of firmness ; but
I believe it would only have been i^ecjjation, and
totally different from that I hope now to maintain
at the hour of death. I have resigned every tiling
like ambition or affected fortitude, and shsill sub-
mit to whatever God has decreed relating to me,
without murmuring and without reluctance. I
cannot bu^ persuade myself, tluit, altliough now in
my fetters, and near a disgracefid end, I am by far
more happy than I was 4n my former grandeur.
My temporal prosperity never procured me that
true tranquillity of mind which I now enjoy in
prison, and in bonds.*'

Among the subjects upon which he frequently
convened, was llie event of his a^roadiingdeadi,

COUNT STRUENSEE. 147

which, he de<;lared, presented nothing drAadfu} to
hkn^ except the appalHng cipcimistances with which
it iadght he attended, since he knew where it was
to conduct him. His increasing faith, however,
supplied him with increasing comfort against those
disqmeting apprehensions. Upon the state of the
mnd after death, and its separate existence, he made
some yery sensible and pertinent remarks : " It
dioald not make me uneasy, if there was even any
tinth in the opini<m Of those who assert that the
squl^ when separated from the body, should be in
a state of obscure ideas and sensations, or in a kind
of sleep. For if my soul was not conscious of it-
self, or was only in a place of security and ease, I
should lose nothing by it. Should this sleep last
a thousand, or eVen ten thousand years, it would
not mgke me unhappy, for, during all this time, I
should be conscious of nothing. However, it is by
§u more agreeable to me, to learn from Scripture,
that my soul, instantly after parting from the body,
ahall enter, conscious of itself, into possession of
its IG^ppmess. — ^The Scripture tells us but little
about die state the soul shall be in, during its se-
paration from the body^ yet even this little is mat-
ter of great ccmifort. If God had found it useful
and necessary to have given us further informa-
tion, he would have done it. It is fully su^icienfj
to quiet my soul, when I know it will be in the \
hand of God." ^

« *^ I find no pleasure in my former notion, that,
perhaps, there is no eternity, and have no persuasion
'Of its being true. . There is not a shadow of pro-
bability left of it; the strong proofs of the con-
•larary are always before my eyes. Besides, I am
«o much* interested in my being at present better

148 CONVERTS rtlOM INFIDkLlTY.

iiiframed, thai I would not part with my convic«'
tion on any account, or act wUfiiUy contrary to it
If hy committing any crime, eran what the world
did not acknowledge to be snch, I could gain the
greatest temporal advantage, I am ccmfident I Bhoold
not commit it« If I was promised for certain that
my life dioujd be spared, and that I i^ouldbe re«
stored to my former situation, under cimdition that
I contradicted the confessions I hare made, and
that I confirmed with an oath my new assertion, I
am sure I should railier jC^e than .contradict tm^
and take sudi an oatli/'

The Count held frequent converdatdons witli hk
apfaitual guide, on the other doctrines and mysterici
of Scripture ; which evineed how well he had made
himself acquaitMied with the arguments in their
favour, and how ready he was .to give a reason fov
the hope that was in him. He temaiked on the
doctrine <^ the resurrection of the body, that he
believed the dbdef objections against it, were started
after it had been positively asserted by Christ
From that time, those who had a bad conscience
became fearful ; and diey endeavoured, by such
objections, to secure themselves against anxious
expectations about their condition hereafter.

He made; irom time to time, many striking and
judicious remariu on the sapred Scriptures ; and
spoke of the inspired penmen,— of their manner of
writing,-— of their probity and simplicity, in terms
of the highest praise. On the style of the Bible,
he observed, that the railleries of the Free-thinkers
about Christ and his doctrine, were plain proofs
that they had no intention of acting honestly. The
impieties and scurrilous blasphemies he had for^
merly read in soma deSni^cii^ VkkiUb^ which had

GOUKT STRUEKSEE. 149

then hindered his progress towards the tiiith,
jclearty convinced him of this. He was of opinion
'that the old and unusual expressions of the Bible,
could not be the true reason why they should think
.them ridiculous, since they do not laugh at otliei*
ancient writings which are written in jsuch a style.
Jf they, Ujit instance, were to read the books of
,C<mfucius, he was persuaded they would not hesi-
tate about his style, but praise his morals. In the
same manner they extdl the fables of iEsop ; but
;the pacablea and narrations of Christ did not please
them : notwithstanding these are derived from a
greater knowledge of nature, and contain more
excellent morality. Besides, they are proposed
with a more, noble and artless simplicity, than any
writings of this kind among ancient or modem
aiuthoi'Si There must be, therefore, something else,
he concluded, that prejudices them against Christ;
. and he knew not what else it could be but thdor
I! heart, which made them av^^ to his precepts.
<< I consider it a kind of folly," he continues,
f^ that the Deists pretend to be offended at th«
humble appearsoicer Christ and the first teachers of
Christianity made. I need not observe that, m relar
tion to God, nothing is either little or great, but
I cannot help remarking, that the humble appear-
ance of Christ was very well adapted to the de-
sign of his mission. The common people looked
upon him as one of their equals, and placed con-
fidence in him. For this reason Christ chose his
apostles an3tf>ng the lower class of mankind, and the
q^iQstles conversed mostly with such. And even
tjbose c^unmon people were as propev spectators
of their miracles, as an assembly of philosophers ;
as they were aU of such a nature, that nothbg

n2

150 CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY.

^ mwe was required to judge of them than the natural
V senaesy and a common tlttie of underatanding. A
pdirate soldier is peihaps more fit for such an ob-
servation, than a general, who has his head full of
d^er things, or thinks it not worth his whDe to
attend to it. The eyidence which is giren by men
of common understanding inbdialf of Cfanst's mim-
des, is therefore worthy of credit. The learned and
the philosophors can now consider those facts, and
examine whether they are real miracles, and then
determine how far they are in &your of Christ and
his doctrines.^'

He commended the Epistles of St Paul, and
observed, that he was a writer of great genius, and
possessed much wisdom and true philosoj^. Ht
was particularly, pleased with his decirion of the
disputed question, whether it was lawful to eat
what was sacrificed to idols ? and said it did hon-
our to his prudtoce. Of the Apostolical wiitiogs
in general, he confessed, he admired them ^
more, the more he became acquainted with them.
He thought the authors expressed themselves ex-
tremely well, now and then with inimitable beauty,
and at the same time, with simplicity and clear-
ness. After quoting several passages, particularly
from the eigh& chapter to die Romans^ he added,
** I should like to see otber publicans and teat?
makers write in the same manner as the Evan-
gelists and Apostles did." The Christian religion,
as a whole, af^Mared to him so engaging, that ho
was convinced it must please every one who is
properly acquainted with it : That we should see
the best effects of it among ihe common pe<^le, in
reforming the world, if k were properly r^>re-
feoted; .ao4 madi^ int«Ui^l4fi tp dieir different ci^mh

COUNT ITRUENsiE. 151

<dties ; and if they vrete made sensible, that, in this
life, they could never be happier, than by following
the precepts of Christianity. Every one then would
be convinced, that, supposing even this religion
to be a delusion, it must be such an one as con-
tradicts entirely the very nature of every other de*
lusion, because it is the best and truest way to
happiness. He added, that the objections which he
had fmmerly thought imanswerable, were now quite
gone, or at least, of so little consequence, that he
doubted about the truth of re%ion no more than
^about his own existence.

He was now so conscientious, that he examined
every thing he did, and considered whether it agreed
with the will of God. And he found himself by
this, so well, so composed and happy, that he was
jBore he should constantly think and act in the
jHune manner. In the meantime, being so near
eternity, he wished to do every thing in his power
to be in a »tuation in which he might hope to over-
come the terrors of death, and to be certain of a
blessed immortality. He believed his duty in this
point consisted chiefly in having his former life
continually before his eyes, that he might keep up
a lively sense of repentance ; and in .striving to
confirm himself in his present sentiments, to me-
ditate upon th^m, and to accustom himself more
and more to them. ** This," said he, ^ is now
my whole occupation ; it is so interesting to me,
jand pleases me so well, that nothing is more agree-
able to my taste. A little ago I read, and could
not suppress my desire for other books ; but this
inclination has now left me. I do not like to
read or to meditate on any thing else than what
concenis my chief business ; which is, a pre^^ara^

152 CONVEllTS FROM INFIDSLITY.

tion for eternity. Thank God, I am now advanced
8o far, that my doubts do not make me any^ wise
uneasy ; for no objecti(Hi presents itself hut what
I am able to answer to my satisfjeu^tion**^

This alteration ia the views and conduct of the
Coimt, appeared to some of his former friends so
strange and imaccountable, that they eould-scarc^
believe it. None, however, who had an <^portu-
nity of seeing him, could have the least reason to
doubt of his sincerity; or think he merely in-
tended to- deceive the world. Dissimulation was
no part of his character. There could not be a
surer proof of the effects of relig^fm upon his
heart, than the surprising tranquillity of mind he
possessed imder his present- melancholy dream-
stances. In allusion to the rq>roaehes and scep-
tical surmises that his professions of peace and
consolation might give rise to, he observes, ^ The
Free-thinkers will say, I should have found within
myself strength enough against my misfortunes,
without applying to religion. They will say, I
shewed myself now a coward, and was for this
reason, unwordiy of my former prosperity. I
../wish to God I had not been unworthy of it for
'i Other reasons. However, I should like to ask
these gentlemen, in what manner I should have
found comfort within my^self ? I durst not thbik
on my crimes,-— on my present situation,— on ia-
turity, if I wanted tranquillity of mind. Nothing
was left for me but to endeavour to stupify my-
self, and to dissipate my thoughts. But how
long would tliis Imve lasted in my present soli-
tude, and being removed from all opportunities of
dissipation ? And suppose it had been possible,
i> iFOiiId have been of Uttle use ; for the cause of

COUNT STRUEN8EB. 15S

fbar and anxiety remained always, and would have
reused me frequently ftom my artificial insensi-^
biKty. I Iried this mediod during the first weeks
of my confinement, before I reflected on my con-
dition. I lay for hours together on my bed. My
fancy composed romaiices,<«— I ttttrelled throng
tbe whole world, and my imagination produced a
thousand pictures to amuse myself with. But
sVen then, when I did not despair of saving my
Hfe, and did not know whether, and how far my
caimra might be ^^MXHrered, this dissipation wwuld
not answer the purpose. If I did dream in this
manner, peifaaps for several hours, my terrors and
my amdeties would return agam.'*

^ Periiaps som^ people will say, I should have
exerted my pride, axid shewn, at least by my out*-
ward conduct, that nothing oould himible mey
But alas 1 what a miserable pride is it to have a
bad conscience, and to think of dying on a scaf»
fold. No I I find it is better to derive my com»
fart from the only true source, which is religion.
And I wish that ^^lose who blame me now for
taking shelter under it, may find, in their last hours»
the same tranquillity it affords to me. . Hiere is
but one thing in this worid that mdies me really
and continusdly uneasy, which is, that I have sei-
duced others to irreligion and wickedness. I be*>
Ueve I should not. properly enjoy my future hapi*
piness, if I knew any of them I have deluded
woidd be eternally miserable. It is, therefore^
my most fervent wish, nay, my own happiness
depends on it, that God wwdd shew mercy to all
those I have by any means turned from him ; and
call them back to religion and virtue. I pray to
Ood for this most ieereaihf*'

154 CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY.

* The fonnal impeachment of the Coimt had al-
ready been laid before the supreme tribunal of
his coontry. His whole political condact was
ezammed; and every thing- produced by }as coun-
sel that could be advlmced in mitigation or defence.
He was aware that many of his actions, wiiateyer
Slight be stated in excuse or aUeviation, could not
he justified by the laws of the land, and therefore
never entertained sanguine hopes of his acquittal ;
lilthough the instinctive love c^ life led him f(»r a
time to repose in trembling solicitude under the
shadow of this uncertainty. All his doubts, how-
ever, were at length expelled, by the melancholy
intelligence of his fieite. The diarges against him
were produced on the 21st of Apnl, and sentence
pronounced on the 25th. His counsel was only
allowed one day to prepare his defence ; but it is
to be presumied that neither abler advice, n<H*
longer time would have been of nmch avaiL Many
c^the accusations were frivolous, or capable of a sa-
tisfactory answer ; and some of his ministerial of-
fences which were treated as high treason, even if
they had been true, would not have been deemed
capital in any free or civilised country.

A eopy of his sentence was officially trans-
mitted to his apartment. He received it with
calmness and composure, and read it without
anxiety, or shewing even the least alteration in his
jcountenance. The tenor of it was, according to a
custom of barbarous and useless- revenge that is
still permitted to disgrace the criminal code of ci-
vilized nations. That he had forfeited his honour,
his life, andhis estates ; that he was to be degraded
tvm all his dignities; have his coat-of-arms broken ;
bia right hand, and a£Uir?rax^VA& V»sd out off; his

COtmT STRUENflSE. 155

*i>6dy qnartered and laid upon the wheel ; and his
head and hand stack upon a pole. Tlie fate of
Connt Brandt, and the misfortHnes of his other
friends, appeared to move him much more than his
-own.

\^en "diose about him began to express their
fiiacere compassion, and to exhort him to suffer
with the patience and submission of a Christian,
•he relied, *^ I assure you I am yery easy about
that. -Such punishments should make an impre»-
sion upon o^ers ; and therefore they ought to be
severe. I had prepared myself for this and more.
I thought I might perhaps be broken upon the
wheel, and was already considering whether I
could sofifer this kind of death with patience. If
I have deserved it, my infamy would not be re«-
moved, though those disgraceful circumstances
were not annexed to it. And if I have not de*'
served it, which I cannot assert, sensible people
would do me justice ; and I should gain in point
ef honour. Aiid in my present condition, what is
honour or infamy in this world to me ? Now that
i am on the point of leaving this world, these can-
not affect me any more. It is equally the same
to me after death, whether my body putrifies
under ground or in the open air ; whether it
serves to feed the worms or the birds. God
will know very well how to preserve those par^
tides of my body which, on the day of resurrec-
tion, are to constitute my future glorified body.
Tt is not my all which is to be laid upon the wheel;
Thank God I know very well that this dust is not
my whole being. — ^And although the way which
leads me out of this world is very disagreeable,
yet I have reason to praise God that he £ift \sad&

156 CONVBRTa FROM IKFIBELITT.

choice of it ; that he has shewn me the i^ifiraaehfaii;'
deeth beforehand, and at the same time^ hat ea^
tricated me out of the pkasiiree and diasipatione
of this lifiB. In no other manner dioqld I hare
become acquainted with truth, or should have fa-
formed my sentiments ; Aough I am snre I sheold
have adopted Chnstiattity in all aituatiiMis, had ' I
known it so well as I do now.^ '^l^tr^M. -

The Count was sensible that the news of Ins hmk
kmcholy sentmce must soon reach his fiikher, who^
it is said, had all along predicted, or at least appfe-
hended the fate of his too ambitious son, even in
the midst of his prosperity ; and had tvritten te
him in the most tender and pathetic manner, on
the sulject of his profligacy and irreligion.- In order
to alleviate as much as possible, tin grief whi(^
his former misoondnct, and his present dc^;nded
condition, must occasion his renoable parmts, he
wrote them a very consoling and sadsfectory let-
ter, and requested it might be delirered imme-
diately after his death, which was to take place
in course of three days.

^ Your letters,^ says he, ^ have increased my
pain ; but I have found in them that love which
you always expressed for me. The memory of all
that sorrow which I have given you, by living
contrary to your good advices, and the great
affliction my imprisonment and death must cause
you, grieves me the more since enlightened by
truth. I see clearly the injury I have done. With
the most sincere repentance I b^ your pardon
and forgiveness. I owe my present situation to
my belief in the doctrine and redemption of Christ
Your prayers and your good example have con*
tributed much towax^ \t. ^ ^Hvoand that yonr

CPUKT STBUSHAEE. iSl

|oa fa««.foii]id that great good wliieb fou believe
to be the only true one. Look upon his misfor-
tnnoB as the means which made him obtain it.
AU impreasiona which my £ato could make upon
yoo wUl be alleyiated by this, as it has effaced
them with me. I recommend myself to your
forthor interceanon before God* I pray inces-
santly to Christi my JLedeemer, that he may en-
able you to bear your present calamities. I owe
the same to his assistance. My love to my brothers
and sisters* I am, with all ^ial respect,*' &c

He wrote letters to several of his acquaintance^
«]! in the same devout and penitential strain. In
these he laments being the cause of their distress ;
recommends them to embrace religion, where alone
he had found refuge and consolation ; and encou-
rages them to look forward with the hope of en-
joying together that happiness which b promised
nereafter, to every sincere penitent.

The tranquillity of the Count appeared the
more calm and unfeigned, the nearer his end ap-
proached. He assured Dr Munter, that religion,
and his firm hopes of being ^wrdoned before God,
had produced this ease of mmd. He owned that
his natural coolness of temper, his accustoming
himself for many years to keep his imagination
within bounds, and his entertainmg himself rather
with reflections of sound reason than images of
fimcy, had in some respects supported him ; but he
was convinced that all this without religion would
never have composed his mind. ^' I am unable,**
says Dr Munter, *^ to describe the ease and tran-
qmllity with which he spoke. I expected much
from Uie power of religion over his heart, but it
exceeded my most sanguine expectation.*'

o

158 CONVSRTS FROBI INriDfiLITT.

He had requested Dr Mimter to appmnt it
day when he shonld receive the aacnuiieitt^ m
he wished to comply with this solemn institiif
tion, before he suffered. He expressed a denve
that Count Brandt might be allowed to join him
in the celebration of this solemnity, whi<^ was to
set his seal to the public confession of his Chiis^
tianity ; but this being a matter of some delicacy^
was not complied widu He was greatly moved
on the occasion ; and seemed more subdued vnder
recollections of the divine love, manifested in tfa(l
redemption of Christ, than with the I^Knights of
the appalling and ignominious circumstances undor
which he was next day to suffer. ^ This man,"
says Dr Munter, ^* who received his sentence of
death without any apparent altra^on of minc^
was, during the whole time of this sacred oerer
mony, as if he was melting into tears. I never
observed a tear in his eyes as often as we w&e
talking about his misfortunes and death ; but on
account of his sins, and the moral misery mte
which he had thrown himself and others,—- on acf
count of the love of God towards him and aH
mankind, he has wept mpre than i myself could
have believed, had I not seen it.**

His expressions of gratitude for the divine
goodness, and his complete resignation to the will
of heaven, were ardent and sincere. ^* I know what
God has done for me, and what it has cost Christ to
procure my salvation. I know how great the bless-
ing is which I shall enjoy thnn^h Inm. I submit,
therefore, without the least reluctance, to his will, in
regard to myself, because I know he loves me. i
look upon my death, and all those awful and ]g>>
iiojiiiniouB circamstBncea i^l «c« to aittend it| as

COUNT STRVENSEB. 159

tbings wMeh €rOd found neeeseaiy for my good.
hi the be^Qa»^ of my confinement, I thought
qnhe d^erently firom mat I do now, even when
I recollected that my vSaks might perhaps tnm
out m the nuomer tney have done. I wished to
fafi fidck and to die. 1 even had the thought of
idbstmning from eating, and to starve myself to
death; yet I never akoold have laid hands on
myueMy wongh I had had an opportunity for it. I
now pndBe God heartily that neither of the two
haa. taken ]^aee«''

. How coB8<»entioit8 he was to avoid every thing
that mi^t be offensive to God, and to perform even
the minutest duties, when he was persuaded they
were «»joined by religion, appears from some ob-
s^rvaldons he made on the propriety of saying grace
before meat. ^ I think,'' said he, '^ that it is the
duty of a Christian to pray before he sits down to
a meal, though my sentiments in this respect do
not favour superstition. It is but just to direct our
thoughts on such occasions frill of gratitude toward
him who supplies our wants. I have therefore
pade it for sometime a rule to pray before and af-
tn: dinner and supper. However, my old custom
had so much poWer over me, that I frequently sat
down to eat before I had said grace. Now it may
be equally the same whether I direct my thoughts
towards God before or after having taken two or
three spoonfuls of soup ; but it has vexed me to '
find that my old, careless way of thinking has made
me forget what I thought to be my duty."

The fatal morning, (April 28), was now ar-
rived, when the sentence of the Count was to be
put in execution. He had arranged with Dr
Munter the previous evenmg^ how they were to

160 CONVfiRTS IfROM IHMDRLITY.

act on tbis trying oecasioii. He had taken leatra
of his friends in a yery affecting nMamer^ and made
Mine trifling presents of the money he had about
him. He had retued to bed pretty early, after
reading for a good while, and slept for five or tax
hours together very sonndly. In the morning h»
spent a considerable time in deep meditation* He
^&en got up, dressed himself, and converted with
ihe officer very composedly. When Dr Mmiter
entered, he found him lying on a couch, dressed m
he intended to go to the place of execution, and
reading ShlegeUs Sermons on the sufferings of
Christ

The Count received him with his usual sere^
nity and composure. *^ I was thinking," said
he, ** last night, whether it might not strengthen
-me in the way to death, if I was to fill my fancy
with agreeable unages of eternity, and fature bliss.'
But I rather think it better to take this great step
in cool consideration. Fancy, if once put in f^-
4»tion, can soon take a false turn. It cotdd dismiss,
perhaps at once, my agreeable and pleasing pros-
pects of eteiTiity, and eagerly catch at the fonni-
ilable circumstances of death ; by which means I
fear I should be unmanned. Even in going to the
place of e:tecution, I will not indulge it, but rather
employ my reason in meditating on the walk of
Christ to his death, and apply it to myself. And
now that I am BO near my end, I find how neces-
4sary and how belieficial to man, the positive asser-
tion of Christ is of the existence of eternity. If I
was not sure of this, mere reason • could give me
but little satisfaction on the question, whether a
few hour6 hence, any thing would be left of me
that retained life ? I can likevdse tell you from

COUNT STRUENSEB. 16 1

my present experience, that a bad conscience is
jroroe than death. I now find comfort against
dettth ; but so long as the former lasted, I had no
peace within me. I believe I should have become
quite hardened, if this wound had not been healed.
I am now calm and composed, and I am sure I
stiall remain so/' •

He here put the question, how fiur he might be
permitted to keep up his fortitude by natural
means; for instance, by endeavouring to retain his
presence of mind, and not letting himself be ear-
ned away by imagination and fEuacy ? Dr Munter
replied, *' If God has given you a certain strength
of sold, it is his will that yx>u should make use of
it, in those mcHnents when you stand most in need
of it. But no inward pride, or any ill-foimded
complacency is to interfere^ You are to do no-
thing merely for the sake of being applauded by
the spectatOTB, on account of your resolution and
composure. You are to be above such things.
God loves sincerity, which consists in shewing our-
selves outwardly as we are inwardly* — Shew your-
self therefore, exactly in the manner as you feel
yourself within. If you even should be so much
affected as to shed tears^i do not hide them, and do
not be ashamed of them ; for they are no dishonour
to you* You cannot conceal from yourself for a mo-
ment the cause of your death ; and you would do
wrong, and offend true Christians, if you were to die
with a cheerfulness which can only fall to the share
of those that suffer for the sake of truth and virtue.
I wish to see you on the scaffold with visible si^is
of repentance and sorrow, but at the same time
with a peace of mind which arises from a confi-
dence of being pardoned b^ore God. I should

o2

§62 CONVERTS FROM IKFtDCLITY.

even dislike to s^ you coneeftl the nfttml iett
cf dealJi.'' To this the Coitnt made vatmeti Itef
he had no incliiiati<m to make a riiew b^0rettfti»'
and shonid not force himsdf to ajtpear o ftt waf d h^
cBfierent from what he felt ; that he ahoiild'aa nmcn
as possible, direct his thoughts towiardsr God, aad
not distm-b himself by studying to aatiflfy th^ (SK"
pectations of the spectators.

At this moment the door of liie priMl ^iras
opened, and an officer watered in ofder to coiidMel
him to the place of execution. HemaintaiBed ihi
same calmness and serenity ; and endeayotired to
soothe his pious confessor, who was greatly affiMted;
and expressed mnch concern for him*' ^ Make
yourself easy,*' said he, ** by conndering the hap
piness I am going to enter into, and with the eo**
sciousness ^t God has made yon a meaae of ptd^
curing it for me f &en rising from his conch, he
followed his conductor, bowing as he entered 1h#
coach, to those that were standing aroundA

Upon the way he partly conrersed with the officer
that went with him, and partly sat in deep-medita*
lion. All the while no other alteration was TisiUe^
but that he was pale, and seemed to think and con<r
verse with more difficulty than formerly* How-
ever, he had his faU presence of min^ knew sere*
ral of those that stood about the coadi^ bowed to
many, pulling off his hat, and to some he bowed in
a friendly manner. He assured his attendants that
his ease was not a forced one ; that he was not
ambitious to gain the applattse of men ;- akhobgfa
he could not promise that he ^ould not shew any
uneasiness upon the scaffi)ld; but that his soul
looked with calmness and hqie beyond deaths
'' AdA how little;' (Vie cnLdKooA), '' '« ^baA whkk

-comt flTRUtirssK. 163

I «m ttow going to Bofier, wlieii I compire it with
iIm sofioriilgB Christ hore when he died. — ^Recol-
leel only hw words, ** My God> my God, why
hast thoa forsaken me ?*' snd oonrider what ex<T«-
dafting pain must hare forced these ezpresnoaa
from him*'

They had now reached their mounful destina-
tion, where thouMrnds of spectators were in anxious
Attendtsicew His friend Brandt was aheady ar«
riyed, and had momited the scaffold first. In »
l!giw mitiiitea, the eyes and motion of the crowd
eeetned to auMmnoe that Stmensee's torn was next.
He pissed with deoomm and humility through tho
crowds and ascended the stain with some difficulty.
He desired Dr Munter to remember him to seve^
#il of his acquaintance; and to tell some of them;
that if he, by his conversation and actions, had mis->
led them in their no^ns of virtue and religion, he,
as a dying nuBn, acknowledged the injury he had done
4hem, begged them to efiiace those impressions, and
40 forgive hinw He prayed for the repentance
and sidvation of his enemies, declaring that he left
tiie worid without hatred or malice against any
person u4iatever. He expressed his unfeigned
conttiiimi for all those actions by which he had of-^
fended God and man ; and his firm trust in the
redemption of Christ, as the only ground of his
pardon and a^eptance. As he wished the con^
Versatioii on the Acaffold to be as short as possible,
since Ins tiioaghts were now wholly absorbed in the
contemplations of that eternity upon which he was
about to enter, he began to prepare by undressing
himself The fear of death was visible in his whole
countenance ; but at the same time, submission,
calmaeas, and hope, were ex:pr«i&ed mhsft tk «\4

164 CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY.

deportment. He inquired of the execntioBery hoiW,
fieu* it was necessary to imcover, and desirod tbei^
to assist bim. He then hast^ed towards the
block, which was stained and still re^dng with,
the blood of his friend ; laid himself quickly down^
and endeavoured to fit his neck and chin properly
into it. When his hand was cut o£^ his whole
frame fell into conTulsions. The next stroke of
the axe, in a moment severed his head frxun liia
body. . , .

Such is the melancholy end^ in winch the 9Xr
traordinary career of this distinguished but u^
fortunate man terminated. His name has become
inseparably blended with the history of the king-
dom over which he presided, although the droxxfg^.
stances of his death have cast a shade over Vm
memory and his fame. The judgment that wiU
be pronounced upon him, wiU differ according to
the different estimates taken of his character.
Had he remained in his former prosperity, been
successful in his political speculations^ and died a
natural death, he m^ht have been handed down
to the remotest ages; as a great and enli^tened
statesman; even if he had been at bottom the
greatest villain. With many^ the admiration of hia
talents, and his singular fortune, would have con-
cealed his want of principle, and been a sufficient
apology f(H- the irregularities of his life. Viewed
through these false excuses, instead of b^ng Inunded
as the hapless victim of crimes and debaucheri^
his praises might have been sung, and monuments
erected to his honour, as the Solon of Denmark,
the wise admimstrator of its laws, and the elegant
reformer of its manners. The world has seen mm
die a jnale&ctor ; bu\ thoee "wVio yotdsi^itfA acoofding

COUNT STRUXNSBB. IM

telhe opinion of tlie world, ^I reckon him happy
in his misfortttnes. The Christian dispositiims he
manifested at his deaths will he a sufficient indnce-
ment to forgire him the ignominy wherewith he
had stained his life, and to rejoice that he died a
humble and deyout believer in the gospel.

It is worthy of remark, that during the time
l^ese tnigical scenes were acting, public amnse^
ments continued uninterrupted. On the 25th, the
King went to the opera, after signifying Ins ap-
probation of the sentence. On the J37th, the day
when it was solemnly confirmed, there was a mas*
qued ball at Court ; and the King went again Jr
to the opera on the SSth, tbd day ef executioil. ^
Hie passion which prompts an absolute monarch
tb raise an unworthy favourite to honour, is still
less disgusting than the unfeeling levity and capric<»
with which, on the first alann, he always abandons
the same favourite to destruction. And it ought
not to be forgotten, that the very persons who had
represented the patronage of operas and masque-
rades as one of the offences of Struensee, were the* \
same who thus paraded their unhappy Sovereign j
through an unseasonable and Unbecoming succes- r
Mon of such amusements.

We have thus detailed at considerable length
the whole of this interesting case, — ^the process by
which the Count was led from the grossest infide-
lity, to a steady and animating convictioii of the
truth of revelation, — ^the difhcukies that impeded
his progress, as well as the means and arguments
that wem employed to remove them. A more
hopeless enterprise could not well be ihiagined,
than to contend against opinions so obstinately
and ably defimded; lunr eoidd «k timk^ ^^<(9bK»

166 CONVERTS FBOM INFIDELITY.

task, perhaps, be imposed upon a Cfaristian nunis-
ter, thaii to preserve with snch nice (fiacriminar
tion, the balance of feeling in the mind of the peni-
tent, so as to prevent hope from growing into pre-;
sumption, or faith into enthusiasm,— to repress'
the risings of unwarrantable triumph, without dimi-
nishing the assurance of pardon and acceptance.
This task, however, was accomplished with singu-
lar judgment and success.
- Seldom has scepticism met with a mere pru-
dent and skilful dissector than in Dr Munter.
The plan he adopted was most judicious, and
exactly suited to the circumstances of^his convert
The tenderness and sagacity he displayed in. his
treatment were admirable. Wi^ cautious and
gentle hand he carries the probe of severe examir
nation, deeply and effectually into the heart; wbS^
at the same time he is equally ready to administer
the heaHng balm of Christian consolation. Here
there are no over-wrought and exaggerated pic-
tures of heavenly glory, or extatic bliss. No de*
clamatioHs or rhetorical figures are employed, — no
attempts to inflame the imagination or the pas-
sions, — ^nothing to encourage presimiptuous assu-
rance, or excite feelings of enthusiastic rapture.
The infidel is reasoned out of his system, delibe-
rately and by degrees. He is convicted by deci-
sive appeals to his conscience, and delicate remon-
strances on the bad consequences of his actions
and his example. At every succeeding conference
some new 'discovery of truth is made, some unex-
pected light springs up to dispel the delusions of
that metaphysical labyrinth in which his mind was
entangled. The pride of self-sufficiency gradually
subsides, — ^tbe barriers of sophistry and error, wiUun

comrr strueksbb. 167

wLich he had entrenched and fortified himself, fall
prostrate before the irresistible evidence of ai^«
ment and demonstration. He is led not only to
make unreserved confession of his sins, bnt to a
cordial hatred and repentance of ihem, — and to an
earnest desire of making some reparation to society,
ier the injories his crimes had inflicted upon it.
The doctrines of the gospel which he had rejected
a0<too mysterious to be bdieyed, and exacting too
much for human reason or human weakness to
subnut to, he comes at length to receive and to em-
brace, as aM his hope and all his salvation. The
retnming prodigal flies, in his despair, back to the
friendly mansion he had foolishly quitted, on a far
journey after lawless gratifications, which he could
not indulge according to his wishes, under the vir
glance and restraints of a father s house.
; Of the genuineness and sincerity of his peni-
tence, there can be, we think, but one opinion.
Hypocrisy formed no part of his character : nei-
ther can he be accused of having renounced his
former sentiments, and embraced Christianity with
credulity or precipitation. The result of his in-
quiries was exactly such as might have been pre-
dicted from the trivial nature of his objections, and
his slight acquaintance with the subject : the me*
morable confession he made, and it is one which
might be extorted from every infidel and every
atheist, would they speak the truth, confirms this
fact. ^ My unbelief and my aversion to religion,
were founaed neither upon an accurate inquiry
into its truth, nor upon a critical examination of
those doubts that are generally made against it.
They arose, as is usual in such cases, Srxm a very
general and superficial knowledge of rdi^on on one

168 CONVlRTt VBOM tmriOVLlTY.

lade, md much inclhuHioii to diwiMj ita- prtfcej^
4m iJie other, together with a TeadmoM to oolvr-
tain everf olijoctioii which I diMOTorod agunsl it*"

Had artfiil means heen employed to dohide Urn
into ablind confidence of the diruie mefey, olr weA
upon his fimcy by images uther of hopes or hmn ;
sncli artifices and expedients woold, in hb chm^
liaye been totally misapplied. To the agitatkns
of terror and doubt ihat sometimes diiErfnirb the
intellect of weak or flnpcratitions men, he was an
titter stranger. Eren death was not fonmddile
to him, because he looked upon it ae Ae mera
consequence of natural causes, and aawnothiBg
to drrad beyond it. His inquiries were thevesnlt
of slow and mature deliberation. The temper of
his mind,«-*the nature of his public easpknymeBlbt,
— and the means by which he rose to his pros-
poity, had taught him a halntol aetmg, m all
eireumstances, with coolness. This calcuhiling
fipirit he carried into his researches upon the
nature and truth of rcToaled religion. Brery ar-
gument he exammed separately, and upon its
own evidence. Nothing was adopted but upon
implicit, and sometimes reluetaat, oonviction;
and he would not abandon the strong-holda of
error, within which he had taken aeeuxe reinge,
until he saw the shallow and dangerous fbonda*
tions on which ^ whole fabrie of dehuion yras
reared.

Speaking to Dr Munter of hie eonTersiont he
mentions the scruples he at first entertained on
the subject of changing his religion, and the means
by which they were lumpily conquered^ in such a
eandid and concise manner, that we cannot do belter
than close iioA Axf!^yi^\stk^PK^%cicmnA id it

CDUKT STRUSN8SE. 169

A, Do BOt jnmdf*^ mid he, '^ if it shoiild be said
yon cmglit to have urged upon me arguments that
VBie not so philosophical and more evangelicaL
X asBwe yon, that by no other means you woubl
have found access to my heart, than by those you
ItaTB chosen. There were only three ways which
jPQiii might haTe taken: declamation, working upon
the imagination, and cool inquiry^ If you had
ehoaen &at of declamation, I should have imme-
diately thought, if the man has a good cause, why
does he not propose his reasons without any art ;
if God hae rerealed a religion, it must stand the
test of inquiry. I therefore should have heard you
without any emotion. If you: had endeavoured to
woik upon my imagination, you must have done
ao by filling it with terrible descriptions of eter-
Bityb This method would have had still less effect
than declamation. I was always upon my guard
against my fancy, and fur that very reason, avoided
reading poets ami other authors ^t might inflame
it;- and I- was very sure, ^t alter death, there
was nothing either to hope or to fear. Any im*
piesBion you might have made thiough fear, would
soon have worn of£, and would have entirely va-
nished by recollecting my former system. The
only way left you, was that which you chose, I
meu cool inquiry^

'' I will tell you now what resolution I had
taken before you came, and for what reasons I en-
tered into conversation with yoUi About eight
days before your first visit to me, the commander
of the castle asked me if I chose to converse with
a- divine ? Thinking, however, that every clergy-
man would be i^t either to preach too much, or
tire me with melaadioly declamations, I declined

170 CONVERTS V^ROM INFIDELITY.

the proposal, and said, I and all divines differ very
mndi in opinion, and I hare no inclination to dis-
pute. However, I knew that I must expect a dergy-
man to attend me hy order of government ; I there-
fore resolved to receive him civilly, and to hear
him with decency and composure. I intended to
declare to him, at the end of the first visit, that if
he was ordered to see me frequently, he would be
welcome ; but I should beg of him not to entertain
any hopes of converting me, for I was too well
convinced of my own opinion, and should there-
fore never enter into any useless disputations. —
When you came, I immediately perceived that
you had no intention to declaim to me in the style
of a preacher, or to fill me with fears and terrors.
You only desired me, since the matter was of so
great consequence, to examine into my own piin-
dples, and the evidence for Christiamty. I found
this reasonable, I had time to do it, and fancied I
should, by this inquiry, discover that Christianity
had no foundation, and convince myself more
strongly of the tnith of my principles.

" We began our conferences widi great cool-
ness ; I read the books you gave me, though with
diffidence, yet with attention. This did not<;ontinue
long, and I could not help perceiving that I had
been mistaken. It can scarcely be believed how
much it has cost me to own my eiror, with re-
gard to myself as well as with regard to you.
You may remember that I did not from the first
deny that I had acted wrong, and had been un-
happy in my former ^tuation, and that my con^
science reproached me. But, considering my for-
mer obstinacy, it was a great victory over my."
(self, to confess that mY foiiEvaer principles were

COUNT fiTRU£NSZE. 171

false. To proceed so far was only to be done by
reason* You are the best judge why you treated
me in the manner you have done ; but the success
entirely justifies you : my conversion is, through
the grace of God> providentially brought about.
Sensible Christians will rejoice that my soul is
saved, and that you have chosen this method,
which, in regard to me, was the only one that
could be effectual.'*

172 CONVERT* »ROM IHFIDEtlTY.

COUNT BRANDT.

The name of Brandt has been rq[>eatedly men-'
tioned in the preceding sketdi, as the intimate
comjpanion, and the unfortunate fellow-sufferer of
Struensee, to whose patronage he chiefly owed
his greatness, and his disgrace. As their histories
are insepandbly blended together, both having
flourished in the same Court, and died on the same
scaffold, little remains of much interest or im-
portance, to be added to the account already given.
Like his friend and political benefiactor, he had

Erofessed himself a libertine and an infidel ; though
e afterwards saw reason to alter his sentiments,
and had candour enough to acknowledge his eiTors,
and yield to the foi*ce of conviction* This happy
change that took place during his imprisonment,
in his principles and his conduct, was attested by
undisputed authority; and will afford sufficient
evidence of its own veracity, to all who are not
disposed to treat such conversions with discredit
and contempt, as the oflspring of superstition or
enthusiasm.

Enevold de Brandt was of Danish extrac-
tion, and of a noble family. He had the misfortune,
it appears, to lose liis father in early life ; but his
mother, a virtuous and accomplished lady, survived
-to he tike witaem o( hk melanchoiy and ignomi-

COUNT BRANDT. 173

nious end ; although the salutary reform which ac^
companied it, must have afforded no small allevia-
tion to her sorrows. He received an excellent edu-
cation, and saw none but the best examples. Every
care was taken to train him, by mond and reli-
gious instruction, in tlie paths of virtue and piety.
The recollection of these early impressions he was
never able entirely to shake off; and he confessed
he often felt their secret power visiting his con-
science, in the midst of levity and dissipation, and
especially when consigned to ^e soUtude of a
prison. He mentions,.in particular, the time when
ne was first admitted as a communicant to the
Lord's Supper, as being much struck with the so-
lemnity of the ceremony, and havkig partaken of
the sacrament with the most fervent devotion.
The words of the clergyman made an impression
on his mind which he could never forget : '^ Hold
that fast which thou hast, that no man take thy
cf own."

He was early introduced to the notice of the
king, and seems to have been treated by his Ma-
jesty with great kindness and partiality ; but, as
has been stated, having incurred the royal displea^
sure, he was eidled from Court, and retired for a
short time to France. It was while under this
temporary disgrace that he became acquainted
with Struensee, through whose interest he was re-
called from Paris, and reinstated in his office, and
soon after advanced to the rank of Count. This
intimacy, it would appear, proved the origin of
his unbelief, and the cause of his subsequent mis-
fortunes ; although, in restoring him to his country,
Struensee professed to act from the best motives,
and solely with the intention of perfornung a

p2

174 CONVERTS #ttOM imlOXLiTY.

kindness to a man whom he really est^med* Hi(i
appointment, under the medical Piime Ministef/
was to superintend the palace, and take a penonal
charge of his Majesty ; an office which ginre him
every opportunity to promote the designs, luld es-
-tablish the authority of his amhitious patty>n, to
whose interest he was attached hy gratitilde^ and
hy a present of ten thousand rix^ouaTs.

His fidelity to that unpopular and unprincipled
administration, speedily drew down upon him the
reproaches and the yengeabce of his fellow-dti-
xens ; who accused him as a lehel to the honour
and the interests of his country, — as supporting a
government which was founded in critnes and i^-
lanies, — and co-operating with a traitor, who had
arrogated to himself royal powers, — dishonoured
their king in the eyes of the whole world, — and,
hy keeping him under a strict and despotic guar^
^anship, prevented the injuries and the complaints
of the public from being conveyed to his ean. '

He had many friends among the discontented no-
bility, who were anxious for his welfare, and tried
to win him off from the obnoxious party. They
intreated him to return to his desated idlegiance,
— ^to assist the nation in throwing off the galling
bondage in which they were held, and innicting
just punishment on the authors of their wrongs
and their miseries ; and to apprize the king of the
danger that threatened himself and his empire, as
he was the only man permitted to converse with
him, — all access to the throne being denied to the
rest of his subjects. They reminded him of the
insecurity, and the unpopularity of his situation;
and the risk he was exposed to of falling a victim
to the rage of. an eiss<j^i%^\ftd fofidoa ; fto^ Bome

XOtJNT BRANtT. 175

trren adikioiiished him, by prfvat^ letters, to atoid
timt deilhtietion wbich cofhfiiQin p^dence might
htttnft told him was inevitably to result from the
iln^licies and intriraes of hi6 ac(iotiiplices.

The Cowit was, ^oweVer, too ntiicn engrossed
with the gallantries and amnseinents of a profU""
gate cotirt, to attend to the retnofistranc^ or the
predictions of his friends. He was attested, as
.lias already been noticed, on the 15th of January,
1772; and after a slight resfstflnte, coitveyed to
the Citadel and laid in irons. The Retbr^nd Deail
Hee was appointed by the King's (idiiiMssion to
attend him during lus imprisonment, an ofSce
Which he accejited with some reluctance, knowing
too well WhM trere th^ sentiments and ihe former
life of the prisoner ; that he had be^n entirely di^
voted to his pleasures, add one that turiifed erety
4pflrt of religion into riditMk. When he was in-
troduced by General Holben, Commatider o^ ihe
Castle, the Count received hiin with gr^t drility.

Having expressed his sympathy for his misfor-
tunesj akid hk vrbh to comfcni; him iiihis distreiteed
condition, he todk the oppdrtuiiify of recoih^aead-
ing reHgion, as the best a^ oifly souirde (^ consola-
tion. Braiidt shewed no aversion to talk upon the
subject, and seemed not at all ini;lined id conceal his
foHnef way of thinking. He assiii^d hinl he had
Ueirer be^ entirely without religion ; though hb
<^^med hd had not always spdk^ of it with a be-
coming tespect; but that ofteli tffieh he Bad'
talked very freely against it, he hiid nb ctther in-
tention in what he said than to appciar witty. Htf
admitted, that though he had beeii fbr from bein^
virtuous, yet he had evcfr etrtertained a secret re>*
vcrence for piety ; tod hrtd WVewAtoi^c «to ^^ift 4 .

176 CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY.

with StmenBee, in the hope of bringing him to bet-
ter sentiments, diongh he wonld neyer list^i to him,
but always desired him to keep silence en that
head. Much of the scepticism and profene ri^iile
to which he was addicted, had been originally im-
bibed, aiul fostered by reading deisucal writmgs;
and among^the rest, he menti(med the works of VdU
taire, to whom he owed very Httle liiat was good*
He said he had spent, when upon his travds, four
days with this veteran advocate of unbelief; and
had heard nothing from him but what had a de-
cided tendency to corrupt the heart and the mo-
rals.

His interoomiBe with Stmensee, who noTer frmn
his infancy had any sense or impressions of reli-.
gion, together with his own natiual levity of disr
position, appear to have been the main root of his
infidelity, and the chief impediment that hindered
him, long afl^i; his^ imprisonment, from senously
reflecting on his miserable conditiim. There.were
doubts on certain parte of Scripture, which he con-
fessed had created hini some uneaainesi^ especially
about the fall of man, original sin, &c. but these
were readily and satisfiactonly answ^ed, as they ap-
peared to be merely the oftspring of wilfril pn^u-
dice or superficial thinking. His mind b^ng thus
laid open to conviction> the advices and conversa-
tions of his visitor became daily more and more
agreeable, although ib» habitual vivacity of hie
temper, occasionsdly betrayed him into inconsis^
tencies, and gave rise to many fake reports with
regard to the sincerity of his repentance. He was
60 much addicted to this carelessness or levity of
manner, especially in the early period of his con-
£aejiienf9 that tftei dafiddso^ tears for an hour.

-rotmr sRAinyr. 17T

cktbg nil the while on his bed, he would tarn im-
mediatdy to singing ; and on one occasion, on ar
mmonr being spread of his obtaining pardon, he
reqaested of the niyal commission to haye his fet-^
ters taken off, and made some other strange pro-
posals to them. Tliese sudden paroxysms of in-
discretion, howerer, he was himself ready to w>
-feoowledge and to lament ; which he did in a man-
ner that seemed to erince the sincerity of his con-
trition ; and they had no effect in discooraging the
visits, ar abating the hopes of his venerable instnic-
tor, who eamesdy exhorted him to beg forgiveness
ior thesetransgressions, to be more upon his guard
against such temptations, and instead of displaymg
a contemptible vanity, rather to shew himself s
patent sinner, who wad as anxious to edify odtertf
by his conversation now, as he formerly was f<l^c<MP^
mpt them by it, ^

Many of the stories that were propagftted con-<
4;eming his misconduct, were the idle inventions of
malicious people, who industriously circulated re-
ports of his pretended follies, for the sake ef reh-
jdering suspicions that veneration ^diich the Count
had begun to profess for neligion, lest his example
might open the eyes of those who adhered to hia
former principles. The lillisity of these cahim-
nies was manifestly proved by the respectable
Commander of the Castle^ who assured Dean Hee
that the Count devoted all his solitary hours to the
j>erusal of such religiooA books as he had supplied
him with ; that he scarcely ever laid the Bible out
o( his hands, and very seldom spoke of any thing
else, much less of any ihing that could give of-
fence ; and he added, that if any thing improper
or unbecoming had happened, he wimld be the
Brst to^ve him information ol xK.

178. CONVERTS FROM INFI9ELITT.

The reports of the officers that guarded him, and
who were to give an account of hun ererv morning
unanimously attested the same fiact, that hia G^^rer-
sation was not only decent, hut oftentimes edifying;,
for he frequently represented to them what com-
forts religion administered to every one who was
convinced of its truth and. importance ; ihaX it was
the only means which could support and tranquillize
the mind ; which happiness he enjoyed^ and was
indebted for it solely to religion. He declared to
them at the same time, tkit durixig- his greatest
proi^erity, and m the enjoyment of his licmitioitt
pleasures, he never felt any real satisfaQtion. He
ft'equentty took occasion to mention the unhappi-
ness of his former condition ; and spoke with gnir
titude of the ohligations he was under to the mercy
of Providence^ which had several times spared his
life in the most imminent dangers, when he might
have been snatched away in his sins, and left to
polish for ever. But he was now resolved to set
himself earnestly to the business of repentance, and
to work out his salvation with fear and trembliog.

His own endeavours w&e ably^ seomded by the
instructive conyersationa of his teacherj who ex-
horted him to make the best use of his time, and
to turn his thoughts toward&God in fervent prayer,
^t his soul m^ght he savedk These ezhortatioDs
were always listened to with serious attention, and
made a very salutary impression on his mind ; for to
the last day of his existence, he seldom spoke with-
6ut tears in his eyes^ of the profligacy of his former
life, the depravity of his heart and ^ exceeding
greatness of the divine mercy. To fill up the int^-
vals of his time, and confirm him the more in his
goodresoluUona^lu&^ww^viK^UAdwith poper b<K^;

cetnrr BRANDT. 179

that lie- might follow out, at hia leistiTe, the rariotis
Bubjeets <m which they conversed. Gibson s PaS-
tondXietters translated, and some of Dr Doddridge's
writings were brought him, as containing many
soHd argnments for the tmth of the Christian reli-
gion. Henrey's Meditations, and Newton on the
Prophecies e<tified^im mBi^; particnlai^y'thelat-'
ter, from "the dear proofs it gave him of ihe divi.*
nity of the sacred Scriptures, upon which all reli-
gion is bailt. Several passages of the Bible which
he did not fully understand, he desired to have ex-
plained to him, and would occasionally start ob-
jections ; evidently, however, from a wish to be bet-
ter informed. The 53rd chapter of Isaiah, and
the 13th of St Luke's Gospel, he remarked as.hav-
ing made a deep impression ^ipon him. Prayer
was an exercise in which he frequently engiBig«d ;
and he considered it an essential part of his duty,
from .wliich he derived gr^t ease and comfort of
mind.

The alteration of his sentiments was visible in

his whole deportment, and left no doubt as to the

efficacy of the means employed for his reformation.

He pitied the miserable condition of those who

^ were still under the yoke of -sin and unbelief, which

he himself had borne ; and was much pleased that

he now found such deli^ in the true word of

God, whose influence upon his heart, since he had

read it with good intentions, convinced him of its

divine origin. His imprisonment he regarded as

tlie means of setting his soul at liberty, and he

found in Ms chains so little to regret or annoy

him, that .he would frequently take .them up and

> idssthem. Nothing gave him greater pleasure than '

' to hear of the happy xhange that, had been effected

180 CONVfiBTS FROKf INFlBELlT^.

IB the aentmieiite of hk feUaw-prisoDer* Straenee^
of whom he often spdce ; und ae«b«d Deta V^ to-
go and mform him how Bincerely he ri^joiced to^
knowthat he had emhraced the troth, asd to h^
of him to continue steadfast in it to the bsk ^^ Teft
Um,-' added^ie, ^* on my part, that my eiqperienoe
has now taught me, that tnie ease of mind is no-
where to be found but in Chiist cnudfied."

This intelligence ¥raB mutually agreeable to both
perdes; for Struensee had rq^eotedly expressed
his sorrow to^ hear that Brandt had beea-so gay
and thoughtless ; and hoped it would make some
impression on his mindi and leadhimrto a morr
serious c<MDunderation of relig^n, if told that he
was now better informed, and firmly convinced of
the truth ; and he regarded it as his duty to ac-
quaint hhn with the alteration of liis principles,
tiiat as he had been his seducer, and aocessaiir
to his misfortanes, hemight contribute as much
as possible towards his reformation ; and that as be
had shared with him in his pfosperity and his suf-
ferings, they might enjoy together the happinesti
of a blessed immortaUty.

As the termination of his life drew nearer, the
Count appeared to grow more calm and resigned.
He seemed to rqK>8e full confidence in the honesty
d- his judges, that they would act no otherwise
than according to law and consdmice. He spoke
of his approaching death without fear or anxiety,
seemii^ to possess an inward assurance of being
pardoned before Grod, though he acknowledged him-
self undeserving of so great mercy. £ven the pro-
babili^ of his release, or of his escaping the scafibld,
conid no longer inspire him with his former levity,
or s^UadaoMsoX to iSb& wq»M\ loAhe espreased Ua

COUNT BRANDT. IBl

p^ronasion, that if God foresaw, in case his life
Tm^ sared, that he should be carried away again
%Y Tsnity and sin, he would pray of him not to
apnre his Hfe, but rather let him die; for he
raongfat it infinitely better for him to enter into
a happy eternity and be with Christ, than to be-
6omiB again a slave of sin, and to forfeit in this
manner everlasting felicity. And if he should be
eondenmed by the laws of men, these blessed hopes
would overbalance ihe ignominy of his fieite ; and
he would leave the world ftdly convinced that such
was the will of God, who, seeing that he might
9iffaa relapse, had in kindness prevented it, by a
wise ^ough severe dispensation.

Towards the dose of his imprisonment^ he told
his venerable attendant, that he had three di£ferent
obstacles to conquer, which, through the assistance
of divine grace, he had at last entirely overcome.
Tlie first was, that he felt it hard for him to con-
fess he really was so great a sinner. The second
was, to follow the counsels tendered for his refor-
mation ; and own to his former acquaintance that
Ins s^snrdments were totally changed. The third,
though not expressly stated, appears to have been
8<»ne doubts as to the possibility of his salvation.
These victories, however, difficult as they were, he
ultimately obtained ; and his subsequent conduct
evinced, that they were not imaginary but real
triumphs over the pride of reason, ^e opinion of
the world, and the apprehensions of nature.

The 24th of April was the day when he was to
receive his sentence; When Dean Hee entered,
he fonndhim reclining on his bed, and more thought-
fol than common, but he expressed himself with
calmness and resignation^ though he was fully in-

VOL. I. Q

182 CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY.

formed as to the issue of his trial» and even the
manner of his death. A copy of his sentence had
heen transmitted to him, wluch he took from the
drawer of a table that stood next him, and gare to
his Mend to read. He was not in the least de-
jected or discomposed, and shewed a firmness and
l^eace of mind, qnite surprising for one in his situa-
tion. Next day he was informed that his execu-
tion was to take place on the 28th ; this commu^
nication he receired without emotion or concern^
ftttd said he would readily submit to the will of
God.

The charges against him were TEgne and fri-
volous, and could never have been construed into
Capital crimes except by a tribimal determmed on
his destruction. He was accused of being the ac-
complice and the confidant of Struensee : That
insteEid of disapproving or opposing his administra-
tion, which he could not but perceive to be audar
cious, and detrimental both to the King and the
whole empire ; he, as a criminal subject, and unr
worthy of has trust, had acted in concert with him,
suffering himself to be employed in keeping every
body from speaking to the King, or giving infor-
mation of his misgovemment : That he had be-
haved towards his Majesty with insolence and dis-
respect ; opposing his royal will, to serve his own
private interests ; and abetting the usurpations of
his protector, with the view of amassing a fortune,
and obtaining greater honours : That within a
short time he had received presents out of the
Treasury, to the amount of 60,000 rix-doUais ;
though neither his conduct nor his services de-
served such a reward ; and, in returning thanks to
his Majesty, he had purposely omitted to name the
Buq^, lest the trax^sacXvwi ^S^voMld be discovered.

COUNt BRANDT. 1S3

But the moet criminal of all the charges, and that
which made his insolence, amhition and avarice
appear as nothing in comparison, was. That he had
Isii vi<^ent hands on his Majesty, having beaten,
flogged, and scratched Ins saa*ed person; and
tiimigh he might have had no intent to commit
mmrdsr, yet he had the same guilt as if he had
made the attempt, since the issue of the assault
might have proved fatal, and death been caused
by an unlucky blow on a tender part. The answer
which the Count gave to this grievous and trea-
flonable accusation was, That his Majesty, who in-
herited from his &ther an irresistible propensity fm
wtestling and boxing, and used frequently to amuse
himself tvith such t^orts, had repeatedly challenged
him to a match ; and to gratify his master's taste
{cfF tins perverse i^ecreati<m, as well as to repay
some severe dbastisements whidi he had received
frt>m him, pohaps out of courtesy, — he had been in-
duced to enter the lists, and in the scuffle had
slightly wounded the King on the neck. But he
stated, in his defence, that he had received the
royal pardon for this assault, and had continued
long alter it to enjoy his frivour and confidence ;
a frict which his accusers could not deny, but they
alleged this forbearance was only temporary, and
mi^t be I'evoked at his Majesty's pleasure.

These several accusations put together wa«
considered as amoimting to high treason, and pumsh-
able by the Danish law with forfeiture, confisca-
tion, and death. The Count prepared himself to
meet his frite with becoming solemnity. The sa-
crament was administered to him, which he par-
took with every appearance of ardent devotion and
Christian penitence. Instead of sitting, he knelt

184 CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY.

down and received it with many tears, and with evi-
dent signs of inward hope.

Knowing the many injonons i-qports that ivere
spread of his behaviour in the time of his imprisoD-
ment, his confessor submitted to him, whether it
might not he advisable to make a declaration be-
fore proper witnesses what his real sentiments w&e.
With tins proposal he readily .complied; and, in pre-
sence of the Commander of the Castle, with seraal
olJier officers, he acknowledged his enrorB and his
misconduct, in having been led astray by bad ex-
amples ; he confessed that he had acted very in-
considerately, that his carelessness had been veiy
great, and in the begiiming of his imprisonment
had induced him to talk in 9. manner he was now
ashamed of ; though he was sure in his conscience
that many untruths were invented and pn^^agated
among the people, but he forgave those who had
been guilty c^ such things. He begged the Comman-
der and the other officers to forgive him, if, by his
levity, he had offended any one of them ; and wished
that God's mercy in Christ might alwa]^ attend
them as their greatest blessing. He confessefi
himself guilty before the omniscient God ; but that
without hypocrisy he had sought for the divine
mercy, which, through Christ, he hoped to x>btaiiL
He declared he was ready to die, and was not
afraid of it ; and spoke all this with such firmness,
and in terms so moving, that all present wei^B
greatly affected by it ; and sincerely wished God
would preserve hun in his happy situation of mind
to the last.

The morning of his execution he spent in de-
votion, and seemed firmly persuaded of his en-
trance into immortal glory. He had enjoyed soni^

COUNT BRANDT. 185

repose and was quite tra&qiiil. fa his prayers,
wmch were fervent and comprehensive, evincing
a presence of mind altogether astonidbing, he ex-
pressed himsetf as a penitent and humble sinner;
bat at ibe same time, as (me who entertained the
eurest hopes of pardon and acceptance. He prayed
for the Church of Christ, fmr the King and the
nation, for all that were misled by error and irre-
ygion. He thanked God for the mercies he had
i£ewOi him in his imprisonment ; intreated his fcnr-
giveness for all wherein he had offended others ;
and avowed his willingness to forgive those that
were his enemies. In readiiig the Lord's Phtyery
^Mduch he did with much attention, now and diea
adding rraoarks and explanations of his own, when
he prcmounced the words, ^ Forgive us our tres-
fMHSses, as we forgive them that trespass against
^By" he exclaimed, << Thou, O God and my Re-
deemer, who knowest my heart, and that of all
men, tikou knowest how free my heart is from
hatred and malice against any person whatever ;
and that I wish well to all, both iu this world and
that which is to come.''

When he had finished prayers, his chains, which
were fixed in the wall, were taken off ; and he put
on the clothes in which he intended to appear on
the scaffold* He drank a cup of coffee, and eat
something, walking up and down in the room,
which he could not do before. The prison-door
was then opened by the officer commissioned to
carry him to the place of execution. He ascended
the scaffold without fear or agitation, — heard his
sentence read, depriving him of his honours and
dignities ; and saw his coat-of-arms broken by the
hmd of the executioner After acknowled^n^

186 CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY.

the justice of Ids doom, and recd-ving the last be-
nedictioii of the Church, he undressed himself for
the block, and received his ]nii^shm^:it, amidst the
earnest prayers and intercessioais of his friends. -
The prececUng Narratiye contains the snbstaafie
of ihfl^t written by Dean Hee ; which he aeyer
would have puhUshed but for the sake of cosuftife-
ing the many fialse and unjust reports that wem
circulated of the Count, while he was a state-ini-
soner, and even after his death ; as if his repen-
tance had been hypocrisy, his fortitude and chees:*
fulness at death tenierity and presumption. It wai
to contradict; such cidumnies that he dsBW up hk
short account, chiefly from memory, as he kept tts
journal of his conferences, never having any inteir
tion to make them public But, as he hiniBelf ao^
knowledges, '< being fiilly convinced of the eoa-
trary, my cbnscienee would not permit me to keep
silence ; but rather to declare that the alteration
of his sentiments was unfeigned, and that he hea&
kened to the invitations of the Grospel. I do this
\dth so much the more readiness, since I believe
that the greatest part of what has been said, has
proceeded from a seal to promote the cause of in-
fidelity. There is a set of people who think it
their duty to defend incredulity, even at the ex-
pense of truth and conscience. They have assi-
duously propagated every thing that has been said
of the levity of behaviour in we Count, which I
myself observed act the beginning, but which he
owned and so much repented of afterwards."

The int^rity of Hee's motives, and the vera-
city of his whole statement will be readily admitted
by all who are not prepossessed against the sub-
ject ; or who do not treat with ridicule and scorn

<X)UNT BRANDT. 187

sHA accounts of reformed libertines and infidels^ as
tbe fables of weak, though it may be well-meaning
zeal. His narrative has nothing else but its truth
and authenticity to recommend it. There is no-
thing ornamental or elegant in the style, or inte-
resting in his discussions. He has not the ^o-
quence or the address of Dr Munter, nor the for-
cible and nenrous arguments of Bishop Burnet. But
his character as an honest man, and a divine of es-
tablished reputation, will make amends for minor
defects, and remove those unfavourable suspicions
which are apt to attach to confessions made in the
malefinctor's dungeon, or under the terrors of the
executioner's axe. He appears to have had no
oth^ design in view, than to promote the cause of
religion and virtue ; and to perform an office of
justice and humanity to the memory of an unfortu-
nate man, who, though a profligate and a criminal,
lived to abandon his errors, and wiped off the ig-
nominy of his fate, by dying in the faith and hope
of a CJiristiaa.

188 CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY.

LORD LYTTELTON-

There is in general an onfayourable impiseflsioa
mmexed to refonnations that begin on a MckTbed,
pr in the solitude of a prison. Many fujpe per*
«iiaded» tbati under such drcumstaincesy all coik-
fessions and resolutions of ainendment savour
much inore of en^usiasm than of reason ; and flow
rather from a sense of danger or a temporuy des-
pondency, which heal^ and freedom would speedily
wear Q&, than from a cwdial hatred and aversion
to sin, or a total change of heart a^d disposition.
They allege that the parties are in a state of un-
natuml excitement ; that it is impossible to place
any reliance on the siiicerity of their professions, or
the reality of the feelings which they express; and
which, however sincere at the time, can afford no
satisfactory proof as to the result, since, were they
released from disease and confinement, the probabi-
lity is, they would forget their resolutions wi^ their
fears, and relapse when exposed again to the op-
portunities and enticements of vice.

Much of that joy and tranquillity which appears
to soothe the departing moments of reformed
libertines, they ridicule as a delusive consolation,
and built on s, false security ; or they reckon it an
artificial courage, excited by ^e earnest, and often
injudicious exhortations of ministers, which inspire
them with the f eTvoxa oxvd boldness of martyrs ;

LORD IrYtTBLTON. 189

juisiog a confidence that must appear presnmp-
taaaa in their situation, and inconsistent with their
knowledge <^ religion. Their fsaikt they pretend,
is not founded on preference or conviction, — ^their
. hopes of futurity is a mere picture of the imagination,
—a fahric which their eager credulity has raised oJF
visions and shadows ; and which, descried through
^the mists and fiunes of an over-heated fimcy, is
easily mistaken fen: solid architecture.

Doubts and surmises of this kind are not unfre-
quent ; and they are often confirmed by experience
and observation, since it cannot be denied that
Yows and declarations made in adversity, are apt
.to be suggested by interested motives ; that they are
.sometimes retracted without scruple or remorse ;
.and prove as evanesceivt in their effects, as they
Jiave been sudden and unadvised in their forma-
tion. And it is equaUy true, that the Jughly-
-wrought and feverish excitements produced by a
few conferences on religion, or jij^a few days, can
Jnrnishno.i^'efnigable.evidencei^^i'^^ orgpardon;
.and often hove bat too little .reis^blance to the
.humble hope and discerning fcdth of a Christian.

Neither .can outward courage and firmness be
.interpreted as unequivocal proofs of that fortitude
and resolution which arise from well-grounded
conviction, and can be inspired only by a firm
belief in religion. Instances of .this intrepid spirit
may be found in the lowest extreme of human
xharacter, in the gloomy habitations of criminal
wretchedness, and among the hardened outcasts qf
^society. Many, even the worst of men« .have
quitted the world, not merely without dejection or
dismay, but with a surprising cahnness, and an air
^of triumph. Even under the delusion of false prin-

190 CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY.

ciplee, they have boldly adventured to contemplate
the king of terrors with a reckless and undainited
bravery. The feeblest mmds, and the basest of
onr passions, when strongly excited, have been
able to surmount these fears and apprehenfflons.
Indignant pride, disappointed ambition, inconsol-
able grief, have faced a thousand times the hornnB
of self-destruction, and embraced them as ^hte sweet
oblivion of thdr sorrows.

No inference, however, can be drawn from these
i^pearances, against the animating and tranquil-
lizing effects of religion, even on the minds of those
who have adopted it as an extr^ne resounie, and
peiiiaps without minutely investigating the evi-
dences of its truth. It does not follow that be-
cause some pretenders to conversion hare beoi
guilty of delusion and credulity, or affected sen-
timents and principles whidi they did not possess,
that all who have embraced Chnstianity m theff
last moments, and spoken with confidence of its
consolations and rewards, must necessarily be hy-
pocrites and enthusiasts. Such diarges might per-
Laps appear to be supported by reason, were the
arguments for religion never found to be irresis-
tible, but in the retreats of misery, or in the lan-
guor of affliction, — had it no victories to boast of,
but over hearts already soiled and subdued by mis-
fortune ; and if its evidences never convinced the
understanding, until disease had conquered the pas-
sions, or captivity withdrawn liie lil>ertine from
the external allurements of sense.

But Christianity has many trophies to reciMrd of
its^ success in vindicating its own auliiority, and
making the most refractory powers of human na-
ture bend to its influence. It has produced the

LORD LYTTELTON. 191

iame canvictioii on men of the greatest learningi
of sound and rational views, and who could not
be sniqpeeted, from their circumstances and profes-
sionsy of frsudnloice or inci^acity ; who have ex-
pkned its foundations with severe and impartial
tcntkxiyf and examined its pretensions with cdol
and matoie deliberation. It has even overcome the
malice and opposition of its declared enemies ; who
have sat in judgment upon it, not with the intention
of honest dealing, but with the disingenuity of find-
ing or making it false. Their discoveries hava
ended in their own confutation ; and they have risen
from the inquiry, convinced, in spite of their preju-
dices, and contrary to their expectations. They
have given to the world the strongest proofs of their
sincerity, by regulating their lives according to ita
precepts; exhibiting, in their conduct, an irre-
proacnable testimony to its truth, and a living
evidence of its excellence. Many have even en-
tered the lists as champions to maintain its purity,
and defend it against die assaults of its adversa-
ries, distingnislmig themselves as popular and able
writers in die theological controversies of their day.
And however mu<£ they may have differed in
their previous habits and pursuits, yet, when
brought under the sceptre of religion, and made
to feel its transforming power, they are found to
be united in one common sympathy, — ^to breathe
one common sphit, — and preserve a uniformity of
characto', which identifies their belief as one rul-
ingprincrole common to them aU.

That Christianity carries with it sufficient proofs
of its divine origin ; that it repays the trouble of
a serious and candid examination, with complete
conviction, whatever may have been the nature or

192 coNvcaTs fkom mnDBLirr,

force of pre-conc^Ted opinioiiB, are trada wtish
were proyed and exemplified in the fife of llie
eminent iadiyidnal who fonne the mdject of llie
piesent sketch ; — a nobleman ¥idio made no in-
oonsiderable figure, both in the political and Bte-
nuy annals of his country ; and who gaiifed no
mean distinction, as a poet, an orotory a stateaman,
and a huBtorian.

George, Lord Lttteltok, was the eldest
son of Sir Thomas Lyttelton of Hagley, Barmiet,
in the county of Worcester, where he was boniy
17th January, 1709. His birth, it appears, wis
premature by two months ; and like Addisoii)
Doddridge, and ▼arions other men of talmits, be
was not expected to live. Genius, like some deli-
cate plants of the rarest virtues, often requires to
be fostered into existence, and is reared with-
great difficulty. At an early age he was sent
to Eton school, where he received the elements
of his education. Here he soon began to display
a poetical genius, by writing pastorals, and other
light pieces ; and to distinguish himself by the
superiority of his academic exercises, which were
recommended to his school-fellows as models for
imitation.

From Eton he was removed to the University
of Oxford, and entered to Christ-Church, whera
he pursued his studies with great ardour and in-
dustry, and fully sustained the high character he
had iJready acquired. It was during his short ca*
reer at the University that he gave to the world
his poem on <' Blenheim," a field which has been
rendered immortal by one of Marlborough's most
splendid victoties. This production, though not

LORD LYTTBLTOK. 193

pofisesfflog great force or elegance oi rennfication;
'firas respectable for a youth of sixteen, and gave
promise of future excellence. Here also he wrote
his ^ Progress of Loye," and sketched the plan of
bis ^ Persian Letters," which afterwards gained
bin) great reputation ; not only on account of the
beauty of their composition, but also lor the ex-
cellent observations they contained on the manners
of mankind, though perhaps they breathed too
much of that ardent and undefined passion for
liberty, which a man of genius always catches
when he first entm« the world. It appears, how-
ever, that in after life, when his notions of liberty
were modified by time and experience, he re-
tracted some of the principles and sentiments
which he had then entertained.

Haying finished his Uniyersity studies, Mr
Lyttelton, in- 1728, being his nineteenth year, set
out on his travels, to make the tour of Europe,
which- was then, and is still esteemed necessary to
complete the education of an accomplished gentle-
man. On his arrival at Paris, he accidentally be-
came acquainted with the Hon. Mr Poyntz, the
British minister at the Court of Versailles, who
was so much pleased with the superior talents of
the young traveller, that he invited him to his-
house, and employed him in several political nego-
ciations; which he executed not only to his entire^
satisfacticm, but with surprising judgment and abi»
lity. After continuing for a considerable time at
Paris, he proceeded to Lyons and Greneva : thence
to Turin, where he was honoured with very flat-
tering attentions firom the King of Sardinia. He
next visited Milan, Venice, Genoa, and the far-
fiuned capital of Italy, where he studied the fine

R

194 CONVERTS FROM IKFIIXLITY.

arts with uncommon ardotv and sQccess, so that
even in that celebrated city, he was esteemed a
perfect judge of painting, scnlptnie, and architeo-
ture.

Daring the whole of his trayels, his moral ccm-
dnct appears to have been highly correict and ex-
emplary, and he displayed a literary enthusiasni,
rarely to be met with among yotmg men of fortime.
Instead of spending his time at the cc^ee-honses fre-
quented by the English, and indxdging in all the fa-
shionable Tices and follies of the countries through
which he passed, his constant practice was to £-
Tide his hours alternately between study, and the
society of men of diRtingnished character, or lite-
rary acquirements. By such habits alone, be con-
sidered that the great object of trayelling, — the en-
lai^emfflit of the mind, — could oyer be effectually
accomplished ; and this object he nerer ceased to
pursue with the most laudable diligence and zeal.
With his relations and friends at home, he re-
gularly corresponded. Several of his letters to
his father are still extant, no less admirable for the
elegance of their composition, than for their ex-
pressions of filial affection and duty ; and they dis-
play acute judgment and soimd principles, as well
as tender attachment to his relations.

From Paris he sent a poetical epistle to his re-
lation, Dr Ayscough, in which he alludes to the
objects and advantages he sought in foreign travel :

Me other cares in other climes engage,
Cares that become my birtli and suit my age ;
In various knowledge to improve mj youth.
And conquer prejudice — worst foe to truth ;
By foreign arts domestic faults to mend,
Enlarge my notions and my views extend.
The useful science of the world to know,
"Wfeich books can ive^x \A«kt\i, Ti« ^^d&tvts shew.

LORD LYTTELTOK. 195

From Rome he wrote another to Mr Pope,
wldch displays much good taste and felicity of ver-
fiifica^n, and has been prefixed, in some editions,
to the wcfrka of that admirable poet. Mr Lyttel-
,ton had formed an early acquaintance, and a great
.intimacy with that distin^^uished &yourite of the
JMvses ; aiM when he was advanced to power, he
.forgot not the ^end of his youth. Thek attach-
jBeut was reciprocal, and Mr Pope's hi^ opinion of
Jmn is thus expressed in a letter to Dean Swift,
.^ He 19 one of those," says he, '^ whom his own
.merit has forced nie to contract an intimacy with,
Jifter I had ^wo^i never to love a man more, since
.the sorrow it cost me to have loved so many now
dead, banished, or unfortunate ; I mean Mr Lyttel-
ton, one of the worthiest of the rising generation."

Upon his return from the continent in 1729,
with every acqomplislunent to recommend and
advance him in the world, he was made Page of
}umour to the Princess Royal, and 80<m after was
elected member of Parliament for the borough of
.Oakhampton in Devonshire ; which he continued
fo represent in several Parliaments, to the entire
^atis^tion of his constituents, who re-elected
without putting him to the ustial expense attend-
ing such occasions. When he entered upon his
parliamentary career, the anti-ministerial party
were using every effort to remove Sir Robert Wal-
pole. Mr Lyttelton eagerly enlisted under the
banners of the opposition, and soon distinguished
himself as a leader among the ranks of Wal-
pole's enemies; although £as father, who was a
Commissioner of the Admiralty, always supported
the measures of the Court. For many years, the
name of IL.yttelton was in every account of every

196 CONVERTS VROM IKFIDELITT.

debate in the House of Commons. He spoke with
ease and fluency, though his oratory was marked
with elegance and good sense, rather than with the
fenrour of genius. He disapproved of the exdse,
as an unnecessary restriction upon trade^ and -coh
posed the standing army as burdensome iqp^-tM
nation. Warmed with a patriotic ardour, which
generallT glows in the bosom of virtuous imd Hb»-
ral youth, he keenly supported the moticMi for pe-
titioning the King, to remove that veteraB jnioister
who had so long directed the councils of the Bri-
tish nation; and the powerful eloquence of the
young orator rendered his <^po6iti<HL very formi-
dable to the declining party, tnough his zeal was
considered, even by his own Mends, as too violent
and acrimonious.

Soon after he had entered Parliament, his public
conduct recommended him to the friendship of
Frederick, Prince of Wales, father of his late Ma-
jesty, George III. who, being driven from St
James's, (1737), kept a separate Court, and set
himself at the head of the oppontion. Lytteholi
was appointed Secretary to his Royal Highness,
and was supposed, from his particular intimacy, to
have great ii^uence in the direction of his con-
duct. As it was the business of the IVince, in his
present circumstances, to increase his popularitVy
ne was advised by his Secretary, to extend his
patronage to literary men ; and, accor^ngly, he be-
came the friend and patron of many ennnait cha-
racters, as Hammond, Thomson, West, Pq>e,
Fielding, and Youi^. Mallet was made undeiv-
secretary, with a salary of £200. The Author of
the Seasons was mtrodnced to the Prince, and ba-
il^ interrogated about the state of his affiursy ha

LORD LYTTELTON. l97

r^W^U *^ that they were in a more poetical pos-
pflfe than formerly/' and had a pension allowed
bim of £ 100, a-year.

. Meanwhile the varions avocations of Mr J^yttel-
tan did not prey^it him from cultivating those ta-
lents' whidi he was the means of rewarding in
ptiiers* He produced about' this lime a number
of little poetical pieces of remarkable bieauty and
teadexness. He had a happy ftucility of paying ex-
tempore ccmipliments, which often gained him no
small deputation. Being in company one evening
urith Lord Cobham and several of the nobility, his
Lordship mentioned his intention of placing a bust
of Lady Suffolk in a wood at Stowe, and tumine
to Mr Lyttehon, said, '* George, you must furnish
me with a motto for it ;" winch he immediately
did in the following couplet : —

Her wit and beauty for a Court were made,
But truth and goodness fit her for a shade.

Upon another occasion^ when Mr Pitt, after-
Wards Earl of Chatham, lost his commission in the
Guards, ii| consequence of his spirited behaviour
in Parliament, Mr Lyttelton, on hearing the cir-
cumstance, instantly produced these lines : —

Xiong had thy yirtues mark'd thee out for fame,
Far, far superior to a Cornet's name ;
This generous Walpole saw, and grieved to find
So mean a post disgrace that noble mind ;
The servile standard from thy free-bom hand
He took, and bade thee lead the patriot band.

In 1741, he was united to a most amiable young
lady, whose diarms had often inspired his Muse,
and to whom he had been for some time very ten-
derly attached. She was the daughter of Hugh
Fortescue, Esq. of Hlleigh in Devonshire, and sia-

Ii2

198 COKVERTS FROM IKVmELITT.

ter to Matthew, Lord Fortescue. • In mukj re-
spects he was exceedmgly fortunate in the cboieo
he had made. Her yirtnous principles, and yaiied
accomplishments, together with the amiable <Ba«
positi<ms oi her heart, . seemed to promise -every
requisite Cm: ^connubial felicity. But unha{^y il
was not of long continuance : for the object of hia
fondest affections was tarn from his bosom a few
years after their umon. She left him a son, Thomas
afterwards Jjord Lyttelton, and two duuf^tenj one
of whom was married to Viscoimt Valentia. To so-
lace his grief, he wrote the beautiful and well-known
lines which are inscribed on her tomb ; together
with & long poem to her memory, which will con-
tinue to be admired, whilst conjugal affection^ and
a taste for poetry exist.

He did not, howeyer, continue a widower longer
than three years; when he again sought happiness
in a second marriage, with iiSizabeth, daughter of
Held-Marshal Sir Robert Rich, an intimate friend
of his former wife ; but unfortunately hb hopes
were disappointed. Her imprudent conduct gave
him great uneasiness, and a separation, by mutual
consent, took place a few years after tneir mar^
riage.

In 1744, a revolulion in die Cabinet opened a
way for the minority to power and prefermnnt ;
for after a long course of opposition. Sir Robert
Walpole, that highly gifted minister, at length was
obliged to retreat, and gave room for his enemies
to share among them hu hononrs and emolumenta
Among others, Mr Lyttelton was now admitted
into the ministry. He was appointed one of the
Lords Commissioners of the Treasury, and exerted
all his eloquence ttnd £e«I in eu^^rting the mea-
sures of his party.

LORD LTTTBLTON. 199

During bis contimiaiice in that station, lie main-
lined his fonner credit, by using his influence in
ffomoting the interests of science and litemtnre.
kU those OTdinent men whom he had akeady re-
ommended to the Prince of Wales, he continued
patronize. For Thomson, especially, he re-
ahrad a particolar regard, and was now able to
ikce him in independence. He confeired upon
lim the office of Surreyor-Genend of the Lee-
rard islands, from which, after his deputy's sa-
vry was deducted, he received about three hun-
[red pounds per annum. Tlie Mendship and
lenerosity of his noble patron, the gratefid poet
las celebrated in immortal Terse, haying dedicated
him a rery beautifid and picturesque episode
a his Spring.

Lyttelton, the friend ! thy passions thus.
And meditations vary as at large,

Courting the muse, thro* Hagley Park thou strayest ;

Thy British Tempe ! There aJong the dale,

"With woods o*erhung, and shagg'd with mossy rocka—

You silent steal ; or sit beneaS the shade

Of solemn oaks, that tuft the sweUing mounts.

And pensive listen to the various ^Foioe

Of rural peace> ■

1 From these abstracted, oft
Tou wander through the philosophic world ;
Where in bright train continual wonders rise,
Or to the cunoua, or the pious eye.

And oft, conducted by historic truth,

You tread the long extent of backward time;

planning, with warm benevolence of mind.

And honest teal, unwarp*d by party rage,

Britannia's weal ; liow from the venal gulfii.

To raise her virtue, and her arts revive.

Ot turning thence thy view, these graver thoughta

The Muses charm ; while, with sure taste refin d.

You draw th* inspiring breath of ancient song.

Till nobly rises, emulous, thy own.

^00 CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY.

Upon the death of the poet, who had lefr his
affidrs in much emharrassment, notwithstanding his
income, Mr Lyttelton undertook to reTise bis
Tragedy of Coriolanus ; and hrought it upon the
stage, for the henefit of his family, recommended
hy a prologue, in which he so affectingly lamented
the loss of ^e ^^>arted bard, that Sxe audience
were melted into tears. By this tragedy, Mr
Lyttelton realized a considerable sum, wita pari
of which he dischaiged the poet's debts, an4 the
surplus he remitted to his sister, whom he ^Lbq
^k imder his protection.

In 1751, Mr Lyttelton, by the death of his
father, succeeded to the title of Baitmet, wilb a
very considerable estate, to which he made Httle
addition; but he spared no expense to adorn it with
an elegant mansion, and to heighten the charms
of that rural scenery which the poet of the Seasons
has so beautifully described, and which rendered
Hagley one of the most delightful residences in
the kingdom.

His exertions in Parliament, and the esteem in
which he was deservedly held, contributed to raise
him still higher in the scale of political prefer-
ment ; and accordingly, in 1754, hating resigned
his office of Lord of we Treasury, he was made
Cofferer to his Majesty's Householdt and awom
of the Privy Counol. Next year he exchanged
this a{^intment for that of Chancellor of the
Exchequer, in the room of Mr Legge. He soon
found, however, that his qualifications were in-
adequate to the difficult duties of that high office ;
for however great were his oratorial powers,—
his talents as a wiiter, — and his other accomplish-
ments ; in calcQlttdona^ttodouthe subject of fiiumce^

LORD LYTtELTOK. 201

he was very defident ; for it is no less remaricable j
than trae, that he never could comprdiend tha V .j
mOBt common roles of arithmetic. ^

The year after his elevation to the Chancellor-
flbip d the Exchequer, his curiosity \ed him to
-visit the -interestmg -district of Wdee, which he
-described to a £riend in a very picturesque style,
Imt with perhaps too much affectation of delight.
About the same time he published his '' Dialogues
of the Dead/' in which the morality of Fenelon,
and the spirit of Fontenelle, are happily blended.
They were eagerly read, and much admired at
the time, thou^ they seem rather ibe effusions of
-al^isoze hour, than the production of carefid study.

He contkiued to hold^is place in the cabinet,
'^ near the termination of the reign of his sove-
reign, when a change in the ministry was rendered
-necessary by the commencement of the continen-
tal war. Retiring from employment imder the
crown, he was recompensed for his services with a
peerage, by letters patent, dated the 1 9th of Novem-
•ber, 1757, by -^ style and title of Xord Lyttelton,
Baron of Frankley in the county of Worcester.
He now rested from ministerial turbidence and
public responsibility, but occasionally delivering
bis opinion in the House of Lords with his usual
Acuteness and eloquence.

Politics, however, even in the ardour and bustle
of parliamentary life, were not allowed to engross
altogether his attention. It is well known, that, at
an early period, his mind had become tinctur^d with
Bceptiau principles ; and he was iong possessed
wiu the most serious doubts of the truth of Chris-
tianity. Of these doubts it is not now easy toas-
certain the cvigki or the eausei Hiey arose in

202 CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY.

party most probably^ from a anperficsial acq;Baa-
taace with religioiii as he appean to hayp studied
the subject only so far as to discoTer th(it it coor
tained mysteries which he ^^ouldnot comprphoid.
In the pride of juvenile cmifidence, whidi is im-
patient imder dif&culties that impede the ar^oiff
of mental pursuit; and forgetting the impotence
of human reason to scan the woiics of the Almi^ity,
or penetrate the secrets of ipfinite wisdom, he was
disposed to reject revelation as prc^poun^oigtliingi
hard to be understood ; without cf^asidering the
tendeucy of its doctrines, or examining the evi-
dence on which they were foun4ed.

In Uiis state of imperfect knowledge, vod pre-
sumptuous reliance oi^ tlie supposed omnipotence
of reason, it is not si^iising that he should hasfe
listened to the blandishments of infidelity. Ea-
^tering into the world with thpse sceptical tenr
dendes, the society widi which he nnqgled, upfpr*
tunately contributed rather to eonfiim thim to
jemove them. It does not appear what injlaenc(8
his visit to the continent had upon his religious

{rineiples, although, it is more than prpbable, that
e could not breath in so tainted an atmosphere,
without imbibing a portion of its contagioii. Co^
tain it is, however, that the companions with
which he associated, strengthened his prejudices
figainst the Christian religion ; and if they did not
succeed in making him a confirmed infidel, they
sapped the foimdation of his faith, and impressed
his mind with scruples and objectLoAS that remained
>vith him for years.

. , But amidst all his scruples he still kept himself
open to conviction; and was ready to listen to
aj]gument8| and to weigh them with inipartiality.

LORD LTTTELTON 209

n tUfl tuuiettled state between dnbiety and dis-
feliefy he continned until his thirty-serenth year^
ad then he thought the time was come when he
mgfat no longer to doubt or beliere by chance.
1 conrersation, it appears, with his frigid West,
tt Wkkbam, produced that happy resolution whidi
et him to study and investigate the Scriptures,
?hether or not they contain me words of eternal
ife. To the solution of this hnportant question
le applied himself with all possible candour, and
samestness. He conversed with learned and re-
igions frifflids on the subject He examined with
tttention the evidences and doctrines of Chris-
ianity;(uid his researches being honest, ended
n convic{ion.\ He foimd that it was a true reli-
^on, that it was stamped throughout with indu-
>itable characters of its divine original.

What he had thus learned he was anxious to com-
municate to others ; which he immediately did by
ivriting and publishing his admirable Dissertation
HI the Conversion of St Paul ; a treatise which is
dlowed to be a masterly performance of the con-
troversial kind> and to wmch, as Dr Johnson ob-
serves, infidelity has never been able to fabricate
I specious answer. It obtaified for him much ap-
phmse from the friends of religion, and even of lite-
rature. The University of Oxford, as an expression
>f their approbation, offered to confer on the
ivriter the degree of Doctor of Laws ; which, how-
ever, he refrised, saying, that he chose not to be
inder any particular obligation ; that, if he should
liappen to write any thing of the like kind in fu-
ture, it might not appear to proceed from any other
motive whatever, tnan a pure desire of doing good.
To none W9a it more grateful than to his owh fa-

904 comnotTS vaoM ihvidilitt.

tiMTy who thus FBGordB hSm happineae^ and lui
opmion of iJie perfomiaiice^ in a my afifoctMoati

lettef.

" I have read yoorreligioiutreatiae with infimtt
pleasure and sadsfiEurtion. The at^e ia fine an
clear, the argomenta doee, cogent, and i rre ei g tibk
May the King of kinga, whoae gloriooa canse yoi
have Bo well defended, reward your jnons laboon
and grant that I may be found worthy, tfanragfa tfa*
merits of Jesus Christ, to be an eye witness of tha
hi^piness which I douot not he wiU bonntifiilly be
stow upon you* ^ In the meantime, I ahall ae?e
cease glorifying God for haying endowed yon vitl
anch useful talents, and given me so good a son.

Your affectionate Father,

Thomab LytteltonJ

Of this Dissertation, published in 1747, we nee(
only observe at present, that it is the best and mos
original of all Lyttelton's works. It was wiittei
by the advice of Mr West, in consequence of i
suggestion dropt by his friend in conversation, thai
he thought the Conversion and Apostleship of S
Paul alone, duly considered, was of itself a de
mDnstration sufficient to prove Christianity to be i
divine religion ; independent of all the other proofi
of it, which might be drawn from prophecies ii
the Old Testament; from the necessary connec*
tion it has with the whole system of the Jewish re*
lig^on ; from the miracles of Christ, and from th(
evidence given of his resurrection, to all the othei
apostles. A proof so compendious,. Mr West was
persuaded, might be of use to convince those unbe-
fierers who unll not attend to a longer series o\

LORD LYTTELTON* 205

arguments. To this Innt we owe the excellent
*^ Observations on the Conversion and- Apostleship
of St Paul:*' of which the reader wilV find sub-
joined a pretty fidl analysis of the leading argu-
ments or propositions.

Afiter his retirement from public life, Lord
Lyttellon devoted himself to literary pursuits. His
time was chiefly occupied in preparing his History
of Henry XL which he has enriched with the re-
searches and deliberations of twenty years ; and in
which he endeavoured to present an accurate and
comprehensive view of the English constitution at
that early period ; and of the changes subsequent to
the Norman conquest. The style of this work is
p^Bpicuous and unaffected, often rising to forcer
and elegance. His sentiments are judicious and
liberal, and favourable to the rights and interests
of mankind. Though not popular, it retaios its
character as a standard work. Hayley, in his
Essay on History^ alludes to it in tbe following
elegant lines : —

See candid Lyttelton, at length unfold
The deeds of liberty, in days of old !
Fond of the theme, and narrative with age,
He winds the lengthen'd tale thro' many a page ;.
But' there- the beams of patriot virtue shine;
There troth and fireedom sanctify tbe line ;
And laurels, due to civil wisdom, shield
This noble Nestor of the historic field.

The character of Lord Lyttelton now stood de-
servedly high, both on account of his public con-
duct, and the fame of his literary productions.
But his mortal career was now hastening to a
close. His appearance never was that of a strong
or of a heallhy man. He had a slender, ema-
ciated frame, and a meagre £Eice : he arrived, how^

208 CONVERTS FROM INTIDELITY.

ever, at a considerable age, notwithstanding the
infirmities of his constitation. Of Ids last illness
and death, which took place at his seat of Hagley,
in the sixty-fourth year of his age, a very full and
affecting account has been given by his physidan,
Dr Johnson of Kidderminister ; which, as it containB
some very instructive traits of his moral character,
we shall here subjoin.

^' On Sunday evening the symptoms of hit
Lordship's disorder, which for a week past had
alarmed us, put on a fatal appearance, and his
Lordship believed himself a d^ng man. From
this time he suffered by restlessness rather than

Sain; though his nerves were apparently mudh
uttered, ms mental faculties never seemed
stronger, when he was thoroughly awake. Hw
Lordship's bilious and hepatic complsunts seemed
alone not equal to the expected mournful event ;
his long want of sleep, whether the consequence
of the irritation in the bowels, or, which is more
probable, of causes of a different kind, accounts for
ids loss of strength, and for his death, very suffi-
ciently.

« Though his Lordship wished his approaching
dissolution not to be lingering, he waited for it
with resignation. He said, '^ It is a folly, a keep-
ing me in misery, now to attempt to prolong life ;"
yet he was easily persuaded, for the satis&ction of
others, to do or tiJce any thing thought proper for
him. On Saturday he had been remarkably bet-
ter, and we were not without hopes of his re-
covery.

" On Sunday, about eleven in the forenoon, his
Lordship sent for me, and said he felt a great hea-
viness; and wished to have a little conversation with

LORD LYTTELTON. 207

me, in order to divert it. He then proceeded to
open the fountain of that heart, from whence good-
ness had so long flowed, as from a copious spring.
^ Doctor," said he, ^ you shall he my confessor
•when I first set out in the world, I had friends
who endeayoured to shake my belief in the Clffi»-
4ian religion. I saw difficulties which staggimsd
me ; but I kept my mind open to conrietion. The
evidences and doctrines of Chrktianity, stndied
with attention, made me a most firm and pei^
iniaded believer of the Christian religion. I have
wade it the rule of.my life ; and it is the ground of
■my future hopes. I have erred and sinned; hut
have, nepentml, and never indulged any vidons
bahit. In politics, a;nd public life, I have made
pmblic good the rule of my condnct. I never gave
counsels which I did not at the time think the best.
I have seen that I was sometimes in the wrong ;
bnt I did not err designedly. I have endeavoured
in private life, to do all the goodinmy power,and
never fcff a m<nnent could indulge malicious or un^-
just dewgns upon any person whatsoever." At
another time he said, ^' I must leave my soul in
the same state it was before this illness ; I find
this a very inconvenient time for solicitude about
any thing. '

• '< On t^e evening, when the symptoms of death
came on, he said, '^ I shall die ; but it will not be
your feult." When Lord and Lady Valenlia-came
to see his Lordship, he gave him his solemn bene-
diction, and said, ^' Be good, be virtuous, my
Lord; you must cdme to this." Thus he con-
tinued ^ving his dying benediction to all around
him. On Monday morning, a lucid interval gave
some small hopes, but these vanished in the even*

208 CONVERTS FROM INVIDILITT.

ing; and he contmned dfing, but with reiy Ihde
uneasiness, till Tuesday morning, August SSnd,
1773, when, between seven and eight o'dock, he
expired, ahnost without a groan."

The works of Lord Lyttelton, most of wUdi
have been mentioned in me order of time in which
they were written, c^aim for him a very respeet-
«ble rank among our noble authors. Ilis poems
still preserve a place among the select prodnctioiiB
of the British Muse ; rather, however, on account
of their correctness and elegance d ^dicticm, -and
the delicacy of their sentiment, than im exhil^tii^
any uncommon poetical talents. They are pe-
rused with pleasure rather than admiiation ; and if
they do not always rise to s\^blimity, they contain
nothing offensive. Though rigid criticism mav
find ol^ections in some of them, they display much
tenderness of feeling, and not unfrequently discover
a force of imagination, and a power of poetry,
which cultivation might have raised to excdlence.
Four of his speeches may be found in the edition
of his Works by Ayscough, which display sound
views, powerful eloquence, and inflexible integ-
rity : That on the Scottidi Bill, 1747 ; on the Mu-
tiny Bill ; and more particularly on the clause con-
coming Half-pay Officers, 1751 ; on the repeal of
tlie act called the Jew BUI, 1753 ; and one in the
House of Lords, 1763, concerning Privilege of Par-
liament, as extending to cases of writing and pub-
lishing seditious libels.

But the most popular and most valuable iff -his
productions, is his Diss^tation on the Conversion
of St Paul, written, as we have observed, after he
had renounced his sceptical sentiments, and be-
come a confirmed believer in the ^th of Chris-

LORD LYTTELTON. 209

.tianity* In this treatise, he has advocated very
.ably the cause of religion, and executed with suc-
cess the design with mich he set out. Great hopes
were entertained of its utility, and time has now
jdiewn that this expectation was not ill-founded ;
for it is esteemed' one of the most masterly de-
fences of the Christian religion that has appeared,
fudd has been the means of recommending and pro-
inoting it in various parts of the world.

The author first considers the account which
St Paul himself has given of the miraculous man-
ner of his conversion, recorded both in the Acts
of the Apostles, and in several of his own Epistles ;
and thence ha deduces the following alternative,
viz. That the person attesting such things of him-
self, either was an impostor, who said what he
Ipiew to be folse, with an intent to deceive ; or he
was an enthusiast, who, by the force of an over-
heated imagination, imposed on himself; or he
was deceived by the fraud of others ; Or, lastly,
what he declared to be the cause of his conversion,
and to have happened in consequence of it, did all
really happen ; and therefore the Christian reli-
gion is a divine revelation.

That he was not an impostor, who said what he
knew to be false, with an intent to deceive, must
appear evident by considering, that the apostle
could have no rational motive to undertake such
an imposture ; nor could he possibly have canied
it on with any success, by the means we know he
employed. As to the inducements to such ap im-
posture, they must have been either the hope of
advancing himself by it, in his temp<Hral interest,
credit, or power ; or the gratification of some of
his passions under its authority, and by the means
it aBbrded.

1K10 CONVERTS FROM IKFIDELITT.

The fomier of these motives wffl not bear oat
the supposition in question ; the party he abaiv*
doned, the doctrines he espoused, t& prejudices he
opposed, are all against it. The drcumstaneei
^nnder iviiidi he became a disciple of Christ, riieir
that it could be with no hope of increaong his
power or his wealth. The certain consequence of
his taking such a part, was not only the loss of all
he had, but of all hopes of acquiring more. ThosiB
whom he had left, were the disposers of wealtl^
of dignity, of power, in Judea. Those whom he
went to, were indigent men, oppressed and isept
down from all means of improting their fortunes;
Those among them who had m(H*e dian the rest,'
shared what they had with their brethren ; but»
, with this assistance the whole community was
hardly supplied with ^e necessaries of iife. And
even in dburches he afterwards planted himself
which were much more wealthy than that of Je-
rusalem, so fax was St Paul from availing himself of
their charity, or the veneration they had for him,
in order to draw that wealth to himself, that he
often refrised to take any part of it even for neces*
sary purposes. It is most evident, dierefore, both
from ihe state of the Church when St Faul fint
came into it, and from his behaviour afterwards,
that he had no thoughts of increasing his wealth,
by becoBung a Christian : whereas, by continuing
to be dieir enemy, he had almost certain hopes <»
making his fortune, by the favour of those who
; wore at the head of the Jewidi state ; to whom no-
thing could more recomm^id him than the zeid
he flhewed in that persecution*

As to credit or reputation, these too lay all on
the side he foraook; \hj& «iq^ b& embcaced was un-

X.ORI) LYTTELTON. 21 1

der l!he greatest and most umversal contempt of
^nythen in the world. "Bie 'chiefs and leaders of
it were men of the iowest hirth, education, and
rank. They had not one advantage of parts, or
leartdne, or other hnman endowments, to recom-
mend ' wm. The doctrines they taught were con-
trary to ibose \diich they who were accounted the
wisest and the most knowing of their nation pro-
fessed. Hie wonderful works that they>did, were
either imputed to magic, or to imposture. The
very Auwor and Head of their faith <had heen con-
denmed as a criminal, and died on llie cross be-
tween two dieiyes. Could the disciple of Gama^
liel think he should gain any credit or reputation
by becoming a teadier in a college of fishermen ?
CoaM he flatter -himself that either in or out of
Judea, die doctrines he taught could do him any
hottonr ? No ; he knew very well that the preach-
ing of Christ crucified was a stumbling-block to
die Jewsj and to the Greeks foolishness. He after-
wards found by experience, that in all parts of ihe
world, contempt was the portion of whoever te-
gaged in preaoiing a mystery so impalatableto the
world, to all its passions and pleasures ; and so ir-
reconcilable to the pride of human reason. Yet he
went on as zealously as he set out, and was not
i^hanwd of the gospel of Christ. Certainly then,
the deane of glory, the ambition of making to him-
self a grest name, was not his motive to embrace
durisdanity.

Neither eoidd it be tJie love of power. Power 1
4>v«r whom? over a flock of sheep driven to liie
slaughter, whose Shepherd himself had been mv^
dered a little before. All he could hope firom
that power, was to be marked out in a particular

212 CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY.

manner for the same knife^ wluch he had aeen ao
bloodily drawn against him* Could ha expect iqioro
mercy from the chief priests and the nuers* ihan
they nad shewn to Jesns himself? Would not thnr
anger be fiercer against the deserter and betrnffer
of their cause> than against any other of uie
apostles? But he had not eren the desire of
usurping any ambitious sway among them. He aft-
sumed no authority over the Christians. He pre-
tended to no superiority over the other apostles, hut
declared himself the kmtofthen^ and less than (he
hast of aU saifUs. Even in the churches he himself
planted, he never pretended to any primacy or power
above the other apostles ; nor would he be regarded
any otherwise by them, than as the iQstmment to
them of the grace of God, and {Hr^acfi^ of the
gospel ; not as the head of a sect : All the autho-
rity he exercised over them was purely of a spi-
ritu^ nature, tending to their instn^ction and edi-
fication ; without any mixture of that civil dominimi
in whidi alone an impostor can find his account.
His was not that imhaUowed ambition if hich
would convert religion into a mere engine in sup-
port of temporal power ; as has been done by many
ancient legislators, as well as by all those preten-
ders to divine revelation, and others whom his-
tory mentions, in different a^^es and countries. He
innovated nothing in government or civU a£^ursy—
he meddled not with leg^lation, — ^he formed no
commonwealth, — ^he raised no seditions, — he af-
fected no temporal power. Obedience to their
rulers was the doctrine he taught to the churches
he planted ; and what he tat^ht he practised him-
self. Nor did he use any of those soothing arts
hj which ambiUoua and cunning men recon^end

LORD LTTTLETOK. 21S

themselves to the fitvoiur of those whom they en-
deavour to subject to their power.

He did not even affect m absolate spiritual
power over the churches he planted. He preached
Christ Jesns, and not himself. Christ was the
head, he only the minister; and -for such only he
gave himself to them. He caUed those who as-
sisted him in preaching the gospel, his fellow-la-
bonrera and fellow-servants. And so far was he
from taking any advantage of a higher education,
superior learning, and more intercourse with the
w(H*ld, to claim to himself any supremacy above
^le other apostles, that he put himself quite on a
4evel with them, and made light of all these at-
tiunments.

*But had he been an impostm*, whose aim was
^wer, he would have acted a contrary part ; he
would have availed himself of all those advan-
tages, — ^he would have extolled them as highly as
possible, — ^he would have set up himself, by virtue
of them, as head of that sect to which he ac-
ceded, or at least of the proselytes made by him-
self. This was no m(H*e than was done by every l^
philosopher who formed a school ; mncji more ^
was it natural in one who propagated a new reli-
gion.

Had the apostle been actuated by i^e same lust
of dominion as the Bishops of Rome, or aspired
to be the monarch of Christendom, he was much
Hketier than they to have succeeded in such an at-
tempt. It was much, easier for jiim to make him-
self head of a few poor mechanics and ^shermen,
whose superior he confessedly was in point of
abilities, than for the Roman Pondff to have usurp-
ed an vn^sputed supremacy over the powers and

214 CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY.

principalitieB of the world. They had to tn
thmr ckdms in direct contradictum to Scri]
while he had every opportiimt7<^wn8tiiigScri
in fitYonr of his pretennona. He could eaiil)
corrnpted a £utn not yet fiiUy known ; and f
in many places, could only he known hy wi
paUiahed himself. Now, had he heen an imp
Le woold not have con&uid hims^ to qnot
aame gospel as was dellTered hy the other ape
when he had such a latUnde to preach wli
pleased, without contradiction. He wonld :
Lave twisted and warped the doctrines of Ch
hia own ends, to the particular use and ezpec
of his own followers, and to the peculiar si
and increase of his own power.

That this was not done hy St Paul, <Nr h;
other of the apostles, in so many Tarioas pa
the world where they travelled, and in cba
absolutely under their own direction; tb
gospel preached by them all, should be on
the same, the doctrines agreeing in every pi
lar, without any one of them attributing m<
himself than he did to the others, or establ
any thing, even in point of order or disc;
different from the rest, or more adyantage<
his own int^est, credit, or power, — ^is a most i
and convincing proof of their not being imp4
but acting entirely by divine inspiration.

As it appears then, that St Paul had noth
gain by acting the part he did, let it be cons
on the other hand, what he gave up, and w]
had reason to fear.

He gave up a fortune, which he was in tl
way of advancing. He gave up that repu
which he had acquired by the labours and a

LORD LYTTLETON. 215

of his whole lifo. He gave np bis friends, his
relations and ftunily, from whom he estranged and
banished himself for life. He gave np ihaX reli-
gion ** which he had profited in, above many of
Mb equals in his own nation ; and those traditions
of his fathers, which he had been more exceed-
ingly zealous of;" a sacrifice, hard to a man of his
warm temper, and especially to a Jew, — a nation
known to have been more tenadons of their reli-
gions opinions, than any other npon the face of the
earth. The departing, therefore, so suddenly, firom
the favoorite tenets of the proudest and strictest
sect among the Jews, and from their disciple be-
coming ih&T enemy, was a most difficult effort
for one to make, so nursed up in the esteem oi
ihem, and whose early prejudices were so strongly
confirmed by all the power of habit, all the au-
thority of example, and all the allurements of ho-
nour and interest.

These were the sacrifices he had to make in be-
coming a Christian ; but he had also numerous incon-
veniences to fear from such an apostasy : The im-
placable vengeance of those he deserted: That
sort of contempt which is hardest to bear, the con-
tempt of those whose good opinion he had most
eagerly sought ; and all those other complicated
evils which he describes in his second epistle to
the Corinthians ; evils, the least of which were
enough to have frightened any impostor, even from
ihe most hopeful and profitable cheat. But where
the advantage proposed bears no proportion to the
dangers incurred, or the mischiefs endured, he
must be absolutely out of his senses who will
either engage in an imposture, or, being engaged,
will persevere.

816 COKVBRT8 YROM INFIDBLItT.

' The obTiouB inference to be dimwn from tfai
pert of the argument is, that the desire of weald
of fiune, or of ]M>wer, could be no motiTe to mak
St Fteol a convert to Christ. But if these si^posi
tions will not account for the apostle's convenion
neither will that which now comes und^ iaquiry
viz, whether the gratification of any other pessioi
under the authority of that religion, or bythi
means it affords^) could be his induc^nent.

That there have been someimpostorsy who havt
pretended to revelations from Grod^ merel¥ U
give a loose to irregular pasnons, and set them-
selves fne from all restraints of government, law> oi
morality, both ancient and modem ^history shews
But the doctrine preached by the apostle w»
absolutely contrary to all such designs. His writ
ings breathe nodung but the strictest morality
obedience to magistrates, order, and government
with the utmost abhorrence of all licentiousness
idleness, or loose behaviour, under the cloak o
religion. We nowhere read in his works, that saint
were above moral ordinance ; that dominion oi
property, is founded in grace; that there is m
difference in moral actions ; that any impulses o
the mind are to direct us against the light of ow
reason and the laws of nature. Nor does an^
part of his life, either before or after his conver
sionto Christianity, bear any marks of a libertin<
disposition. As among the Jews, so among th(
Christians, his conversation and manners wen
blameless. It viras not then, the desire of gratify
ing any irregular passion, that could induce B
Paul to turn Christian.

Thei'e is another observation which may b<
stated, as an additional proof with regard to thu

LORD LYTTELTON. ?17

purity of the apostle s motives. That whereas
it may be objected to the other i^stles, by
those who are resolved not to credit their tes-
tuiiony; that having been deeply engaged with
Jesus during his life, they were obliged to con-
tinue the same professions after his death, for
the support of their own credit, and from having
gone too far to go back ; tiiis can by no means be
isaid of St Paul. On the contrary, whatever force
there may be in that way of reasoning, it all tends
to convince us, that St Paul must naturally have con-
tinued a Jew', and an enemy of Christ Jesus. If
they were engaged on one side, he was as strongly
engaged on the other. If shame withheld them from
changing sides, much more ought it to have stopt
him, who, being of a much higher education and
rank in lijfe than they, had more credit to lose, and
must be supposed to have been vastly more sen-
sible to that sort of shame. The only difference
was, that they, by quitting their Master after his
death, might have preserved themselves ; whereas
he, by quitting the Jews, and taking up the cross
of Christ, certainly brought on his own destruc-
tion.

As, therefore, no rational motive appears for
St Paul's embracing the faith of Christ, without
having busn really convinced of its truth ; but^
on the contrary, every thing concurred to deter
him from acting the part he did: It may be
proved, in the next place, that if he had been so
tmaccountably wild and absurd, as to undertake
ah imposture so unprofitable and dangerous, both
to himself and those he deceived by It, he could
not possibly have carried it on with any success,
by uie means he employed. For if the apostle's

VOL. i. T

^18 CONVERTS -VROM IKVIDBLITTi

convenioii, and the part thai he a<^ed in
qiience of it, was an imposturey it was mch an im*
posture as eo«dd not be carried <m by one man
alone. The foith he professed, and of wfaidi be
became an apostle, was not his inTentimi. He
was not die audior or beginner of it, jmd dieia-
fore it was not in his power to-draw the doctrmes
of it out of his own imagination ; with Jesnsy who
was the Author and Head of it, he had never had
any commmiication before his death, nor with hii
apostles after his death, exceptasiiueirperBeciitoc

As he took on himself the office and character
of an apostle, it was absolutely necessary for Inm
to hare a precise and perfect knowledge of all the
facts contained in the gospel, several of whidi had
only passed between Jesus himself and his twelve
apostles, and others more privately still, ao that
they could be known but to very few, being not
yet made public by any writings ; otherwise^ h%
would have exposed himself to ridicule among
those who preached that gospel with more know-
ledge than he ; and as the testimony they bore
would have been different in point of fact, and
many of their doctrines and interpretations of
Scripture repugnant to his, from thdr entire dis-
agreement with l^se Jewish opinions in which he
was bred up ; either they must have been forced to
Tuin his credit, or he would have rained theiis.
It was therefore impossible for him to act this part
but in confederacy, at least with the qMsUes.

But how could he gain diese men to become his
confederates ? How could he learn of them by
what secret arts they so imposed upon the senses
and understandings of men? Was it by furiously
penecuting them and their brathreD, as we find (hat

LOtti) LYTtELTONr Sl^*

bedidyto'theteiyiiioiileiilctf bisconvenidA? Wonld
they venture to trust then* eajntal enemy with all
the secrets of ibea inipoBtinre»-— with those npon*
which all their hopes and credit depended ? All-
Ads is stiU more impossible than that he should atr
ttmpt to engage in their fraud without their cxm^
east and assistance.-

Had the miracnloilis story ei his ecHHTersioa*
been an imp osture, there were d^culties at the
tery outset which could not be overcome. Ta
Hoeovnt for the wav he chose of declaring himself
B conv^t to Chnsty we must suppose, that all;
those who were with him when he pretended he
had his vision, were his accomplices ; otherwise
liie story he told conM have gained no belief
bc4iig c(mtradicted by them whose testimony war
necessary to vouch iett 1^ truth of it. And yet,
how can we suppose ^at all these men should
be willing to join in this imposture ? They were
probably ofiBcers of justice, or soFdiers, who had
been employed often before in executing the or*
de|B o( die high-priest and the rulers, against the
Christians*

What then should now mdnfoe ^em to betray
the business they were employed in ? Or does
it evoi appear ^at they had any connection widi
ibe man they so lied for,*— or had any reward
from lum fY»r it? But they must have been ac^
eomplices in carrying on this wicked fraud, and
^e whole matter must have been previously
agreed on between themy-'-a . supposition too im-
probabie to be admitted. Had the Jews, either
at Damascus or Jerusalem, who were concerned
in discovering the cheat, been able to con^nct him
of fraud in this affidr, the whole scheme must

I!

120 CONVBRTS FROM INFIDELITY.

have been nipt in the bud. But we find that
many yean afterwards, when they had. all the time
and means they coold desire^ to make the strictest
inquiry, he was bold enough to appeal to Agrippa,
in the presence of Festns, upon ms own knowledge
of the truth of his story,— « very remarkable proof,
both of the notoriety of the feet, and the integrity
of the man.

But further, let us obsenre in what manner tins
wondrous imposture was carried on by Paul hio^'
self. His first care ought to have been to get
himself owned and received as an apostle; till
this was done, the bottom he stood upon was very
narrow ; nor could he have any probable means
of supporting himself in any esteem or credit
among the disciples. Intruders run a double risk;
.they are in danger of being detected, not only
by those upon whom they attempi to practise th^
cheats, but also by those into whose society they
force themselves, who must always be jealous of
8Bch an mtn»k«, and much moi» ftom^ne wbo
had before been their declared enemy. To gain
the apostles, therefore, and bring them to admit
him into a participation of all their mysteries, all
their designs, and all their authority, wias abso-
lutely necessary ; but instead of attending to tfais^
he went into Arabia, returned to Damascus, and
did not repair to Jerusalem till three years had
elapsed. Among the apostles themselves he used
no arts to conciliate favour, and betrayed no fean
as to the grounds of his i^>ostle8hip. '< He even
withstood Peter to the fece, and reproved hira
before all the disciples, because he was to be
.blamed." If he was an impostor, how could he
.venture to ^offend one whom it so highly coik-

I^ORD LYTTELTON. Hi

c«niedlii]iiioagt«ewith»--^«id to please. Accom-
plices in frandy are obliged to shew greater regard
to . each others— -ancb freed<»ii. belongs to tratfa
alone*

There is another part of his apostolical fhnctionB
eonneetedr with this stage of ther argument, de-
aerring of particular notice-; and that is,, t^ diffi-
cnkiea St Panl had to encoimter among the Gen-
tiles, m the eitferprise he midertook of gmng to
ikenh making himself Metf cpaai^, and converting
ihem to the religion of Christ. In this enter-
prise he had to contend, ^r«^ with ihe poUcy and
power of the magistrate^ which was every where
armed with all its terrors against CbriMianity.
'When, therefiNre^ St P^id imdertook the GOnya>'!
aion of the Grentiles, he Imew very weH- that the
most severe persecutions must be the consequence \
af any success in his design. J

In the second p£eu;e, her had to* contend with
ihe interest, credit, and craft of the priestSr How
gainful a trade they, witli all their inferior depen-
dants, made' of those si^erstidons winch he pro^
posed to destroy ; how mudr credit they had with
Ihe pe<^l^ as weU as the state, by means of them^
and how much craft they employed in carrying (^
^eir imposture, all history shews. St Paul could
not doubt limt aU these men would exert their ut-
most abilities to stop the sheading of the doctrinei
he preached,— ^doctrines which struck at llie root
of their power and gam. Whatever, ^erefore^
^bm cunning coidd do to support ^ir own wor-
ship, wiuitever axA they could draw from llie m»-
gistrate^ whatever seal they could raise in the
people^ 8t Paul had to contend with, unsupported
by any human asnstance.

1*51

122 CONVERTS FROM IKFIDELITY.

The apostle had, m llie Mrd place, to enooiHiter
a]\ the prfjndices and passioiiB of the people. I^
he confined his preaching to Jadea alone, this dif-
ficvdty would not have been so great. The peqple
there had began to be somewhat faToorably dis-
posed towards the miracles and teaching of the
apostles ; bnt among the Gentiles, no snch diqiosi-
tions could be expected. Their prejudices were
•yiolent, not only in favour of their own supe rs ti "
tions, but in a particular manner against any doc-
trines taught by a Jew ; whom all other nations
hated and despised. What authority then could
St Paul flatter himself that his preaching would
.carry along with it, among people to whom he was
<at once both the object of national hatred^ and na-
lional scorn ?

But besides the popular prejudices against Ids
nation, the doctrines he taught were such asshocked
all their most ingrafted religious opinions. They
agreed to no principles of which he could avail
himself to procure their assent to the other parts
of the gospel he preached. They expected no
Christ, like the Jews. They allowed no sudi
Scriptures as the Old Testament, which contained
predictions and proofs of the Messiah, to which he
could refer.

Besides, they were strongly attached to idolatry,
not by their prejudices alone, but by their passions,
whicn were flattered and gratified by it. Its rites
dazzled their senses by magnificent shews, and al-
lured them by pleasures of);en of a very impure
and immoral nature. Instead of all this, the gos-
pel proposed to them no other torms of acceptance
with God, but a worshipping him in spirit and truth,
sincere repautanea, and perfect submission to the

LORD LYTTELTOK. 223

Divine law ; the stricteet purity of life and man-
ners, and renouncing of all moee lusts in which they
had fonnerly walked. How unpalatable a doc-
trine was this,. to men so given np to the power of
their lusts, as the whole heathen world was at
that time I

But the wisdom and pride of the philosophers,
• was a -source of opposition no less strong than the
.prejudices of the vulgar : for whatever refinement
•they pretended to, their systems were all equally
irreconcilable with the doctrines of Christ. The
.wisdom upon which they valued themselves, chiefly
•consisted in vain, metaphysical speculations, in
logical subtleties, in endless disputes, in high-flown
conceits of the perfection and selfnsufficiency of
human wisdom, in dogmatical positiveness about
doubtful opinions, or sceptical cavils about the
most dear and certain truths. It must appear at
first sight, that nothing could be more contradic-
tory to the first principles of the Christian religion,
than those of the atheistical or sceptical sects, which
at that time prevailed very much, both among the
Greeks and the Romans. Besides the contra-
riety of their tenets to those of the gospel, the
pride that was common to all the philosophers, was
of itself an almost invincible obstacle against the
admission of the evangelical doctrines, calculated
to humble that pride, and teach them that profess-
ing themselves to be wise, they became fools.

The Christian religion at once overturned their
several systems, taught a morality mcnre perfect than
theirs, mortified their pride, confounded their learn-
ing, discovered their ignorance, and ruined their
credit. Against such an enemy, what would they
not do ? Would they not exert the whole power of

^*

SS4 COXVBRTS FRO&r IKTTDELITt^

thurilietoricy the whole art of thisir logic» liieir io^
fluenceoTerthe people, their interest w&llie greely
to discredit a novelty so alanning to them. St
Ftol had therefore to contend, in his «it eiyr ia o of
conyerting the Gentiles, with- aH the eppoaiftMB
that could he made by aU die different sects of
philosophers ; with a pride no less intractahhi, no-
less Kvene to the instructions of Christ and his'
apostles, than that of the Scribes and IHiarisees.'
If he had had nothing to trust to but lak own nfr*
tural faculties, his own understandii^, knowledge^
and eloquence; could he hare hoped to he singlya
match against such formidable <qipo8Etien? He
might as wellhave attempted, alone, to haye eseded'
a monarchy uponr the rums of aU the several states
then in the woild, as- to hayb erected CkristiaDity
upon the destruction of all the several sects of
philosophy among the Gentiles, particnkily thr
Crreeks and the Romans.

Having thus satisfactorily^ shewn, that- in eon*'
voting the Gentiles, St Paul could hav^e no aows '
tance, but was sure on the contrary of the utmosl^
opposition from the magistrates, the priests, the
pec^le, and the philo80|d^rs ; it necessarily follow^
that to succeed in that work, hermust have called
m some extraordkiary aid, some stronger power,^
than that of reason and argumentation. Aeeor*
dingly, he tells us, that it was ki dinnonstniMm of
die Spirit and of power that he preached. It was-
to the supernatural efficacy of this Divine power,
that he ascribed all his success wherever he planted
the gospel. If that power really went widi him,
it would amble him to overcome att those difficoi-
ties that obstructed his enterorise. But this oon»
cesaioniainGonnfiteflDil^wV^Uttm^lMdtioa^ hb
being an impoBtor.

IX>SO LTTTELTOK. fffft

' It inay be diewn &rtiier, ihei> sUlepu^ him W
have beoi an impostor, lie eoidd Wft liy/»rfieiM^^
to mnades, have O fwr co me all ihmt diJHfiiltimx
and canied on Idb woik wi& mrwi IW 4if>
cmmtanoes are principally noPOWBry to ||;h^ Mi^
lades fidMy preteBded to, any wytajitnij ni»
apt ^position in thaae whom tliey an$ 4iwi n aa ^
tor in^Kne vpasi, andapairecfal caa f a d w miy to
carry on and abet the ch ea tj ww »rt>t^#f < iii(ai '
"^baa aiwayi aceonpanied all iitte kk» aaimdii* mt-

and ike iaipoitBies of hmmmmid I^XmI^ aaiMte
Keiiiier of ifaew aniitod ^Iftie afMrtfCfe- Mad i^-
lemained in indea, liie aifpnil mituf\m M ^yitf^
iiag;fat be aaidtobaaie pffu iiii|<a>K <i 1^ JliiiHr #f
that rwidalai PBipfej <iid fiPUf<»ad ikmm U0 iU
mSbKnmkmcimitm^mtffmrifd to Up w%\mjA^ ^f

apoade iMid na aiiA > if « ^ w . ^k^-m^

m^ kmmr
boik?

■^*^'~-'"*tSLrt:ar

liie-GcBBia» and ^^ ^i^^iil^ .^^^ ^^Mj^g jc x^jl
MtoAaatt bii ^ ia |in iiii ] m^ mfitf Hft(kf ^

226 coNvmTs moM nfFTdSLmr.

practised^ were not a grosB or ignorant people, apt'
to mistake any nncommon operation oi natare, or
joggling tricks, for miracolons acts. Tlie churdiet
planted hj St Paid were in the most toli§^itaied
parts of the world ; in the midst of scienee^ pfailo*
sophy, freedom of thought; and in an i^ morr
inquisitively curious into the powers of nature^
and less inclined to credit religious frauds^ than any
befmre it.

None of these adrantages attended die aposdd
which concurred to fieiTourl^ miracles ef the Ahb6
Ftois, or the femous impostor Alexander of Ponr
tus, mentioned by Lucian. The meihods hr
which those remarkable frauds were oondnoteit
were directly opposite to those used by St Paul, vr^
never had recourse to ambiguous answers, cunning
evasions, and juggling artifices to support his pre<^^,
tensions. He coidd receive no assistance finom the
dispositions of those whom he tried to oonvert».
and had no powerful confederacy to cany on or
abet the cheat. On the ccmtrary, he had to con-
tend alone, or at most with two or three com-
panions, against the opposition of magistrates^
priests, philosophers, and people, all combined to
detect and expose the imposture. From all this,
it may be reasonably concluded, that no hnmart-
means were adequate to the effect.

Though the argument drawn from liiese eon*
siderstions alone, might hb sufficient to prorr
Christianity to be a divine revelation ; yet there ir
another branch of the inquiry which may be regaided
as additional evidence, viz. whether the apoede was
not an enthusiast, who by the force of an over*
heated imagination, imposed upon himself? The
fngivdieiita of wVack cflathwnaam are ^^

LbRD LYTTELTOir. 227

{Nmed, are these : — great heat of temper, melan-
choly, ignorance, credulity, and canity, or self-con-
t^it. The first of these the apostle possessed ;
bat this quality alone will not be sufficient to prove
him to have heea an enthusiast, in the opinion of
«ny reasonable man. The same quality has been
<iommon to others, who were not enthusiasts ; as
the Gracchi, Cato, Brutus, and many more among
the best and wisest of men. Nor does it appear,
that this disposition had such a mastery over the
naind of St Paul, that he was not able at all times
to mle and control it by the dictates of reason.
His zeal was eager and warm, but tempered with
prudence, and even with the civilities of life, as
appears by his behayiour to Agrippa, Festua, and
Felix.

As to melancholy, it neither appears by his
wntings, nor by any thing told of him in the Acts
of the Apostles, nor by any other evidence, that St
Paul was inclined to it, more than any other man.
Though he was full of remorse for his former ig-
norant persecution of the Church of Christ, we '
read of no gloomy penances, no extravagant m<»r-
tifications, such as tne Brahmins, the Taugues, the
Monks of La Trappe, and other melancholy en-
thusiasts inflict on themselves. And as to igru)^
ranee, St Paul was so far from it, that he appears
to have been master, not of the Jewish learning
alone, but of the Greek, — and on this account he
may be regarded as less liable to the imputation
«f enthusiasm than the other apostles.

Hiat qredulity formed no part of his character,
the history of his life undeniably shews. He seems
indeed to have been «low and hard of belief in an
extreme degree ; having paid no regard to all tha

2SSd CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY.

miracles done by our Sayiour, the fame of wlddi
he could not be a stranger to ; nor to those poiw
formed after his resurrection, and in his name^ by
Peter and John, and the other apostles. All these
he resisted ; so that his mind, far fix>m being dis-
posed to a credulous faith, or a too easy recep-
tion of any miracles wrought in proof of the Chiu-
tian religion, appears to have been barred against
it by the most obstinate prejudices, as much as any
man's could possibly be. That llie. f^KMrtle was
equally void of vanity or self-concdt, must i^^iear
from uie slightest examination both of his. motives
and his actions ; and that he was as free frvnn these
infirmities as any man, may be gathered frmn all
that we see in his writings, or know of his life.
Throughout his Epistles, there is not one wocd
that savours of vanity, nor is any actum recorded
of him, in which the least mark of it appean.
How contrary is his modesty, and self-abasement
to the spirit of vanity ! How different from the
practice of enthusiastical pretenders to raptures and
visions ! Nothing can be more evident than that
in St Paul's character and disposition, those qua-
lities do not o6cur that seem to be necessary to.
form an enthusiast, and therefore it is reastmable
to conclude he 'was none.

It may be shewn, moreover, that he could not
have imposed on himself, even though he had pos-
sessed such qualities, either in regard to the mi-
racle that caused his conversion, or to the conse-
quential effects of it. The power of imaginafion
in enthusiastical minds is, no doubt, very strong;
but it always acts in conformity to the opinioirii
imprinted upon it at the time of its working; and
can no more act against .them» than a rapid river

LORD LYTTELTOIC. 229

can cany a boat against the current of its own
stream. But how do^ the fact stand with the
apostle. When he set out to Damascus, his mind
was strongly possessed with opinions against Christ
and hiis followers. To give these opinions a more
actiye force, his passions at that time concurred
Ld such a state and temper of mind, if an enthu-
fiiastical man had imagined he saw a vision from
heaven, denouncing the anger of God against the
Christians, and commanding him to persecute them
without any mercy, it might be accounted for by
the natural power of enthusiasm. But that in the
very mstant of his being engaged in the fiercest
acnd hottest persecutipn against the Christians, no
circumstances having happened to change his opi-
nions, or alter the bent of his disposition, he should
at once imagine himself called by a heavenly vi-
sion to be the apostle of Christ, whom but a mo-
ment before he deemed an impostor and a blas-
phemer, is in itself wholly incredible ; and so far
from being a probable consequence of enthusiasm,
that just a cOntnuy effect must have been naturally
produced by that cause. The warmth of his tem-
per carried him violently anotherway ; and what-.
ever delusions his ima^nation could raise to im'^
pose on his reason, must have been raised at that
time, agreeably to the notions imprinted upon it.

If it be supposed, in order to try to account for
his conversion without a miracle ; that the vision
he and his company saw on their journey, was the
effect of a meteor which did redly happen, this
would not resolve the difficulty. This natursd'
phenomenon may account for the apostle's blind-
ness, f(H* the light they all saw, the terrpr they
were in, and the noise they heard ; but how will

IT

€90 CONVBKTS VROM UimOKLITT.

it account for the dktmct wordi tliej liev^ «r1
Mgns and woodera tint foUowvd. ItisaimcfalMyK
twk for unbolieyen to account fiw the aiiooaw
St Fiinl» in preaching the goapd, upon the aa
portion of his having been an eothnnaat^ than
Ida having been an impoator. Neither of the
anppontiona can ever acconnt for it; bat ihm ii
poaaibility is more glaringly atrong in thia a
than the other.

But in addition to theie atteatationay let it
ranembered, that the apoetle w rro u g fat aigna ai
wonders which it waa impoaaible for endnunam
imagine, or impoatore to connterfeit, or any pow
of nature to perform. These aiqiematiiral fpn
were also communicated to the varioua choicii
which he planted in different parts of the wori
Are we to conclude that all theae miraclea we
pretended; or are they to be ascribed to the affe
of imagination or imposture, dther in himself
the persons on whom he operated. How waa
possible that he and they could be so dieati
by that enthusiasm, as to imagine they had sui
powers wh^i they had not. Suppose that entb
aiasm could make a man believe he waa ah]
by a word or a touch, to give sight to the bHn
motion to the lame, or life to the dead ; wou
that conceit of his make the blind aee, the laa
walk, or the dead revive ? And if it did not, ho
could he persist in such an opinion, or upon I
persisting, escape being shut up for a mailman

But such a madness could not infect so aaany i
once, as St Paul supposes at Corinth to have bei
endowed with the gift of healing, w any other m
racnlous power*— One of the miraclea which the
pretended to, waa the speaking of laognagea ths

LOBD LYTTELTOM. 1^1

lurterlmA letcoed. And St Fianl sayt, he pos-
sessed linsgifib more^an ikem alL If this had
been t delnsum of fancy, if they had spoken only
gibberish or unmeaning sounds ; it would soon have
appeared when they came to make use of it where
it was neeessary, viz, in converting of those wh«
vndentood not any langnage they naturally spoke.
St Ftail parttcnhurly, who travelled so far upon
^t design, and had such occasion to ^use it, must
soon have discovered that this imaginary gift of the
Spirk was no gift at all, but a ridiculous instance
of fimzy^ which had possessed both him and

But if those he i^ke to in divers tongues, un- '^
derstood what be said, and were converted te (
Christ by that means, how could it be a delusion ?^^
Of all ^ miracles recorded in Scripture, none are
more clear from any possible imputation of being
the efiect of an oithusiastic imagination than this*
For how could any man think that he had it, who
liad it not; or if he did so^ not be undeceived^
when he came to put his gift to the proof? Ao^
•ovdmgly, we do not find such a power to have
been evor pretended to by any enthusiaBt, ancient
€r modem*

It must thus appear manifest, that St Paul could
aot have knposed on himself by any power of en-
thasiasm, either with regard to the miracle that
caused his conversioa, or to the consequential ef-
focta of it; especially the miracles wrought by him,
and liie extraordinary gifts conferred upon him,
and upon liie Chriirtian converts to whom he
wrote. To suppose all this to have been only ow-
ing to the strength of his own imagination, when
there was in redity no such thing at all, is to sup-

!S32 COMVBkTS FROM IKFIDBLLTY.

pcNie him to have been all this time quite otA oi fait
senses ; and then it is ahsblntely impossible 'to ao-
connt how such a distempered enthnsiaBt and madf
tnan, conld make such p ro gress, as we know ka
did, in converting the Gentile wmid. The infis-
rence firomthe whole sorgament is obiioiis and u-
answerable, viz. That St Panl was not deceived by
the frand of others, and that whi^ he said of laah
self cannot be impnted to the power of that deceit
any more than to wilfol imposture or to enthi^
siasm ; and then it follows, toat what he rdsted to
have been the cause of his convernon, and to have
happened in consequence of it, did all reaUy hip-
pen; and therefore the Christian religi<m is a En-
vine revelation.

The Treatise concludes with some exedlent ob-
servations, to shew that the mysteriea of tkei
Chnstian religion do not formsh any just reason for
rejecting the stroi^ and convincing evidoice with
which it is supported, since the same objections
which are urged against revelation; will go against
otiier systCTAs both of religion and philosophy,
which sceptics tiiemselves profess to admit. Even
in Deism itself, there are several difficulties which
human reason can but ill account for ; such as tiie
origin of evil, reconciling tiie prescience of Grod with
tlie free-virill of man, &c which have baffled the
wisdom of the greatest philosophers to comprehend,
and which the metaphysical Lock^ after all Ins
speculations, acknowledged he could not do, al-
though he admitted botii as articles of his creed.
The creation of the world, the prodncti<m of nOBC^
ter, the agency of tiie Deity m that beneficent
work, were mysteries common to every system of
Deism; yet no wise man will trgm these deny the

LORD LTTTStTOK. 2S8

being of God, or his infinite wisdom^ goodnessy
and power, whieh are proved by sndb evidence as
awries the deenaet and strongest conviction, and
eannot h^ refiised without involving the mind in
fin* greater difficulties, even in downright absurdities
«mI impossHnlities.

The only part, therefore, that can be taken k,
to account, in the best manner that our weak rea^
SOB is able to do, for such seeming objections ; and
"Wfbea/L tkat fiuls, to acknowledge its weakness, and
acqmesee under the certainty that our very im-
perfect knowledge, or judgment, eannot be the
neasnre of iJie Divine wisdom, or the universal
atandard of truth. So likewise it is with respect
to the Christian religion. Some difficulties occur
in thai revelation, which human reason can hardly
clear ; but as the taiith o^it stands upon evidence
so strong and conmcing, that it cannot be denie4
without much greater diffiadHes than those that
attend the beUef of it, we oi^t not to reject it up-^
on soch etjeetions, however mortifying they may ^
be to our pride j[^iat indeed would have att
Aings made plain to us ; but God has thought
proper to proportion ow knowledge to ovrwanih
not our pfHde* All that concerns our duip m
clear ; and a$ to other points, either of natural or
revealed re^gjon, if he has left some obscurities in
them, that can be no reasonable cause of comH-
plaint.

The proper use of our intellectual faculties^ is
to distingmsh the genuine doctrines of religion
from others erroneously or corruptly ascr3>ed to
it; to consider the importance and purport of
them, with the connection they bear to one an-
other ; but especially to examine with tiie strictest

u2

284 CONVERTS FROM IKFIDBLITY.

attention, the evidences by which religion isproYed,
internal as well as ext^naL If the external evidence
be convindngly strong, and ^ere be no internal pnxtf
of its falsehood, but mnch to support and confirm
its truth ; then, surely no difficulties ought to pne-
vent our giving a full assent and belief to it. It is
our duty inde^, to endeavour to find the best so-
lutions we can to them; but where no satisfactory
ones are to be found, it is no less our duty to ac-
quiesce with humility, and believe that to be right
which we know is above us, and belonging to a
wisdom superior to ours. If the glorious light of
the gospel be sometimes overcast with cloudi
of doubt, so is the light of our reason too. But
shall we deprive ourselves of the advantage of either,
because these clouds cannot perhaps be entirdy
removed while we remain in this -mmrtal life?
Shall we obstinately shut our eyes against the day-
spring from on high that has visited us, because
we are not able as yet to bear the full blaze of Ins
beams ? Here philosophy, as well as true Chris-
tianity, would teach us a wiser and modester part.
It would teach us to be content within those bounds
which God has assigned us, '^ casting down ima- ^
ginations, and every high thing that exalteth itself <
against the knowledge of God, and bringing into
captivity every thought to the. obed^ce • of
Christ." J

SIR. JOHN PRINGLE. 235

SIR JOHN PRINGLE, Bart.

Sir John Pringle, Bart., was bom at Stitchel-
House^ in the county of Roxburgh, April 10, 1707*
His father was Sir John Pringle of Stitchel, Bart,
and his mother was sister to Sir Gilbert Elliot
of Stobs. Both the fiEunilies from which he de-
scended were ancient and honourable ; and were
gready esteemed for their attachment to the religion
9nd liberties of their coimtry, as well as for their piety
and yirtue in private life. John was the youngest of
several sons, only three of whom, besides hunself,
arrived to years of maturity. His grammatical
education he received at home under a private tu-
tor ; and when sufficiently qnalified to commence
his academical studies, he was removed to the
University of St Andrews, where he was put un-
der the immediate care of Mr Francis Pringle,
professor of Greek, and nearly related to his fo-
ther. After continuing there some years, he went
to Edinburgh, in October 1727, where, however,
he remained only one year.
:> Being dengned, it appears, for the mercantile
line, he went over to Holland with the view of
settling at Amsterdam ; but when at Leyden, ac-
cidentally hearing Boerhaave lecture, he was so
remarkably struck both with the matter and the
man; that his attention was henceforth turned to
the profession of physic.

1136 CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY.

This fayourite science he was anxious to study
at Leyden, at that time the most celebrated sdiooi-
of medicine in Europe ; and as Boerhaave, the disK
tingaii^ed professor in that University, was consi^
erably advanced in years, Mr Pringle was unwilling
to lose the opportunity of benefiting by that gnat
man's lectures. For Boerhaave he entertained ft
high and just respect ; but it was not his dispositioii
0r character, to bec<Hne the implicit and s3rBtema'
^follower of any man. WhileatLeyden,hfrO0ii^
tracted an intimate friendship with Van Swietea^
then a fellow student in the same science, and wlift
afterwards became so famous at Vieima, holSk hf
his practice and his writings* Whoi A& Prin^
had gone through his proper eourse oi stadias, te
was admitted to the degm oi Doctor of Fkpie,
July 20, 1730.

His inaugural Dissertation was ^ De Mareani
Senili ;" and his Diploma was signed, besides tha
other profsssors of the University, by Boerittave^
Albinus, and Gravesande ; names c^ great eele-
l«ity, not only in medicine, bi^ in general banuns;

Upon qmtting Levden, he settied as a Phjsi-
dan at Edmbur^ where, by his abilities and good
conduct, he gamed the esteem both of the magis-
trates of the city and the professors of the College;
and such was his known acquaintance with etlucal
subjects, that he was appointed in 1734^ to be joiol.
professor of Moral Philosoi^y with Mr Scott»
during that gentieman's life, and sde professor
after his decease. In discharging the dutieB of
this new en^loyment, his text-book was JPtg^n-
dorffde Officio Hominis et Civif ; and agreeably
to the method he pursued through life, of w»ftVif> g
fact and expenmeiit tb& bans of sciuioa^ lie ra-

SIR JOHN PRINGLB. S87

commended to his pnpils, Lord Bacon's works,
and paiticHlarly ^e ** NoTum Organum** of thai
Father of true philosophy.

He continued for several years in the practice
of j^ysic at Edinburgh, and in performing the
functions of his professorship, till 1742, when he
was appointed physidan to die Earl of Stair, who
then commanded the British army in the Nether-
lands, employed there in defending the interests of
the young Queen of Hungary, against the ambi-
tious daums of France. Through the interest of
this nobleman, Dr Pringle was constituted physi-
cian to the military hospital in Flanders, witn a
mdary of twenty shillings a-day, and half-pay for
life. He did not on this occasion resign his pro-
fessarship of Moral Philosophy ; the University
permitted him to retain it^ and Messrs Muirhead
and Cleghom were appointed to teach so long as
he might find it necessary to be absent.
■ The exemplary attention which Dr Pringle paid
to his duty, as an anny physician, is apparent from
the very excellent work he wrote upon the sub-
ject. One fact is particularly mentioned, highly
creditable to his hmnanity. It had been ibe cus-
tom when the enemy was near, for the security of
the side, to remove them a great way from the
oamp ; the consequence of mich was, that many
perioied before they came under the care of the
physician. The Earl of Stair^ being sensible of
this evil, at the suggestion of Dr Prii^le, proposed
to the French Commander, the Duke de Noailles,
that the hospitals on both sides should be con-
sidered as sanctuaries for the sick, and mutually
protected ; to wMdi the French General readily,
agreedr and took the first opportunity of shewing
hu regard for the humane propooal.

2S8 CONVERTS FROM INFIDXLITT.

At the battia of Dettii^;eii» Dr Bringle was ia
tbe coach with Lord Carteret^ dmiiig the whok
time of the engBgement, and from then* ntaatioii
they were exposed to imminent danger. Th&f had
heen taken unawares, and were kept betwixt the
fire of the lines in front ; a French battery being
on the left, and a wood frdl of faossarB on^lhe
right. They had occasion frequently io ahift tiw
coach to avoid being in the eyeai ib» battery.
Soon after this, the Earl of Stair retked from dM
army, which was no small affliction to Dr Pringle*
He offered to resign with his noble patron, bsl
was not permitted ; he therefore contented Iobh
self with testifying his respect and giatitade to lui
Lmrddbip, by accompanying him forty miles on Jiia
return to England ; after which he took leave ef
him with the utmost regrets

But though Dr Pringle was thus deprired of the
immediate protection of a noblCToom, who knew
and appredated his worth, has conduct in tha duties
oi his station procured him effectual support. I^
attended the army through the campaign ۤ 1744^
and so powerfully did he recommend himself t»
the Duke of Cumberland, that, in the spring fellow*
ing, he had a commission from his Royal Higfaness,^
appointing him Physician Greneral to his Mijeaty^a
forces in the Low Countries and parts beyond ua
seas ; besides asecondconomission, by which ha was
constituted Physician to the Royal Hospitals in die
same countries. In consequence of these pionMi-
tions, he now resigned his professorship; and
shortly after he was recalled frmn the army ia
Phmders, to attend the forces which were to be
aent against the rebels in Scotland, in 174&. In
tbia -official capadty ho accompanied the Dnke q£

SIR JOHN PRINOLX. 999

CnmberlaDd in Us expedition to the North ; and
•«fter the battle of CnUod^n, he remained with llie
f^MToes till their return to England in the middle
«f AnguBt.

la 1747, he again attended the army abroad,
«ad next year upon the conehunon of the treaty of
-Atx4a-ChBpeUe, he embaiked with the forces for
£iM;laBd. From that time he principally resided
in London, where, firom his known skill and ex*
perience, and the lepntation he had acqoired, he
liad every reason to expect he might succeed as a
^ysician. DnringhiB residenoe in the metropolin^
whidi comprdiended nearly thirty years of his
life, he enriched tiie science and literature of his
country, by many learned and valuable communica-
lions ; and had various marks of literary distinction
conferred upon him, both at home and alM'oad. In
1750, he publidied in a letter to Dr Mead, << Ob-
•ervations on the Jail or Hospited Fever." — ^A
work whidi was occasioned by tiie jail distemper
that broke out at that time in the city of Lomkm.
It was well received by the medical world ; and
was afterwards embodied in his grand work on the
^ Diseases of the Army."

It was in tiie same year that Dr Pringle began
So communicate to tiie Royal Sodety, of wmch
he had been chosoi a member five years before,
hb fiunous ^ Expwiments upon Septic and Antir
e^tie Substances, with remarks relating to their
use HI tiie theory of Medidne." These experiments,
iduch comprmnded several papers, seven in num-
ber, were read at different meetings of tiie So-
G^sty. They gsoned him a high and just reputa-
timi as an experimental philosopher, and procured
for him tiM honour of 1^ Go^nay Copley^s gold

ft¥> CONVERTS FROM INFIDBLITT.

medaL The whole of these were afterwanis sob-
j<Hiied, by way of Appendix, to the oelefanted Trea-
tise above mentioned.

It would be tedious, and here mmeoessary, to
enamerate the yarions Essa]^ which were trans-
mitted through his hands to the periodical woibs
of the day. Besides his own particular dqwrt-
ment,he discovered an extensive acquaintance with
the phenomena of the natural wxnid, and other
subjects quite unconnected wi^ his pntfessioaal
studies. In the 49th and two subsequent vcdnmes
of the Philosophical Transacti^ms, several coinma-
mcations from him are to be met with. The ac-
count of an earthquake felt at Brussels, of another
at Glasgow and Dumbarton, and of the asitation
of the waters in Scotland, and at Hamburgh, Nov.
1756, were given by him. Two oth^ articles of
his may be mentioned, of considerable lengdi, as
well as value, viz, a relation of the diffi^rent ac-
counts that had been given of a very extraor-
dinary fiery-meteor, which appeared on Sunday
the 26th of November 1758, between eight and
nine at night ; with a variety of remarks which
he made upon the whole, in which no small de-
g^ of philosophical sagacity was displayed. Be-
sides his papers in the Philosophical Transaction!^
he wrote in the '* Edinburgh Medical Essays, voL v.
an accoimt of the success of the VUrwn Ceratum
Antimoniir

But the most valuable and the most celebrated
of his works, was his << Observations on the Dis-'
eases of the Army," which he gave to the public in
1752. It is divided into three parts ; the first of
which, being chiefly historical, may be perused
with pleasure by every reader. The latt^ parts

I

SIR JOHN PRINGLE. 241

lie more within the proyince of physicians^ who are
the hest judges of tiie merits of ue^rformance ;
and to its merits the most decisive and ample tes-
timonies have heen given. It received great im-
provements from the author in course of the many
editions through which it has passed ; and on the
continent it has heen translated into the French,
German, and Italian languages. Scarcely any me^
dical writer has mentioned it without some tribute
of applause. The most illustrious foreigners have
passed their encomiums on the writer, and
ranked his Treatise, as a classical and standard
book in the sdience ; among these may he noticed,
the celebrated Baron Van Haller, who refers par-'
licularly to him in his Bibliotheca Anatomica. .

The reputation that Dr Pringle thus gained,*
was not of a kind which is ever likely to dimi-
nish. From the time he was appointed a phy-
sician to the army, it seems to have been his
grand object to lessen, as far as lay in his power,
3ie miseries and calamities of war ; nor was he
without considerable success in this noble and
benevolent study. The utility of this Treatise
has been admitted experimentally by the most
eminent military characters, who have acknow-
ledged their obligations to the instructions con-
tuned in it ; and it has proved the happy instru-
ment of saving the lives of many hun<hreds of solr
diers. Its peculiar merits consist in the proofs adr
duced; of the effects of air and situation upon the
health of soldiers in garrisons and encampments ;
and the means proposed for obviating the vansl
^^auses of disease in military life ; the identification
of the fetal fevers in camps, hospitals, jails, and
Other places contaminated by human effluvia ; and

S4S COKVSRTS FROM IimDBLITT.

ibe Teoommendatioii of modes of trmtiatntf ampler
effectire and snited to the natwe of ihe noiilii
cause.

Though DrPringlehad not ftxr some y^evs beea
called abroad, he still retained his place of j^hyncini
to the army ; but in 1758^ he entbely quitted ike
•ervice, and, as his residence was now fixed wb e By
in London, he was imme&tely admitted a liesB-
tiate of the College of Physicians^ — a privilege
which he might have obtained mvdi eariier, had
he beeia finally determined as to his seltlemeat is
the metropolis. After the accession of George IIL
to the throne, Dr Pring^e was appointed physknoi
to the Qaeen*s household; and this honour was s«e-
ceeded by his bdng conslatuted, in 1763, pbyakaM
extraordinary to her Majesty. In 1766, hu Ma-
jesty was graciously pleased to testify his senseof
Dr Pringle's alulities and merit, by raising him to
the dignity of a Baronet of Grreat Britain ; and ten
years aft^, her Royal Highness the IVincess
Dowager of Wales appmnted him herphyrician in
ordinary, an office to which a salary of £100^ a-
year was annexed. In 1774, he was made physi-
cian extraordinary to his Majesty, being m& last
medical promoticm whidi he had t^ hoiBM>ur to re-
ceive.

In course of this distinguished p rofos s io aal
career. Sir John Pringle was admitted a member
of most of the scientific and learned bodies^ both at
tiome and in various parts of Europe. He was
four times chosen one of llie Council oi the Royal
Society. In 1763, he was elected a meBsber of
ihe Academy of Sciences at Haaiiem, and the
same year made a Fellow of the Royal College of
JRbysicianS) London. In 1766> he was stored a

SIR JOHN PBINGUB. S4S

memWy in the physical line, of the Royal
Society of Sciences at Gottingen, and in 1776, he
was enrolled in the list of the membep of no less
tiiaii low learned bodies abroad, viz. the Royal
Academy of Sci«iceB at Madrid ; the Agricultiusl
fiodety of Amsterdam ; the Royal Academy of
Medical Corretpondence at Psris ; and the Impe-
ffial Academy of Sci«»ces at St PeterBbnr^
vMext year he was nominated by his Serene Hi^-
JMBBS, the LandgESTe of Hesse, an honorary mem-
ber of the Society of Antiquaries at Cassel ; and
im 1778, he soceeeded the celebmted TJ^mmnf, as
ooe of the foreign members, of the Royal Academy
of Sciences at Paris. This honour was then extended
mdj to eig^t p^Bons, on which account it was
JDstly esteemed a most eminent mark of distinc-
ition ; and we believe there haye been few or no in-
stances, in which it has been conferred on any
other than men of great reputation and acknow*
lodged abilities.

hk October the same year, Sir Jotm was diosen
a member of the Medical Society at Hanau ; and
in Mafch fc^wing, he was elected a foreign
member of the Royal Academy of Sciences and
B^Ues Lettres at Naples. He was besides ad-
mitted into the fellowship of the Society of Anti-
qnaries, both of London and Edinburgh ; but the
hig^best litemry bonoor to which he azmed, was
his being chosen President of the Royal Society^
Londmi. This was in Norember 1770, in conse-
quence of the death of James West^ Esq, His
election to this high station, though he had a
powedul exponent in Sir James Porter, was car-
ried by a very considerable minority. At the
time Siv John Priagle was caUed to preside ovev

2M COMVSRT8 FROM INFIDELITY.

thit illoBtruHis body, a wonderfol ardomr iior phn
lotophical science, and for the advancement oi na-
tual knowledge, had begun to di^lay itedf
throughout Europe ; and no where appieared with
greater advantage and enthoeiasm thvi in oar own
country. This spirit he endeayoured to cherish by
all ib» methods that were in his power ; and he
ha|mily struck upon a new way to distinction imd
usenilness, by the discourses he deliroed <m the
annual assignment of Sir Grodfiney Copley's medsL

This gentleman had originally bequeathed five
guneas to be given at each anniversary meetiiig
of the Royal Society, by the determination of the
Fkeaident and Council, to the person wiio had been
the author of ^e best paper of experimental ob-
servations for the year past.- In process of. time,
this small pecuniary reward was dianged into the
more liberal form of a gold medal ; when it be-
came a truly honourable mark of distinction, and
a just and laudable object of ambition. It had been
alwa3rs usual with the president, on delivering the
medal, to pay some compliment to the gentleman
on whom it was bestowed. Set speeches, adapted
to the occasion, were next introduced, giving a
sketch of the history of that part of philosophy to
which the experiment related. These discourses,
however, were but short, and obtained no publicity,
as they were merely inserted in the minute-books
of the Society. None of them had ever been
printed before Sir John Pringle was raised to the
chair. His first discourse was well received, and
was very happy in its subject.

The medal on this occasion was awarded to Dr
Priestl)r, who had greatly distinguished himself by his
magnetic and electrical experimenti^ as well as his

RR JOHK fringle; 915

poimiteijiotfaerbraiieliesof nailiiralplu^ TIm

fMkper read in this meetiiig was his '' Obeerrations
«ii the dtfbrfflit kiodg of Air ;" and the learned pre-
eidmit mnbraced wl^ pleaawie the opportunity of
edebvating the important conunnnications of hie^
friend, and of relatmg ii4th accuracy and minute*
aess what had {Hreyiously been discovered on ikit
•abject* At theclose of his speech, he begged Df
FHestly to continiie his libeml and Talnahle in-
i9Qirie«,r-^-« request which be did not Mi to com^
fly ¥wtb.

His sectmd diseomrse was e<]^ly weU received ;.
and in point of compowticm, wbs eonndered snpe-^
rior to the former. In it be gave a curious and
interesting account oi the Torpedo, and of some in<*
genious experiments made by^ Mr Walsh, the suc^-'
eessful competitor, relaliye to the electrical- pro^*
parties of that extiviHrdinary fish. Thewholedis-
eoune ii>oiinds with ancient and modem learning
and exhibits the President's knowledge in natural
history as well as in medicine, to great advantage*
Tlie next occasion whidi called i^n him to exerr
eise his lahiliiies in this way, was on a subject emi-
nmitly knportant, being no less than an attempt to
establish Sir Isaae Newton's system of the uni*
Terse. This was undertaken and successfully ao-
cinnplished by Dr Maskelyne, in his '' Observa*
ti(ms made on the mountain Schehallien, (Perth*
shire), for finding its attraction," which obtained
|he honour of the Society's gold medal. Sir J dm
Fringle took advantage of this opptntunity to give
n perspicuons and accurate relation of the several
jiypotheses of the ancients, with regard to the re-
volutions of the heavenly bodies : and of the noble
discoverief with which Copernicus enriched the as*

x2

846 CONVEilTS FROM INFIDBLITY.

tronomical world. He then traced the progress of
the grand principle of gravitation down to Sir
Isaac's illostrious confirmation of it ; to whidi he
JEidded a concise narratiye of . the experiments
made on Chimharaco, by the two French philoso-
phers, Bonguer and Condamine, and by Dr Mas-
kelyne at Schehallien. This ^lingaished astro-
nomer has had the singular honour of estabHsfaing
so firmly, the doctrine of universal attracticm, by
this finishing step of the analysis, that the most
scrupulous can no longer hesitate, to unbrace a
principle which gives life to astronomy, by ac-
counting for the various motions and appearances
of the hosts of heaven.

The foxuth medal was assigned to Captain
Cook, for his skilful treatment and success in pre-
serving the health of the men of his Majesty's ship
the Resolution, during her voyage round the
world. This was a subject perfectly congenial to
the disposition and studies of Sir John Pringle,

, whose life had been much employed in pointing
out the means which tended not only to aid, but
to prevent the diseases of mankind ; and it is pro-
bable, from his intimate friendship with Captain
Cook, that he might have suggested to that saga-
cious navigator, some of the plans which he fol-
lowed with such astonishing success. With a com-
pany of 118 men, he performed a voyage of more
than three years, throughout all the climates from
52 degrees north, to 71 south, with the loss of
only one man by sickness. By precautions equally
wise and simple, he rendeiedthe circumnavigation
of the globe, so far as health is concerned, quite
a harmless object. And besides his admirable skill

in preserving \h^ live^ «Q!^ health oi his 8ail<N:8|

SIR JOHN PRINGLE. , 94>7

he discoTered and surveyed vast tfkcU of new
coasts, dispelled the iUnsion of a Southern Conti-
nent, and fixed die bounds of the habitable eatth, as
well as those of the navigable ocean, in the antarc-
iic hemisphere. To this mark of honour, therefore,
that distinguished voyager seemed well entitled ;
but he was not present to receive it, being then
upon his last expedition, from which unfortunately
he never returned.

The next annual dissertation gave Sir John an
opp(H*tunity of displaying his knowledge in a way
in which it had not hithato been tried. « The dis*
course took its rise from a paper by Mr Mudge,
an eminent surgeon at Plymouth, to whom the
prize medal .had been adjudged, containing <' Di-
rections for making the best composition for the
metals of Reflecting Telescopes." On this occa-
sion the learned Baronet related a variety of parti-
culars concerning the invention of reflecting teles-
copes, the subsequent improvements of these in-
struments, and the state in which Mr Mudge
found them, when he first set about manufacturing
them in greater perfection. From this recapitula-
tion he naturally directed his thoughts to the won-
ders that astronomy presents to our view, and to
the admirable advantages which philosophical
science has derived, frt)m the methods that have
been pursued for enlaipng the powers of vision.

His sixth and last discourse was on the theory
of gunnery, occasioned by Dr Hutton*s curious
paper on uie ** Fmrce of fired gun-powder, and the
initial velocity of cannon-balls, detenbined by ex-
periments," which had obtained the gold medal.
This was probably a subject to whidi Sir John had
paid very little attenlioni though he had so lon^

Ml6 CONVERTS VROM INFIDBLITT.

ilt«nded the anny. Yet h b rarpriEdng- with wlMtr
degree of perap i cu it y sod judgment, he has etatadt^
the progress that was made km time to time, kt
the knowledge of project9ea» «&d the seientifie pepi^
fcction to wHch his fnend Dr Huttonbed earned
this theory. He was not eiie-of those who de^
Ik^ited in war, and in the shedding of Immaar
^M>d; andhe was ha{q[>yin being able to shew, that
•yen the study of artillery ivight be useful to
mankind; accordingly he has not forgotten to^
inention this among the other military t^^ wfaieh
hedisciisseoft This was the het of us annlflBraary-
dissertations ; although, had he continded to hold
^le- chair of ^e Royii Society, he would no doubt
have found other occasions of displaying his ao*-

r'ntance wilh the Instery of phikeefH^. Bmr
opportunities which he hadof^ngnatiahiirbm*
self ki this respect, were important in themselves^
Ju^ipily varied, and amply su^Sdent to give him a-
poM tw lasting reputation.

He was now arrived at a late period of life ; and^
eonndering the extreme actteutioa that was poki by
him to the various and important duties of his U*
fice, and the great pains he took in the prepanK
tion of his discourses, it was natural to eeq^eet that
the burden of his honourable station should grow
heavy upon him in Course of time. This load was
increased not mily by the weight df years and Isr
hours, but bv the misfortune of an accidental iUl,
from which he received considerable mjury s and
which in its consequences affected his oeidth and
weakened his spirits. Sudi bdng the state fii hit
body and mind, he began to entertain thoughta of
resigning the presidency. It has been said l^s-
iria^j^ioid believed, i3QaX\Mb^ii%attn^ by the

SIR JOHN PBINGLE. 249^

dispntes introduced into the Society, on the que9-
tion. Whether pointed or blunt electrical condncr
tors are the most efficacious in preserving build-
ingB from the effects of lightning? — a subject \
Tvfaich was agitated with as much intolerance and (
asperity of temper, as ever were the points in He- j
brew, or the dc^;mas of speculative theology. ^

Peihaps the general state of his health, and his
declining years, will form sufficient reasons for hia
resignation; his intention, however, was by no
moans agreeable te his literary friends, and to many
distinguished members of the Royal Society. Ac-
cordingly, they earnestly solicited him to continue
m office ; but his resolution being fixed, he gave
in his resignation at the anniversary meeting 6f
1778, and was succeeded by Sir Joseph Banks,
a gentleman who devoted a long life to the ser-
vice of natural philosophy, and whose niame has
since filled so pronmient a space in the annals,of
general science. But though the ex-president lutd
^tted his official relationship to the Royal So-
ciety, and did not attend its meetings so regularly
as formerly, he still retained his literary habits and
onmections. His house continued to be the re-
sort of ingenious and learned men, both of his own
country and from abroad. He was held in parti-
cular esteem by all foreigners of any literary pre-
t^osions, none of whom visited England without
waiting upon him, and paying him the greatest
re&pect. He treated them in return with distin-
guished civility and regard; and when a number
of gentlemen met at his table, foreigners were
usually a part of the company. His guests were
collected from almost every kingdom in Europe ;
and in one instance, it happeqed th3t each of them

£50 COKVSRTS FROM INFIDSLITY.

of a difierent nsdon ; tbeTO being eight per-
eoiw prewnt, rur. a Scotaman, an Eiif^Bhiiuui,
a Datdunan, a GemwD, a FrfmrilnnaB, a Spaniard,
an Italian, and a Rnauan. Thoogli they ware ail
divernfied in country, edacadmi, modaa of Ufa, wad
principlm of religioa ; these prored no obatMie ta
their mutoal haimeny and mte nw aweb

In consequence of his mcreasing mfirmitiei^ Sir
John resolved on a joomey to BiDotlaiidy in tha
hope that an ezcnrsion to his natha eomitry vdf^
Vrova advantageous to his health. Aaoordin^
lis spent the sunnier of 1780, principally in EiSn-
Voigli ; and wfaetiier or not he had wen fsmed a
design of fixing his restdenoe permanently in thai
city» he was so well pleased with the place to nUdi
he had been habituated in his voanger yeBi% sad-
with the respect shewn him by his fneam, that ha
liwrchased a house there^ to irhkHi he intended to
fetum in Uie following spring. This scheme he
began immediately to carry into ezecatimi. He
Boid his house in London, disposed of the greatest
pert of his library, and in April 1781, he removed
to Edinburgh.

Here he was treated, by persons of all lanfcs^
with every mark of distinction ; but he found not
that ideal happiness realized, which lus imagination
had pictured to itself. Edinburgh was not diento
him what it had been in early life. The vivacity of^
his spirits, which, in the buoyancy <^ youth, ipraad
such a charm on the objects Uiat surround aa» wm
iled, and with it the capacity of enjoyment. Most
of his old friends and contemporaries ware dead ;
and though some of them remamed, they could
not ineet together with the same strength of con-
atitution^ the same ardour of pursuit^ the

SIR JOHK PRIKOLS. 851

ttmiailioB of htife, wliidi they fcwmerly poeiMisddi

The jamgm men of eminence paid lum the nkk^

-^eerart testtmoiue* cpf eateem and regard ; bat it

was too kte m life Ibriiim to form new hahita of

-4doae and eoBgeniid fneadsliip. He found tikewtse^

the ak of the place toe iriiarp and oAd for hii

liBBiey which time and dimaite had rendered pecs«

4iarly aensihlo to ihe sererities of weather. Td

these ineen>reiiienee8> peihapa may he added m

-«eetleasne8»of oond peodiar to inirafids, and whloll

In the midst of hodny oon^f^amts, is still hoping to

/derive hene&t hom a diange <tf place. Acccvd*

-ingly, Sir Jolm determined to retim once mere to

£.midon, where iie arrived in ^ beginning of Se|M

^mber; having, before his departttreiknn EiJia*

bnrgh, presented to the Royal College of Fhytn*

eians in ^t dty, ten volnmes folio of ^ Medical

nnd Physical Observations," in mannscrilpt; adding

nn injunction, that they shodid not be pvd^lidieil

•Mor lent out of ihe libnu^, 4m .any j»atraK:8 whet*

«ever.

Hm oeidiality and affecfion with 'Whii^lie WW
received bade by his frills, tended somewhat to
revive his langnid spirits. He again resomed hia
xmstomary entertainments of conversing with meA
<fi letters, and attending the meetings of a select
eociety in theStrand, iduchhe had long freqnenteck
His mornings were chiefly ^nployed in receiving
and retnrning^vifflts of his various acquaintance:;
nnd he had usually a smafl party ^ dine wi^ hia
«t his apartments in King Street, St James* Square^
His strength, however, declined wilh a rapiditjf
whtdi did not pemnt his friends to 1m^ t^ luo
life would 4ong be continued ; and on the 14fth o§
January 178% he was seised with a fit| from vhifib

25S CONVERTS FROM INFIDBLITY.

he neTer n^covered. He was attended iQl dtt
time of his illness, with unwearied asBidiiity^ hf
pr Sannders; for whom he had the highest regard ;
and in whom he had, in every re^iec^ jmtly plaeed
the most iinreserr(^ confidence. But all medieri
attention served no purpose, for he died in tbb
Gonrse of four days, heing on Friday the 18th of
the month, in the 75th year of his^ age.
., His death shewed the high estimation- wifidi
was every where entertained of Ms merit, for the
account <^ it was.recieived with a sensadon of deep
and general regret. ' On the 7th of Fehmary he
was interred in St James's Church, with great
funeral solemnity, and ^th a very honourable at-
tendance elf eminent and respectable friends. That
every propw tribute of respect might be paid to so
distinguished a character, an elegant monument,
with an English inscription, was erected in West-
minster Abbey, imder the direction and at the
expense of his nephew and heir. Sir James Pringle
of Stitchel, Bart. At Edinburgh, his memory was
honoured with s^ public testimcmy of itsgard, for at
ihe firdt meeting of the College of Physidans af-
ter his decease, all the members appeared in deep
mourning.

Sir John was married, in 1752, to Charlotte,
second daughter of Dr Oliver^ an eminent physi-
cian at Bath, and who had long been at die head
of his profession in that city. This eonnectioa,
however, was but of short duration, the lady hav-
ing died within a few years after their iraicm. 'He
had, in course of his long practice, acquired a very
handsome fortune, which, at his death, he dispose
of with great prudence and propriety. As a proof
of bk affiectiomte le^d for severtd of his

SIR JOHN PRINGLKi 253

Ibid reUitnioiiSy he iippropriated a Bum of about
jB700 aryear to annuities ; whicb^ on the decease
of the annuitants) were revertible to his nephew.
Sir James, whom he had appointed his sole exe-
eator^and widi the above exceptions, heir to ail
his propwty.

: His medical character, both as an author and a
practitioner, is well known, and has been miirersaUy.
acknowledged. In the exercise of his prc^essioiiy
he was not rapacious, being ready on yarious oc-
casions to give his advice without pecuniary views*
The turn of his mind led him chiefly to the love
of science, which he built on the firm basis of hct,
With regard to philosophy in general, he was as
averse to theory, imsupported by experiments, as
he wiBS with respect to medicine in particular.
l<ord Bacon was his favourite author, and to the
method of invest^tion recommended by that
great man, he steadily adhered. To metaphysical
disquisitions he lost sill- r^ard^ in the latter part
of his life ; and thou^ some of hk most valued
friends had engaged m discussions of this kind,
with very different views of th^ he did not
choose to revert to the studies of his youth, but
contented himself with the opinions he had then
formed.

la early life he had not heeia neglectM of. phi-
lological inqiuries ; and though he had omitted
them for a time, yet he resumed the snlject again ;
and at an advanced period of life turned his atten-
tion to the Greek, so far at least, as to endeavour
to obtain a more exact knowledge of that language.
He knew the French language accurately; and
it is said he was fond of Voltaire's critical writings.
Among all his other pursuits, he never forgot tha.

VOL. I. X

254 COKV^ftTS FROxM IHVIDELITY.

ttadj of the English langiiage. Uns he regnAed
88 a mattOT of so much consequeiiGe, that m Meii:
uncommon pains with respect to the styl0 ef hH
compomtions; and it cannot be demed, that lie
excels in perafHcaity, c o rre ctn ess, and proprietf
of expression. Tlioiigfa he slighted poetry", stt Att*
e*ren as to feel but UtUe impressed with the charioa
of the immortal SMsapeaie, fet he was very pnS
tial to music, and sometimes performed on llir
yioloncello, at a weekly concert given by a sOdetjr
of amateurs in Edinburgh.

His intellectual was not more amiaMe or excel-
lent than his moral character, so fiir as ati upright
and honourable conduct is concaned. The pn^
dominating feature in it was integrity ; and hy'^bia
principle he was uniformly actuated in iSie wliole
of Ms oehaviour. All his acquaintaiice willt onee
Toice agreed that there never was a man of stricter
honour and veracity. He was equally Temaxkable
for his sobriety, having, as he confessed, nerer in
his life been intoxicated with liquor. In his ex-
ternal manners he was affable and poHte ; he paid
a very respectful attention to diose whom'^ cB"
teemed, ibougfa he bad a kind of reserve in his de-
portment, when he was not perfectly pleased with
the persons who were introduced to him, or who
happened to be in his company. His sense of in-
tegrity and dignity would not permit him to adopt
that raise and superficial politenesef, which treats
all men alike, however different in pmnt of real
estimation and merit. He was above assuming
the forms or professions of respect, without its
i-eality. In his friendships he was ardent and
steady. The intimacies which he had formed in
ibe early part oi \ub \\i^ at Edinburgh, continued

SIR JOHN PRINOLE. 265.

unbroken to the last, and ware sustained by a re-
gnlar correspondence^ and by all tbe good offices
that lay in his power.

But tbe most important view in which he must
here be contemplated, is, with regard to his religioiiA
charactei'* . In his youth he seems to hare pos-
9eefie4 every facility iar acquiring the elements*
both of a pious and a liberal educadon. Nurtured,
with the tenderest care^ under the immediate eye
of parental afl^tion, and secluded by tbe inigilance
of domestic tuition, from the example and eonta-
gpum of yice^ he must have enjoyed peculiar adran-
tagea both as to claswical and moral instruction;
and escaped many temptaticms, which in other dr- .
Ginnstaiiae^ migjht have, counteracted the effect of
l^ieee imiutary precautions. The principles of virtue
and piety which were thus early instilled into his
rnind^ theoi^ they sujSered a temporary relaxation, .
do not appear ever to have entirely lost their in-
fluence upom bis general conduct.
. When he travdUed abroad^ however, and wit- :
neased scenes of reckless dissipation and hardened
d^iravity, or perinps, from hid fondness for foreign
literature, allowed his mind to be seiluced by the
libertine philosophy of the Continent^ his belief in
the Chriirtiaa revelation was so hi unsettled, that
ha became a sceptic on that subject, if not a pro-
f^ssfid. Deist. One cause of this was^ the wrong
notions he had ffHrmed^ eoncoiting the peculiar
doctrines of the New Testament; and it may
easily be supposed, that he was encouraged in his
scruples by tbe company he met with, both in
England mH m foreign parts. But it was not
conai^ent with his candid and inquisitive dispo-
sition to rest satisfied in his doubts and difiicul-

2bS CONVERTS FROM INFIDSllTY.

ties, with respect to a matter of sack hi^h iaio'
portance. Indolent . credulity or sen^ acqoir:
escence, were no constituents of Ins dharacta'.'
He was too great a lorer of truth not to niake re-,
ligion the object of his serious inquiiy. As he
scorned to be an implicit beUerer without a doe*
knowledge and examination of the subject^ he was
eoually averse to become an implicit unbeliever;
which is generally the case with those who reject
Christianity ; and who adopt and maintain their- ob-'
jections with as much ign<nance and prejudice as
ibe most determined bigots embrace their systema'
of folly and absurdity. He therefore set himsdf to
study the Scriptures, and read bocfks on divinily. •
It was mentioned that Sir Jdbn had late in life
turned his attention to Greek, and his motive for
revising Us knowledge of that langua^, was widi
a view to the better understanding iheNew Testa-'
ment. He corresponded freipiently with ihe dis>
tinguished foreigner Michaelis, on theological
subjects ; and that learned professor addressed to
him some letters on ^ DameFs Prophecy of the '
Seventy Weeks," which Sir John thought wcwrUiy
of being published in this country ; which he did
in 1773, with considerable pains, and at some ex-
pense. He was a diligent and frequent reader
of sermons, and bestowed a critical attenticm on
various other parts of sacred literature. IVIuch of
his time, during the latter part of his life, was de-
voted to this interesting and favourite pursuit.
He read many Commentators on Scripture espe-
cially on the New Testament, of which he was
anxious to obtain an exact knowledge. The learned
and judicious Bishop Pearce*s Commentary anc^
NoteSf gave him particular pleasure. The pains

SIR JOHN PRINOLK- 257

]he to6k to obtain infimmation on this important
ra¥}^ct are highly ptaifle-w<Mrthy, and »ueh as are
rarely to be met with among literary teen ; and it
cannot but collfer a more illnstrious distinctkm oi^
Ids character, that, while oecnpied with ftoch inten-
sity of application hi llie pumiitfl of medical and
p}i^lo90pmcal ecience, he did not permit qaestioiia-
of nobler aim and highor interest to pass unexa^
mined cur disregarded.

The resnlt of his investigations was such as the
Trader must have already anticipated, and as have
fre<piently been seen exemplified in similar ii\-
stanceSy-'-a fiill conviction of the divine origin and
authority of the gospel. The evidences of revela-
tion Appeared to &m, after mature researdi and de-
liberation, to be solid and invincible ; and the na-
ture of it to be such as demanded the most grate-
ful acceptance. In conformity with these discove*
ries, and with the religion which he found to be
true, he regulate<l the whole tenor of his conduct.
Whatever were his peculiar views of some of its
doctrines, these had no effect in shaking his be-
lief, or in leading him to neglect its duties. As >
hie was thus firmly persuaded of the trulii of the (
gospel, he lived habituaUy under its influence. [^
He was animated with a strong sense of piety to ~
the Supreme Being, which displayed itself in a re-
gular attendance on public worsnip, in the exer-
cise of private devotion, and in an endeavour to
disdiarge all the obligations of Christian virtue.
In him we have another instance of those illustrious
philosophero, who have not been ashamed of reli-
gion, an4' who reckoned that his greatest glory,
wWh W0fky woi^d impute to him 89 a weakness. ^
Much oi his ttine, especially after he had retired

y2

S58 CONVERTS FHOM IVFlDStlTT.

firom the dignities and duties of professional life,
was spent in reading and studying works of theo-*
logy ; and there is every reason to conclude, that
the consolations and hopes derived from these sto-"
dies, would yield him greater encouragement at
last^ and appear more estimable in his eyes, than
all the achievements he had performed, or the
flattering honours he had won, during his long and
splendid presidency over the arts and sdeBeest ^

A
i^

J

GILBEftT WEST. ** iSXf

GILBERT WEST.

Gilbert Wbst, an amiable and elegant writer, <
was bom at Winchester, in the year 1706. His
ftither was the Rev. Dr West, of an ancient fa^
mily, and eminent for his worth and learning ; par-
ticularly for his classical attainments, of which he
gave proof, by 8i:q)erintending an edition of Pindar
in the original, published at Oxford in 1697.
Bishop Burnet presented him with the lining of
Hmuked in Berkshire ; and, in the reign of Queen
Anne, Lord Orfbrd procured him a Prebendary's
stall in liie Cathedral of Winchester. At the ac-
cession of George I. he was appointed one of his
first chaplains, and had a promise from his Majesty
of one of the first vacant bishoprics, — ^a promotion
iv^ich he did not live to obtam, having died in
1718. His mother was Maria Temple, sister of Sir
Richard Temple, afterwards Lord Cobham, and of
Lady Lyttelton, mother of the distinguished noble-
man already mentioned. She was heir to her
brother 8 estate, but lost the right of inheritance
by marrying a man without property ; her other '
sister succeeded to the forfeited claim. She was
a lady of great piety and good sense, and in the
careful discharge of parenttd duty, took pains early
to imbue her son's mind with religious principles,
and to enforce them by a consistent example.

Mr West received the elementary ^ail q{ V^ ^^^-^

260 CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY.

csdon at the schools of Winchester and Eton, wiieiii
he attained the distinction of Ci4>tain. Thenc^hi^
was removed to the Uniyersity of Oxford, and esfr-
tered at Christ-Church, where his stadions habits
and serious turn of mind inclined him to take or-
ders, — a profession for Wlddi he was designed hy
both his parents. But losing lus father wiien in
lus twelfth year, and fiolling under the protection
and patronage 6i his tak}», Lord Cobfanm, hssT at-
tention was diverted ir<Hn the study of ctivinity t»'
the more alluring profession of a mhifary life ; mA,
it was amidst the gideties and seducliotts of his ttd-.

r' Lcipled ^mpaaions, espeeiitty of his undeyiliait
fint imbibed those doubts eC the Christian 10-'
ligion, which afterwards, v^^ a more attedtive
^Eamination of the subject, he found reason to re- '
tract. He e<mtinued for nomB time in the ttmy,
as Comet of a troop of horse it l&i uncle's regi-
ment, though it aj^^eors he netthei' sunk Into Um
mere soldier, by renouaoing his sobriety of man*
ners ; nor so far lost the lov^ of study, as entirely .
to neglect literary pursuttsk

For this mode of lifSs, however, he had no gfreai
partiality, and was glad to take the first oppoirtn-
nity that offered of estchaaging it for civfl einploy- .
ment. Accordingly, he laid down his commissm
for an opening of another nature, which presented
him wiUi a more flattering ptospect of &titre ad-
vancement in the world. A scheme b^g about
this tim» projected, for training a certain number
of mdividuals for public services, as ambassaikn
or envoys ; several young gentlemen were chosro
out of the universities, who were to be taught the
foreign languages at the expoiae- of ^venuneut^
and then send to \\i& ci^bfiA cfL^^M^^ora^sMPstMy

GILBERT W£ST, " 261

t^. be initiated into business. Mr West having
disdngnished himself at Oxford, was <Hie of the
few recommended for this purpose. I

■HaTing engaged in business under the Secretar^t
of Stat^ Lord Townshend, he was treated by him
with erery maik of kindness and regard ; and af-i
terwanls enlisted in his suite, when he accompanied
his Majesty, George I. upon the occasion of visit-
ing his Hanoverian dominions. Sir Robert Wal-
pole had a high esteem for him, and testified th»
s^ngest inclination to serve him. These facilities
for preferment, however, were rendered fruitless,
by his uncles sysftematic opposition to the mea-
sures of the Court ; and he was candidly told by
the ministry, that he was not to expect they were
to promote his interest, as any favour conferred
upoii him would be considered as :done io Lord
Gobham. All he obtained, therefore, was merely
a nomination, in 1729, to be clerk extraordinary to
the PVivy Council ; which was procured him
through the interest of the Duke of Devonshire,!
by one of his sons, with whom West had contracted.
a friendship at school. This, however, yielded no
unmediate profit ; but only placed him in a state
of expectation and right of succession, and it war
long before a vacancy admitted him to the emohi*
ments.

Disappointed in his. political views, Mr West
soon aft^nvards left the office of the Secretary of
State, and retired to a pleasant residence at Wick-
ham in Kent, where he devoted himself chiefly to
literary and theological study. Here his income
was but limited^ and neither his own merits, nor
the recommendation of his friends, could procure
him |my means of increasing it. It is said, indeed.

K2 CONVERTS FROM IVFIDELITV.

thai the education of the young Fkimem of VMm
afterwazdi George III. wis dffnred; hii% bat theti
he required a more eztennTe power of sapeMteor
dence than: it was thought proper to allotr him*
Mr West married, ab<rat 1734» the daughter of
a Mr Bartlistt; and with: the frugal mataMs-
ment of his scanty income^ be ei^^redL if not 2ie
kunuries, at least the comforts andcoaureBienMB of
life ; and with a companion, in whom all theimi-
aUe and Tirtuous qni&ties of the hniBaa chaiBcter
were hapjnly united^ he Uved in §n^ d o m e stie
comfort.

Though not rich, he had suffident to enable bim:
to entertain his friendi with hospitality. He dxew.
around him the society of a few select cpPipanion%'
and among his frequent yiastoiB weie Mm, Gewsgl^. .
Lyttelton, and Mr William Pitt.. In this Iktk.
drcle he often enjoyed pleasadt and iii8tmctiTe.fi-,
iterary conyersation, which was always aaopported
vq>on ^e prindples of yirtne, 90und rei^pning^ auid .
solid friendship, and which rend««d hia rami,
asylum a peaceable retreat from thetrtorms of poll-
lical faction and debate.

Lyttelton has recorded in a few. elegant JimtB,
the pleascffe he derived from these mt^ftllectoid.
visit^ and the eagerness with which he ccwited..
the solitude of lliis channing retirement.

Fur nature's sweet rinmlicity

With elegance refitteo.
Well in thy seat, my friend I see,

but better in tky mind ;
To both, from Courts and all their state,

Eaffer I fly, to prove
Joys tar abore a courtier's ftite.

Tranquillity and lore.

GILBERT WEST. £68

Htamond, aatli^ of ^le Elef^ wait here a he*
qwMit nsilor, and fouod in the aame deliglitfiii
eon^enstioiis a tenaporaiy relief from the ansdetiea
oflov6b

And you, O West, with her your partner dear.
Whom social worUi, and usei\il sense commend.
With learning's feast my drooping nind shall cheer,
-Okd to Mcape from love to such a friend.

And here it was, as we have already noticed,
iJiat £3rttelton, after an attentiye examination cf
the doctrines aiid evidences of Christianity, toge-^
ther with the religions conversation of his friend
and connn, received that thorough conviction of Ufi .
tnidiy which produced his Dissertation on the Coo^
version of St Paul. Mr West was likewise in thb
-ccmstaikt habit of corresponding with many pioui
and Hterary men, especially with Dr Doddndg^^
with whom he had contracted a very ^eat inti-
macy, ttid whose Family Expositor was ushered
:into the woild, under the auspices of his recom- .
■Tnendanon.

The first of Mr West's literary efforts, waa a
•poem, entitled the '* Institution of the Order of
the Garter," published in 1742, which is distin-
guished for the knowledge it contains of the man-
ners diat ^evailed in ^e age to which it referred ;
as well as for its splendid diction and elegant fancy.
His next production was his Translation of the
Odes of Pindar, with a Dissertation on the Olympic
Games, which are executed witJi great labour and
great ability, and shew him to have been eminent
as a Greek scholar.

His imitations of Spencer are also happily exe-
cuted ; Dr Johnson, though perhaps he detracts
too much from the merits of this kind of v>o(it>icaJL

S64 CONVERTS iPROM INFIDELITY.

aUainment, has observed, that, " bodi with fB^ieef
to the metre, the language, and the fictioo, they
are very snocessfnlly performed ; and being' en-
gaged at once by the excellence of the smtiBMBtBy
and the artifice of the - copy, the mind haa tsro
amusements together. But such compoaitioaB,''
he adds, ^< aie not te be reckoned among the gnat
achievements of mtellect, becaase their e£Knct>iB
local and temporary. Woiks of this kind may
deserve praise, as proofs of great induatrjF and
great nicety of observation, but the hidwst praise,
me praise of genius, they cannot claim. His other
compositions are. Translations from the Argoiiau-
tics of Apollonius Rhodius, and the TragK^wdagra
of Lucian ;' The Abuse of Travelling ; and £ldiMa-
tion ; together with Original Poems on various oc-
casions : all which productions, though not dis-
tinguished by the same excellenoe, daun for their
iauther a very respectable rank amoi^the seccmdary
class of British Poets. His whole poenoa and
translations were published in a collected form,
and inscribed to Pitt and Lyttelton.

But Mr West did not only cultivate an acquain-
tance with the muse8> he also applied himself to
study and to recommend the Sacred Orades, an
examination into which he was led, with a view
either to confirm or to remove the sceptical opinions
which he had unbapp^ y contracted. In early Hfis,
as has been stated, Wore he was able to give a
reason of the hope that was in him, and befora hs
had narrowly conndo'ed the evidence upon which
the Scriptures rested; the corrupt cimreraalum
of his uncle, Lord Cobham, had imbued him witb
sentiments hostile to reveladon ; more eapeeially
to the Chmlian YeW^otu

GKZABRT WEST* 2^

/yfhBat^ like BiAny ether infidels, he wished to he aa
k^ nabelieyer in jcompwoy rather than when alone. In
die aoUtude of the closet he could net stifle those
. principles which maternal care had impressed on his
yottdiful mind ; they rose up before him, with thek
kDpomnce heightened' by a recollection of all the
tendemesa and solicitude with which they were
incnlcBted* They rebuked him, as it were, for the
^fblly■of his conduct, and ren^red him unhappy.
5Che8» early impressions and recollections not only
prevented him from becoming hardened in infide-
lity, hut they naturally led him to examine the
troth of that rdtigion from which they were de-
liredy— to inquire into the foundation upon whidi
it was built ;-^-and his inquiry, as in all cases when
eonducted with candour and honesty, was rewarded
with a friU conviction of its truth and importance,
r We cannot here omit inserting part of a letter
to Dr Doddridge, relative to the present subject*
' V One thing," says he, *< I cannot help taking no-
tice of to you upon this occasion, viz. your re-*
. marks upon the advantage of an early education
in the principles of religion, because I have myself
most happily expmenced it ; since I owe to the
. eariy- care of a most excell^it wonum, my mother,
'- ^whose character I dare say you are no stranger
* to), that bent and bias to religion, which, with the
> ' eOH^erating .grace of God, lu^ at length brought
' wo^. back to time paths oi peace, from wfich I might
bave otherwise been in danger of deviating for
ever. The parallel betwixt me and CoL GardinevX
was, in this instance^ too strikmg not to affect me J
exceedingly.''

. Thus confirmed in the truth of the Christian re-^
ligion, Mr West conceived that he could not be a

z

itS^ CONVEaTS VROIf 1W9IDELITY.

witb its pm dictale8» and hence ihef fm/ey.w^kk
nudked the whole tenor of faie ooadoct, oflfae foaui
cerity of niiich he hw given us 'die Mrangcil
proof, by hasd^enoe of that fmidemental aittekiQf
Christianity, the Bemwreotkim tf C^rutfiiam tim
.dead. This work h regarded as an able-'perteuF
ance, displaying mnch patient m^rwtigasie%'«Ml
amxte reasoning. It has been tfvnriated int^^eeve*
ral AH'^gn huoguages, and in -farions weli^itleBted
instances, has been prBeerihed with thelumiaet
success, as an antidote against die poison of inSde^
lity. It stands conspieaone aaseng theae hn pt eg*
nable bnhrarks of Clnistianity^ whidi serre atoaoe
for beauty and for strength, and against which n«i
weapon forged by the ingenuity of its enentde^ has
erer yeit been foimd to prevaiL As aiBiiBteily db^
fence of the #ESth, it friaced its anthor in die first
ranks of contrormisi diirintty.

In conftderBtion of its intrinnc exoelltnce, and
as the tribttte of a laysMui to the cause ^ ear com*
mon reHgimi, it was rewarded by the tJn ii^sity
ef Oxford with die degree of Doctor of Laws con*
ferred on the writer. Man3r ef his former friends^
unaware of die renrohttion of the audior's aenti*
ments, boi^ht his work^ in eniectation of newob*
jections against revealed religion ; and when diey
found die case otherwise, with die cbaracterietib
asalfignit^ of infidek, against whom he had dedaied
open hosdHty, they revenged their disappet nument

{by calling him Methodist^ which, in their eyes, ap->
peered sufficiently opprobrious.

About five years after the publication of the
work in question, and afiter his name had been up-
mnrde of twenty yenra v^oathe list for pi«fonneq%

GILBERT WEST* 267

Mr Witt obtaiiMd env of tho lucnaxreclerkshipa
of ih^ Pri^y Council i «id Mr PiUy who liad been
kia fiiequent viMtor |4 . WiolduuBy becoxning Pay-
liteter- Generali bad it now in bis power to confer
a&vaiv OB hia early fiiend, by appointing him to
the office of Treasurer of Chelsea Hos{»taL Hif
kicoBse WiH.now sufficiently l$ai§;%. b^jhe fM|g-
mentafcioa of wealth could neither prolong lif% oo^r
ineteaae its M^oyments* Shortly afitei hit appoint-
mcnta, he waa visited with a severe affliftyia? in
the- de$th of hin Wy son, in 4he tweatiBth year of
Us age ; aiMl the year afker, (March 1756), in cour
ae^uonce of a paralytic stcoke, he was himself
broug^ to the giBve,.at the premature age of
fiftyr .

Mir.^Wee((*8 eharaeter waa truly amiable and eih
ceUeal* ItthimtheChriatian, ^acholar^ and the
gentleman were happily united. His private vir«
tues and social qindities wero such as juatly en-
deared hmi io hm frieiMls. All his contemporaries
aro landi in tbur preiaes of his piety, probity, And
Igniaiile benerolence. Pope, in testimony of his
osieemy hit him by his will, £5, to be laid out in
a ring» or- any o&ier m<Knorial; beiddei^ £200^
iiiikh wete:tD revert to ]nm oa the death 1^ anc^hef
anwittairti Hta. mannen and ccmversation, though
serious^ were tft the aEune time agreeable and lively^

''"^e was regular and exemplary in his balnts of li4»
attendvo ta the public ordimmces of religic», at
wi^.as to iJm perfinrmanee of peiBonai and toily
devDtion,t*-diities which he conccdved to be Iwid^
wg on all who profess Cbristianity, and which he
felt to be eanuMted with hie own present and fu-
ture happxneaa; with domestic peace and tranquilr

^ -^y^ a& wen aa the good order and wel&re of so .

26$ CONVERTS FROM lNFlt>ELITT.

dety. HiB varioms woiks exhibit
dence of his learning and his religion ; and fira
uniTersal excellence of his character, he may
garded as one of those to whom the grare
be without its terrors, and a rare instance 9
the votaries of the muses, who could claim
justice the two yenerable names of Poe
Saint.

This short account of Mr West, of whoi
to be regretted, that biography has so little
cord, we shall close, with some remarks on h
tory and habits, published irom the manusci
Mr Jones, Vicar of Hitdiin, one (tf his int
friends, and wdl known fcH- the active sha
took in the ** Free and Candid Disquisitions.''
West was a person of great discoimienty a
a v^ quick apprehension, and readily sa^
men and things. He was lively and agn
in conversation, and very much of a genti
in all his behaviour. I have heard him sa;
in his younger days, he had gone over inl
quarters of infidelity. His uncle, the late
Cobham, did all in his power to instil such
ciples into his mind, and that of his cousin
telton, when they ptdd their visits to him.
the latter, he saic^ happily stood his ground
made little or no progress in theseperverse
eiples. His uncle, even after his Treatise o
Resurrection, left him a legacy of £ 1000.

He was very regular and exemplary in f
religion ; offered up prayers, (those of the j
liturgy) every day, when well, at deven i
morning; and then when the weather wa;s
rode out for his health. On Sundays he w<
church, (not to that of his own paiish, but U

OILBEBT WEST. 969

ol St Jttnw'a, Dt Cltfk^a drardiy) and at (ftyanbig
anlertd hk servmiit* 16 cnvie into the paflenr,
whed he read to tham the late Dr Clarke's Ser*
MMBB, «Dd dien went to prayera. He read them
dlwa;^ hhttself. One thmg waa smnewfaat aiiigii*'
far, he slways said grace himself at lua tables
■though a clergyman was presenti He gave me
his reasons of his own aeeerd, and I did not disap*
prore thettw

He bore his last illness in a Tcry esttdplary
matmer; wery patient, and entirely resigned to the
Dirna wilU He had formed an esculent design
oi pfOTing tlie authenticity of the New Testameat^
fixHn many obsenrations that had oecmted la him
from time to time, whidi he had begmi to liote
down ; and I remember he shewed me soma tbZii-
ahle faints, that had be^i conmnmieated to him by
Dr Doddridge, particuhn^ly drawti from the ceik*
eeanons of Celsns and others, amengst lhe mora
early opposers of Cbristiaiiity. He seemed to de-
light in that subject, and to bis fitlly veiolTed to
pitrstie it, if God shoald giv^ him opportnnitiea.
I haye heard him expatiate npon it in conrersa-
tion, with great clearness of judgment, and strength
of argnmenti What became of his prepantoty
papers upon it since his decease, I know not, bat
have reMon to beKeve, from what I have hearc^
that they were soon after destroyed, with many
others ; and perhaps all that he hsid left remaining
vpon any topics of theology. Let his memory be
ever dear to me^ and sacred to the friends of
Christiamty in all succeeding ages.**

Mr West*s ^ Observations on the History of the
Resurrection^*' was occasioned, or at least first begun,
partly with the view of obtaining satisflsction for

z2

370 CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY.

himself, upon some difficnlties in the evangelicd nar-
radves of that eyent, which had perplexed his own
mindy and which he had not seen Mly or deatly
explained hy any other writer on the suhject. As k
appeared to him unreasonable to reject Christiaiaty
as a superstitious fable, or a mere politick sdiem^i
without taking the pains tO€onsider, fairly and impar-
tially, its proofs ai^ doctrines ; so he thought who*
ever neglected or refused to make this examinatiotii
could hare no rig^ to pass his judgment upon the
subject ; and shoidd, for the same reason, be cautious
of censuring others who acknowledged it to be a
diyine institution ; especially as there were to be
found in the list of Christians, the great and yqae*
rable names of Bacon, MUton, Boyle, Lodci^ apad
Newton, — ^names to whose auihoiity every ^kiag
should bow but truth,-<— to which they themaetiws
thou^t it not beneath their superior talents to
submit, though she required them to believe die
gospeL

But the chief occamon of his treatise was i»
answer to a Pamphlet, entitled *< The Resurrection
of Jesus Considered ;" the author of which, ende^
voured to overthrow the accounts that are ^vea
of this fa€t,by the evangelists. As the resurrec-
tion of Christ is an article of vast importance, and
lies at the very foundation of his reUgion, bemg
the most illustrious attestation that coidd possibly
have been given to it ; the enemies of Christianity,
have from the beginning bent their utmost efforte,
and pointed their engines against this miradeu
Celsus employed his wit and malice to make it
ridiculous. Woolston, Chubb, and a host of ano*
nymous adventurers signidised themselves in the
sfljne warfore*

GILBERT WEST. 271

Tlie writer of the Ftaiphlet in question, took
'm ihe snbject, and collected with great diligence,
wthat a Uyely mind, animated witib the most d^
^termin«d hostility, could invent or suggest for mis-
Tepresenting the historical truth of the gospel.
The main assertions he undertook to prove, were,
"L That Christ did not foretel his death and re-
fiurrectioii at all, even to^liis own disciples ; and
that all said on this head hy the evangelists, is
naere fiction and forgery. 2. That the whole stoiy
ni the Jewish priests and rulers, setting a watch
at the sepidchre, and sealing the stone, is false and
iaerodible. 3. That the accounts given by the
cfvangeiiBts, are in every part inconsistent, and self^
eoiitnidietOTy ; and carry plain marks of fraud and
impostnre. l^ese objections, some of them too
abtord to reqmre confutation, were ably repelled
in two very learned and ingenious answers, one by
Dr Samuel Chandler, and the other by an anonym
mous author. In these, the fallacy of the reason-
ings and exccfptions against the resurrection was
id[^~ exposed ; and sokitions of the difficulties of-
fered, sttffident to obviate the charge of contra-
diction brought agidnst the sacred fistorians, al-
ihoa^ some of %em were judged not to be so
dear «ad natural, as those adduced by Mr West.

It was Urn persuasion, that the subject was ca-
pable of a mote satisfiactory explanation, that sug-
gested to our author the design of his excellent
Observations. " This," says he, " set me upon
reading and examining with attention the Scrip-
tores-themselves, and widi no other bias than what
aitMse from tlie astonishment I was under, at finding
writers, who, for above the^e sixteen hundred years,
have been reputed holy and inspii-ed, chared mtJi>

fnH CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY.

gatk » ooBtnriety in their acooumt «• ill ap^ied
with either of thote epithets. Of thetnrth ctf thii
duffge, therefore, I acknowledge I had greal^ 4^
ficulty to persuade myself; and indeed it was net
kmg before I discovered, ae I imagiDed^ tihfrTauly
and weakness of sndi an impiftatieiw ■■ Whai 1
hare offered in defence of die evaiitgeliBtB, ia bull
upon the sacred text itself whose true aseainiig I
have endeavoured to invest^ate and pfOTe, lif
comparii^ the several accounts with eidi otiieiv
and noting the agreement aad'disagreenent Of iJU
drcumstances."

This hupmy he omdiicted wiib great€MnlM8t
and discrimination. He began with li^4iig dowft
the <Mrder in which the several incidents relied by
the evangelists^ iq>pear to have happened; and
then he makes some observationa ^pOK ih€ mu^
ner in which the pvoofo of this astonishing event
were laid beffHre the apostles who were afipcnited
to witness it ; and, from a candid and rigorous ei«
amination of the whole,, he has endeavoured ttf
shew that the resurrection of Christ was moet
folly and fairly proved to the apostles and die*
ciples, the first converts and preachers of Cfaria*
Canity. This method he has followed out with
complete success. By comparing the sevend a6*
counts together, the passages recorded by iHie, and
omitted by the rest, and those circumsitaiioes in
which they all agree, ex where they appear to
contradict each other ; he has totally removed tiu
difficulties and inconsistencies chaiged upon tha
inspired narrative ; and taken away the very founda'
Uon of the principal objections that have been aa
often repeated, almost since the very cbnunenca*
ment of ChroiiaxntY.

tllLBERT WEST. 873

lin ijiv69tigatiBg the particulars of thiscwitro-^
▼drted history, hue has made it distinctly a]^)eafy
that the visitors -of the sqmlchre went at difiS^renf
tHiieSy and for different purposes, and not all af
(Mic^ as many have supposed ; and fronHliis sepa-
rating of themselves into distinct companies, arose
ft tanb-di vision oi their story into different reports.
These several conclusions being proved, it beoame
no difficult matter to defend the evangelists against
the imptitation of contradicting each oUier, in the
iiCeounte they have given of the resurrection. Fen*
unless authors who relate differen t and indepen-
dent parts of tlie same histmy^can be saidyTor
j3S t reason, to contradict eadi other, the sacred
penmen must stand acquitted of this charge, as
nuch as any, even the most accurate historian^
ei&er ancient or jnodem. >

- That some of the evangelists record facts which
others have omitted, is quite accountable, from
the view« and motives they had in compiling-their
vespecUve gospels. St Matthew wrote within a;
few years after tiie ascension, and at the request
of the Jewish converts, who having lived in the
cowalkry where the scene of this great event was
laid, were, doubtless, acquainted with many parti-
culars, which, for that reason, it was not necess ary
to mention. This easily accounts for his concise-
ness, and omissions, in some parts rof his narra-
tive, as well as for his noticing certain facts of
i^hieh th^ other historians make no mention, such
as the guarding the sepulchre by the Roman sol-
<£^cs, and the i^pearing of Christto the eleven dis-
cij^es in Galilee ; the former of which was neces-
sary, to furnish ijie Jewish Christians with an an-
sw^ to the absurd story of the disciples having

874 CONVERTS PROM HrRFBLITT.

stoVen tliebaAy by niij^whife lli»MUFd«7:dipC^
which was so iadfiBtiriiKnly.pHqMgttod i^^ ilMr'
unUelienDg hietJis^Dk, «ad snppoctecthy tlio^fl«llM»-
r^y of ths chief priests a&d eUttS; llje otbev «w
one of th^ best argmnoats he co«ld .olferto. his
conntaymen, aa4ac<mfiiiiialioiiiifthowiMi«tsai|»»
actum, by reiening thein to the upsitive end^lfHse
of witnesses who had seen and ooiiTened wtiA
Jesus after he was risen fioom; the deadf Mtid hf
confronting their testimony with that of acnae ki»«
dreds pf thrir fellow*dtiaMM^ against thefahrioated
tale of the Roman spldi^ns.

St Marky on the olihet hand^ who wiote fait
TVeatise for Gentile Christiam^ who laan mtmar*
gers to the Jewish customs and religion, omits s»*
vend particolars m^aticmed by his yed b oa n s or^
and records o^ers not noticed by him. ■• Thecodh
dition of hb c(mverts» who had not ibeeamo ep«-
p<Hrtumties of informstion us their bsetfarsA m Ja-^
dea, made it necessary for him to n$e such nolea
and comments as might enaiUe themtounderBtaiid-
the subjeet, and to insert those pHtieakrB that
seemed best calculated to ayoueh and eluetdats die
general fact. The same aAay be said ef St I^di^e,
whose relati<;ni differs froui both the pvecedhig
evangelists, but contains such marks of diatinctiflB,=
as are suJBSicient to keep any one fn^m. ooofiEmnd*
ing the incidents he relates^ withtboie alstadyn-
eorded by Ins brethren*

It was by leaving these distincCiflMi out of mn^
that infidels had succeeded in fastemngtKe chnga
of inconsistettcy and contradiction iq»on the aaend
writers; while Christians themaelveB, sedvoad sad
daaszled bv some few points ef reaemUaace^ hsfv
allowed these diff«i«n.% €i£.ta to be die sQaaOf md

GILBEitT WE69, 275

^dbi»giiniKgf6Kt advaatige to the nnbelieveir ; fSnr,
by adaaittrag his prraiises, trnd denyii^ his eoo-
4^MmKf ihi&f hKf% reduced themsebres to tifie di-
lemma of reemidiliiiflr incoiuMteocies ; which they
hame labomed to do by fttles and methods of in-
terpntaCHo, whidi, hmag over-Btraioed a&d Qima^
^mir teaded only to^eeimr their o#n emhanass^
mentu Whereaa, had they rig^ly (UstiDgiiighed
tktt! several eiwiti, all oljectioiis against tms part
of the goHpel hktory woaid hare entirely vanished i
and they woidd have found ^t the evangelists re*
late different) but not inconsistent hcta ; and that
inatead of dailnng and disagreeing, they mutually
confirm, iUmtnie, and flUf^MMrt each other's evi-
denceu .■■-;■

Ift.aDavin§ at these eonqhisions, Mr West has
made user of no far-fetched or arbitrary supposi-
tiona. .Tbay are such as seem clearly to arise out
of Ae aoeomits theaftselves, when diligently consi- ^
-deradand eempared. ^ llieir having now received"
anaaawiTy^ aayshe, -mth Ins diaraeteristic mo-
desty, <^v a idnnr proof that it 1^ always possible
to aDEunrer thon/evea with a very' moderate share
of commeil sense and learning.) The natnre of the
answer itself^ whidi is fimnded upon the usual, ob-
vionsj phda sense of ih» words, without putting any
foftereidier upon the particular expression, or tKe'
genenl eonstnietioft of the several passages, is aa'^
evidence of what I now say : 80 that I nrast needs
admowledge^ that its having been so long missed,
is a mattOT of Heot greater surprise than its having*
been hit- upon now." ^

Una proof 4yf the harmony and mutual illustra-'
tion of fiscts, in the relations of the evangelists, is
followed npby sraie very excellent and judidous

276 CONVERTS FROM INPIDELITY.

reflediona upon the yarioRB incidento in ibe Justarr
of the resnrrection ;' and upon the order in nHfaon
they happened, and in whidi the seYerahproofii ol
the events were laid hefore the apostles. He shews
that the discoveiy of it which was made to thenii
was wisely ordeied to he gradual ; thus making it
manifest) that as Christ required of them a rea-
Bonahle and well-grounded fudi, so did he puraie
the most proper imd effectual means for atteinbig
that end ; and for this purpose, instead of bearing
down their reason, and dazzling their understaad-
ing by a full manifestation of himself all at once^
he let in the light upon them by little and little,
pr^aring their minds by^ the gradual dawning ojf
truth, that they might be able to bear the full
lusti*e of the Sun of Righteousness rising from, the
grave.

In these progressive steps there was the greatest
propriety, since, as they were to be the chosen wit-
nesses of his resurrection to all the world, they
might thus have fall time to connder, and examine^
and satisfy themselves, that it was impossible they
could be deceived. And most assuredly never
^as there evidence more fairly offered to the con-
sideration of mankind; never was any inquiry pnt
upon a more rational method, as indeed thoe
never were any £Act8 that could better abide ike
test. There is a train of witnesses, a aucceami of
miraculous events, mutually strengthttiiiig jnd
confirming each other ; all eqoally and jmnUy eon-
cuning to prove one and the same traasactioa*

As to the doubts and disbelief of some^ men-
tioned by the evangelists, these seem chkfly to
have sprung from the imcertainty whether Chrbt s
bodily appearaac;^ nvw real; and although ihey

GILBERT WBSl^. 29^7

might have believed the report of those who de-
dazed they had seen him, yet, in condescension to y
their infirmity, he removed even these scruples, by j
giving them personal evidence of his reality, /

The proofe of the resurrection laid before ^e
apostles, Mr West has digested under four heads ;
1. The testimony of those that had seen him after
he was risen. 2. The evidence of their own senses.
^ l^e aoeomplishment of the words Christ had ]
spoken to them, while he was yet w ith them. '
4. The fulfilling of the things whicn w^ written
in the law of Moses, and in the Prophets, and in
the Psalms^ concerning him. Of all these he has
given a very compact and judicious summary, and
concludes sfter a long and scrupulous examination
0f liie several particulars, that there never was
any fact more fully proved, than the resurrection
of Jesus Christ; and that those who were appointed
to foe the witnesses of it, had every kind of evi-
dence that, in the like eircifinstances, the most
soiftpruloas could demand, or the most incredulous
imagine.

Having proved that to the apostles at least,. and
first Christians, these arguments must have been
wifflcceptioiiable and irresistible, he then proceeds
to c<m»der some of the proofs that may induce us
who live remote, and at such a distance of time
from die miracle^ to believe that Christ rose from
the dead. These he reduces to two principal
heads, viz. The testimony of the witnesses them-
selves transmitted in their writings *r and the exis-
tence of the Christian religion^ With regard to
^le ibnner, he shews that the apostles and evan-
gelists had the two main qualities necessary to es^
tablsah the credit of a witness, a perfect knowledge

2a

t7B CONVERTS FROM IMriDBLITT.

<»r the iBCfcB they gsv« testniioiiy to» and a
hlemidied dnncter; and dwt Uik testimo]
still p ro e erv ed in die hooks which wero €
penned hy themselves, or authorised hy iha
spectiott and approbation.

He ofiers setarol considentioiiB to pnwi
genninenesB of tSieae writings ; and takto n
hoth of the internal maiks of Teraeity in thesi
writers, observable in the S crip tur e s, and oJ
-external proofii of their authenticity and iu
tion, espedally tiie exact aoeomplishnieiit ol
pnmheciee recorded in these Senptnres. Hi
peels to the impossibiHty of any books, ferg«
the'names of the apostles, escaping detection ;
to their integrity in stating the times, the seei
action, the actors, and the witnesses of most o
fiicts mentioned by them ; and above all, to
they tell iis about the low conation, the ini
ties, the sufferings, and the death of the great
thor and Fimsher of their faith.

With regard to the prophetical evidences, I
stances those relating to the different state of <
and Gentiles ; different not only from each o
but from that in which they both were at the
when those prophecies were written. He ren
that there are several particulars relating tc
condition of the Jewish nation, whidi were
expressly foretold ; as the destruction of the
and temple of Jerusalem, and the signs prec(
that destruction ; the miseries of the Jews be
at, and ai%er the famous siege of that city ; th
neral dispersion of that people, the dnratic
their calamity, and their wonderful preserv
under it; and finally, thiBir restoration; w
sinco the other parts of these predictions lutve

OILBEBT WEST. S79

eiciuctly acGomplkliedy there is every reason to])
tbink will be so too in the proper season. 7

The learned and elaborate reriew of this mini*
adons event Mr West concludes^ with the aiiga-
ment drawn from the present existence of the
Christian religion* He shews that without snp*-
postng the truth of Christ's resurrection, there is
po accounting for the propagation and present ex*
jat^noe of Christianity, in so many regions of the
svorld. To set this in a proper light, he represents
ia an elegant and striking numner, the great diffi-
culties this religion had to struggle with, at its first
appearance ; and the inabilities of its first preachers,
Anunanly q>eaking, to oppose and overcome those
-pbstades. They had the superstition and preju-
dices of the Jews to encounter ; who, divided as
$liey were into different sects, jealous and intole*
iWt of each other, yeit^ all^ agreed with the same^
iwcour to stop the prcMpress of Christianity. j

In the heathen worh^ the impediments were not
lass formidable. They had to e<mtend against the
religioas, customs, laws, interests^ vices, pride, po^
lacff and ]^iilo6ophy of the different natmns, among
whom they, attempted to plant the gospeL And
jprhile its heralds were wrak, artless, illiterate, and
contemptible, its c^posers were possessed of all ^ ,
the wisdom, power, and authority of the world. .' '
The amlHtions, the luxurious and debauched, the
iniser, the extortioner, the unjust, the oppressor,
l)ie psoud and revengeful, the fraudulent and rapa-
cious^ were all its leagued and sw(Hrn adversaries.

According to the natural coarse of human af-
baiBf it was not difficult to pronounce which of
dbe two parties shoiild have prevailed; the one
being animated by a combmation of interests and

S86 CONVERTS VROM DTS^d^ELITT.

passions, and armed with all the power and engines
of tyrannical authority ; the other repressed by all
kinds of civil discouragements, by the prospect of
chains and torments, and the terrors of martyrdom';
Yet Christianity triumphed over this opposition^
and made its way in spite of these difficulties ; and
at lengdi prevailed so far as to change the whole
face of ihiBgs. It overturned the temples and altars
of the gods, stleneed the oracles, faonibled the in^
pious pride of emperors, confounded the presumip^
tuons wisdom^ philosophers, and introduced new
principles and improved habits, into the greiitest
part of the known world. . ■

This stupendous and astonishing revidbttoiii, it is
evident, could not have been brought /about by
mere human means ; though all the aecoa^>tidh*
ments of learning, all the insinuating and pemHafiiiftt
arts of eloquence, joined to the pfG^otmdestknow^
ledge of human nature, and long experience in ib^
ways of the world, had all met in the apostles*
That this could neviar have been effected but by
the interposition of Divine power, must be obvious :
and a manifest demonstration of the truth of die
extraordinary facts by which it was accomplisbed,
the principal of which is the Resurrection of Gbrist
from the dead.

The infidel who grounds hiftrejeeticm of the gos-
pel on the incredible and miraculous nature of this
event, will here find that his main argument will
be of no service to him, since his faith will still ea*
counter a miracle in its way, in the amazing birtbi
growth, and increase of the Christian religion, —
facts wliich he cannot deny, however unaccounU
able they may appear to him.

€«A]ILS8 OILlK>lf fiBI

CHARLES GBLDON.

Charles Gildoh^ aa SBthor of wotoe gauat nd
nC TariouB literalure, has ebtsaed comidcrBble B(fr-
iMriety among tho wrilen tffao BamUAied aboul
4he beginning of the kst eentory. The only pnrt
of bis cbeqnered life tbat can here give any iB^
teregt or. importance to bis bi8toiy> is llie dreams
atanco of bis being a reclaimed Deist, one who
alter ^tangling Idow^lf in the labyrinth of infide*
lity, denying &e fandam^ital principles of reli*
ffion, and writing panegyrica on suicide ; came at
kat to be conyinced oi his errors, and made a
public recantation of ibem, by yindicating the
great doctrines of Natval Theology, whieL the
patty he had abandoned, eith» denied, or repre-
sented as doubtful, and nnsupported by proper
•▼idence. His testimony, therefore, well deserrea
to be recorded, as being giren after deUbeiate eo»*
riction, and with a perfect knowledge of the op-
XOB»€fm tenets he nndertook to refnte^

' Mr GiLQON was b<mi, in 1666, at Gillinghamy
aasr SSbaftesbary, in Dorsetshire. His parents
and fEumily were Roman Cathdy^s, and conse*
foOntly endeavonred to instil the same principles
Into their son. His fathw was a member of tha
Society of Gray's Inn ; and a man of considerate
property, which was greatly reduced during tha

2a2

883 CONVERTS FROM INFIBELITY.

pcrliamenttty wan> by his adherenee to the f
cause. Mr Gildon received ^ first rudim
of his education in his native place, bnt as he
designed for the priesthood, he was sent, at tw
years of age, to the English College at Dow
Flanders, where the yonthfol disciples of the pi
tical church, were nurtured in die infallible fi
under the superintendence of the Jesuits. B
appears the ghostly efforts of these zealous hi
proved here unsuccessful ; for during a -pviogre
five years' study, Mr Gildon could notiie broiigl
embrace the monstrous absurdities <of the Cat!
creed; and only found his inclinatioDL more stro
eonfiimed for a quite different course of life.-

After quitting the tuition of the secular^ pri
he return^ to l£[^iand ; and as soon as he ean
age, he entered into possession of- his patemal
tune, which, though not opulent, was respect)
and rendered him capable of enjoying the g«i<
and pleasures of fiashionable life. Helmmedis
repaired to London, as the place most likel;
afibrd him happiness, adequate to the means ^
which he was furnished. But as men of ge
and vivacity are too often deficient in tlie ar
of economy, his expenditure proved too mud
his income, and in a short time, he spent the
part of his inheritance. To crown his imprude
he manied about the age of twenty-three, a yc
lady without any foitune; adding to his othei
cumbrances, that of a gi'owing family,' and no {
pect of improving his exhausted finances.

During the reign of James II., when reli
became a matter of state policy, and was agit
with great keenness, Mr Gildon studied the
troveited points of theology. He never had g

CHatRLES GILDONJ 2S5

credit to file tenets of the Romish Church, and
^<Mrald not admit the ridiculous doctrine of in&lli-
-l»lity ; yet as he had been taught an eai'ly reve-
rence for the priesthood, andasnlmiiBsiye obedience
-to their authority, it was long before he could mus-
hier courage to think freely for himself, or declare
lionestly what he thought. In some of his writ-
ings'iie mentions, that it cost him above seven
years' study, before he could^overcome the'prejn-
^Kces of his educa^n. This emancipation, iiow-
ever, he at length effected ; and, as a transition
^vm the extreme of bigotry to that of scepticism,
^ a circumstance neither uncommon nor surpris-
ing, in liberating himself from the dominion of su-
perstitaon, Mr Gildon shook off the reverence and
belief of all religion, and ended his researches in
becoming a confirmed infidel.

The first proofs he gave to the woriid of his at-
tachment to infidelity was by publishing a book
with a very plausible title, <^led the '' Oracles of
Reason,*' written chiefly by his friend Mr Charles
Blomit; the avowed purpose of which, was-to pro-
mote the cause of Deism. Blount was a zealous
adviocate of unbelief, and ' had previously distin-
guishied himself in the cfontroversy. In 1680, he
miblished a translation of the two first books of
Fyiofitratus's Life of Apollonins Tyanseus, with
large notes ; which were manifestly intended to
invalidate the proofs of revelation. Apollonins
was a Pythagorean philofiopher, who lived in the'
first century, and whose character and miracles
were opposed by the Pagans to those of Jesus Christ.
The accoimt of him, by Philostratus, and of the
signs and wonders he pretended to have wrought,
are little dise than absurd and romantic fables^ ^et

i

V84 CONVBRTS FROM IKFIBKLITT.

off wi|h iliMorictl fleuriekeS) and » vmia osic
df learaing. The endence for the wuxm
.corded hy the enmgeliBts is so mfiiitely si
M not to deserve a co mp a ri son ; ahhongh
have flattered thonselTes, that, hy mnniBg i
rall^ they struck a mmtal bloir at one of t
damental |iroo& of Christianity. Bhrant ps
another dektical hook, entitled, ** Rehno
. which is litde nMM« thn a traaslatkni of IxM
bert*8 TVeatise of the same name, witkafew
additions and imjHroTMnents.

The Oracles of Reason, which is merely a
.tion of different pieces, consisting chiefly ol
between the author and his friends, intermix
fri^mentsand translations from the classics
not live to pnUish ; having shortened his <
his own hand, in order to free himself from
easiness of a passion which proved too viol
him. His friend Mr Gildon nshered this ]
mons volume into the world, with a commei
prefiice in vindication of self-nnirder. Part
work is designed to prove the reasonableni
sufficiency of natural religion, as opposed to
tion ; but the arguments are founded altogethi
a misi^preh^siim of the scheme of mediat]
covered in the gospel, which, instead of den
frt)m the goodness and wisdom of God, is
the most signal instances of his gracious int
towards the human race, — a kind and wii
vision for exercinng his mercy towards guill
tnres, in sin;h a way as is most beeomii^ h
glorious government and perfections, most
to remove the jealousies and fears of oflfende
most conducive to tbdu' peace and comfort,
parts of these pretended ^ Qiacleis" adopt t

Bi<m of the origin of good and evil, from two dif-
fm^nty eternal, and independent principles.

As to the article of future rewards and punish-
ments, and the soul'simmortality, though they are
admitted as necessary parts of natoral religi<m, yet
it is stated aa a pobabilityrthat the soul oi man is
iiot of an ettdrely distinct nature from the body, hut
only ^ pur6r mata^ial composition ;- an opinion
qpii^ inoohsistent with the doctrine of its immer*
tality. latere are^ besides, many objections levelled
against the sacred Scriptures, particularly against
ihe writiBgs^^ Moses, with a design to subvert his
iratliority.' Most ^f the^urguments offered on this
pcHa^ are Arrowed from aniaent authors, several
pages* together being literally translated, without
^le Jeast acdcnowledgment, or any notice taken of
the aotowerS which have been repeatedly returned*
The exceptions which have frequently been taken
at die Mosaic writings, from the irreconcileableness
of the accounts there given, with the antiquities
f^«tended to by-^the most learned heathen jiations^
particularly the Chaldeans and Egyptians; and
which have been-'so clearly shewn to be unfounded,
by the ..laborious Stillingfleet, in his <^ Origines
Saerae,'' are here again advanced with as much
confidence and e&nmtery as if they had % never

heen r efuted, -"^' ^

*" XhesepHndples, which MrGildon had espoused
and recommended to the world in strains of pom-
pous eulogy, and with the Imrmag zeal of a de-
voted proselyte, he afterwards, upon more delibe-
rate consideration, publicly retracted. Meantime,
ba;ring.di8sipated.his patrimony by thoughtlessness
and extravagance^ he found it necessary to have re^
course to some method for retrieving his forti^i^

V

S66 C0KVEBT8 VBOM IMVIMKUTT.

or x«lWfor the metMof flnbtkleiifie. Ne
the grand incentive of anthor8hi|»^ waa» as
self camMy adcBowkdges in hM Eaaay^
indncwnant for Tcntorisg toappew in prin
•uocaii in this way^ howeyer» was but iad
Hm ptodnctions y^ned bi« lilile repatatl
it appean» nefor raised Urn ahove the com
indigenoe ; a drcamstance with which he
ten upbraided hy his literary antagoidrts, w]
his distresses a handle for their wit, ami
him with rsnconr rather than rqupoof. I
attonpi was as a dramatic writer^ in a Rw
ha pijylisbed in 1697, called the <" Romaa
Rerengeb** This dEonrt gained him liftUe e
pro&t or pepukrity. The drama waa not:
liest road to fiune or fortune ; and poeta
finfeHSBle abiKty and diligence, found it m\
with all thdr hiduatry, to set penuiy at -i
Bendes, Dryden and Darenant, wim thei
and admiTRrsyhad long kept possession of th
and their theatrical r^ntation waa then st
zenith.

The obscure reception of his first peorfb
did Bothoweyer discoorage him, snd next
produced his ^< Phaeton, or the Fatal E
This was followed by- several others- in cc
two or three years, viz. ^ Measure for IS
«r Beauty the best Advocate ;'' ^LovesVi
the Queen of Wales;" ""The IHoriot, or th
Coni^irscy." These {neces, though all un
fnl, were by no means destitute of merit ;
too strong an emulation of the style of
whom he was a great admirer, but with<
sessing the brilliancy of poetic imaginatioi
fre^eatly atones for the mad flig& of t

tiMBti^ Writer, Ids veraeb run mto % perpetual straia

'^ A& GiMim cultiTated <rtfaer departm^atB of the
Belles Lettres, beridM the druna. Hev^^oteEs-
m^lAM^my Poems, Ac an EngMrii Gfammar, m
life of Bettertoo, and The Complete Art of Poe^
tryv— «n art which he had practised so nnsaooess*
lUly fannael^ He was aattkor of BevenA pieces on
Gr^ciam, wUdi he afieeted abore all things, and
ferwhidi he certainly possessed considerable ta-
IfMs. The work upon which he valaed himself
most, and seemed to build his ohi^hopes of repu-
tation, was his Critical Commentary on the Laws
iti Poe^, iBM laid down by the Duke of Bucking-
liam, m his Essay on Poetry ; by &e £arl of Ros-
oommon, inhis Essay on Translated Verse ; and
lyy Loid Landsdown, On Unnatural Flights in Poe-
tgff DhiBteBted and Explained. This work was
w^ teceived, nnd hi^y applauded by the ablest
j«d|^

T1ioa§^ not a man of first-rate gemus Tiimself, he
^Kras ra^er a severe critic on the writings of others ;
jBid is well known as one of the revilers of Pope,
^aapeeiaUy for the freedom he took in his animad-
^F«t^aa» oa the Rape oi the Lods, in a work of
Jbb, entitled 1^ ^ New Rehearsal, or Bayes the
Ytfunger." He had made repeated attacks on the
eharacter and writings oi that great poet, which
aoiyng could have provoked, but me heat of
^party zeal'; xaUing him a poetaster, — a pretender
to wit and poetry,— « cceature that reconciled aH
4M>nteadictaons, &c. ^ Certain k is,'' ^sajs he) *' his
original is not from Adam, but the devil ; and that
he wanted nothing but horns and a tail, to be the
48Bact peBeniblant;^ of im infernal ancestor.*' TLa

288 CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY.

severity of these abusire reflections drew -i
upon him the just resentment of ithe ini]
poet, who was never remarkable for any greal
diness to forgive injuries. In the Prologue U
Satires, he has complimented him with a aaic
couplet, in allusion to his povai;y, and makii
subsistence by authorship.

Yet tben did Gildon draw his venal quill;
I- wished the man a dinner, and iate stilJ.

He has likewise thought proper to immorti
his name, together with that of the snarling I
nis, in his poem of the Dunciad.

Ah Dennis ! Gildon ah ! what ill-starred rage
Divides a friendship long confirmed by age ?'
Blockheads with reason, vdcked wits abhor.
But fool with fool is barbarous civil: war, Ibc*

From his thirty-second year, when he e
menced' wilting for the stage, Mr Gildon seem
Lave been chiefly engaged in the bustle and fern
of literary controversy, the importance of which
Jong since departed, and sunk with the heroes of
Dunciad, into comparative oblivion. He died
tlie 12th of Jamiary, 1724, at the age of fi
eight. Boyer, in his " Political State, * vol. n
mentions him as ^' a person of great literature,
mean genius, who attempted several kinds of m
ing, but never gained much reputation in any.'

The most interesting and remarkable of his wa
is that \diich contains the recantation of his dei
eal opinions, published in 1705, imder the titk
the Deist's mamud ; intended as a plain x
compendious defence of religion on the princif
of reason. The motives for changing his creed
well as fot composing his Manual, he has statec
liis dedicaXiou «A<i\iEefl&«^ \a tke Archbishop

CHARLES eiLDON. S88

Cmteclmty* << The erron I had too hastily en*
Mrtainedy when I began to find them out, made
flfe examine into the reason of Uieir prevaiUAg so
far in the world ; which, bedides their flattery oi
ihe passions, and corporeal impressioiis, I found to
ptOMd from the difficulty of the conyictioni
which was the defect of the method of the defen-
ders of ike Christian religion ; at least of those^
whom I had the fortune to meet with, who ap-
^colij to arguments which required more learning
and api^cation, than most of the persons affected
with the evil were masters of, or could bestow.-**
I therefore considered that what was necessary to
the good and happiness of tnenkind, must be at*
tainable with more ease ; aikl concluded that God
had giYCA us certain means of arriving at the know-
ledge of wbsA he required us to believe. The only
way to find Uiis out, I concluded, must be reason.
Tim metiiod hating ln*ought me to a possession of
the truth, I began to reflect that it might be as
aenriceable to others, who had wandered like my-
self after a fidse i^isjhtmts; and this was the mo-
flte of my publii^ing this rohtme.''

JEn attaining to these convictions Mr Gildon ac-
knowledges himself indebted to an excellent little
treatise ob the subject, Leslie's Short Method with
die Deists, wherein the brevity of the alignments
is amply compensated by then* force and perspi-
cuity.' This Tract was published in 1697, and
has proved useful, not only in establishing the
tentf of the Christian religion against the assaults
OfinndeU, but in reclaiming some of the most
zealous and able advocates of unbelief. The au-
thor of the Manual, it appears, was acquainted
with Ledie and profited by his convenwdoii ;

VOL. J, 2 b

290 CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY.

aad on reading this Short Method,* his Ondm jbo-
came dumb for ever, .and himself a conyert to the
truth of Divine revelation. To communicate to
others the remedy which had benefited himself,
seemed the best atonement he could make /or his
folly and impiety, in opposing Christianity ; the
most certain evidence of the sincerity of his con-
version, and his unfeigned r^;ard for the interest
of religion ; as well as a proof of the compassian
he entertained for those wno had been his deistical
associates, or who were in danger of being misled
by the same delusions.

AccorcUngly, the author, after devodng.a piefs^
to the recitation of the arguments he had formerly
ailvanced in defence of smcide, some of which he
owned were so absurd, that he felt ashamed at
having urged them, proceeds in a seriea of dis-
courses, by way of disJogue, to vindicate the great
principles of Natural Tlieology, preparatory to a
rational inquiry into the Christiaa religion. The

* There is appended to the Manual a letter from Lesr
lie to the author, giving a favourable opinion and review
of the work, which, it appears, he had examined before
it was published. <* Sir, I have read over your papers
with great satisfaction ; and I heartily bless God, with
you, and for you ; that he has had mercy upon you, and
opened your eyes, to see the wonderous things of his law,
to convince you of those irrefragable proofs he has af-
forded for the truth and authority of the Holy Scriptures, ) i
such as no other writing upon earth can pretesid tswj
and which are incompatible with any forgery or decejtk.
Ueiias given you likewise that true spirit oi repentance
to bring forth the fruits thereof; that is, to make what
satisfactipn you can for the injuries you have done to re-
ligion, by answering what has been published formeriy
by yourself against it ; an^ being converted, you endea-
vour to stien(|U\eu >fouT \ff«x\ix«cu"

CHARLES GILDON. 1^1

'Hesson of this iviis, as he himself intimates, that
iniany of the Deists, wi^ whom he was well* ae-
- qnainted, either dovbted or denied these prelimi-
nary^ doctnhes, which are essential to all religion ;
And from these objections chiefly arose their en-
mity and aversion to the Christian revelation^

Of the arguments for the existence of a Deity,
lie has ^ven a summary in his first discourse ; be-
cause he had found that some of the abettors of in-
fidelity expuiiged this fundamental article from
'^ir creed, if not expressly, at least in effect, as
they divested it by their speculations of any prac-
tical influence. The proofs of an intelligent first
Cause he mainly insists upon,- are those derived
-from the works of creation, which he shews,
eould not have existed from eternity, nor have
been produced by chance, — from the stupendous
wonders of the planetary system, which exhibit so
many shining demonstrations of Infinite Power, —
irom the immense variety of animated beings, — ^the
oi^anization of animalbodies,— ^the curious mecha-
nism of the human frame, and ^e no less asto^
jushing phenomena of the human mind*

The attributes of God, both physical and moral,
isre next brought under review, and shewn to be es-
sential to his character, and a necessary consequence
of his nature. The doctrine of Providence, and of
the Divine agency in human affairs, is ingeniously
deflended against die atheistical assertions of Hobbs,
and Spinosa, who reduce aU our knowledge of the
Deity to the mere fact of his existence ; and leave
man to invent for himself laws and regulations for
his moral government. The objections and appa-
rent ineonsistencies, arising from the disorders and
irl'egularities in human afairs, the inisfortanfi^ <^^

292 CONVmiTS VROM INFIDELITY.

the good, and the mcoew of the h«d, are explained
and juadfied, and shewn to he conducive to' iSbt
harmony and advantage of the whole. The mri-
tual nature of the human aoiily and ita immbrtiCty,
are idso Tindicated* in express oppomtton to ime
opinions on this subject delirered in the Oradei
of Reason.

and reasonaUeness of the Christian religion ;
proofs of which he had endeavoured to render moie
easy and obyious> fay expelling diose donhts and
preindices which oonsdliited an insapemble hanier
to Its reception. In opposition to the atatenaetilB
formorly pnblished under his aancddn, whidi de-
mdedy and confounded the miracles of liie Kew
Testament with iJie absurd, and legendary wqo-
deiiB ascribed to heathen iimMetors, he makes it ap-
pear that the miracles of Christ and his 'apostiies
nad all the indubitable marks of veracity ; that
they were beyond the power and operation of na-
tural causes, and must have been the immediate
effect of Divine agency. The truth of these being
sufficiently weU attested, laid a solid foundation for
the doctrines of Christianity, which contained also
in thems^ves unequivocal marks of a supernatural
origin ; so that the one furnished a test and a con*
firmation of the other. An additional dem<mstratioa
of their truth, he remaiks, was afibrded in the evi-
dence of prophecy, which was a kind of perpetual
miracle ; and as the incredulity of the Jews was
rendered inexcusable, by the mighty works per-
formed before their eyes, so the completion of pre-
dictions which required the fulness of time toaccom*
plish, and could not be regarded as inftllihle prood
during the Sav\ow*%He««aNfiS^«k\hAextnMiraqflP7

CHARLES GIIdOK^ 293

propagiation of the gospel, fhtnished a succession of
Kindred testimonies to all generations, which must
make their rejection and unbelief equally criminal.
« The Holy Bible," (he concludes) « as it is the
most ancient and most authentic of all books, so
it is the only book that gives us the idea of true
religion, — Christianity is the only religion that pos-
sesses all the marks of verity. It answers all the
peeessities of human nature, prescribes remedies
for its misfortunes and fhdlties, and proposes to its
observation happiness here and hereafter. Its pre-
c^ts are plain, and founded on justice and rea-
son, on ^ nature of God and the condition oS
tiaan ; and they relate either to this world or the
next. Every one is capable of understanding
them ; and cannot plead ignorance if he transgress
them. Thus the whole Christian duty being so
very obvious and easy, the man who forsakes it
has no plea against punishment for breaking those
laws, which ought to be the security, as they are
die happiness, of human society."

2b2

t94 CONVERTS FROM IKFIOSLITY.

^

REV. RICHARD CECIL.

Tn life of Mr Cecil aibidft a tethtr proof
unbelief is not the aSbpimg of leewoffiiiig, -or
and nnpfcgndiced diacimoii ; Im^ flfnonge z
from inattention to religion, and a moial depi
<tf heart, which is impatient of restnintand-a
dination to its n^; and that if.mett were U
come yirtaons, and inqnire seriooaly into the
of Chrisdanity, they would find ahundanteyii
of its divine oiiginaL ^ Mr Cecil became an
convert to UcentioiianeBSy notwitlurtaQding iIm
parental example and instruction ; and to ea
ma wickedness, he took shelter behind infid
But no sooner had he begun to feel the Httl
and unsatisfying nature of worldly pleasures,
his prejudices declined, and he not only beca
proselyte to the faith of the cross, but one <
most devoted and intrepid advocates.

Richard Cecil wafr*bom in London, 8tfa
yember, 1748. His fether and grand-fEUher
Scarlet Dyers to the East India Company,
mother was the only child of Mr Grovesn
merchant in London, and brother to the Rei
Grovesnor, author of the " Mourner." Th
her husband was a member of the Establ
Church, she was herself a Dissenter ; and n<
eminent for her piety and benevolence, than fc

R£V. BICHAR0 CICIL. 995

Aomosdc Tirtiies. As soon as her son wtm capable
!of iofltrnetkniy the took delight to rear his tender
juind, and to impress H with religions principles.
At six years of age, she bought him Janeway s
Tdcen for Children, Watts' HyxttnBj and other
books calculated to arpset llie attentioii of chiidren«
At that early period, she judged correctly that ar*
guments addressed to the heart, were likely to be
IBiMte forcible and ef^BCtiial than those iaddressed to
IliB head^ and that simple stories adapted to their
em^diensian, will often make way for abstract and
disagreeable truths. The benefits he dented from
tlioso l^le presents he always remembored, and
apoke of with gratitude : *^ When I was a dbild,*^
•ays he^ ^ and a yery wicked one too, one of Dr
Walts' Hymns sent me to weep in a comer. ' The
Lrres in Janewa/s Token haid the same effect;
TfcAt the influ^ice of faith in suffering Christians*
The character of young Samuel came home to me>
Jffaen liothing else had any hold of my mind."
. As Mr Cecil's father was in easy circumstances^
and a man of considerable literory attainments, h6
bestowed upon his son a yery liberal education,
Iboug^ he only intended him for a profession sin»»
lar to his own. As soon as his a^ permitted, he
was placed in a considerable house in the dty,
£rom which he was soon remoyed to another, where
he remained tall bad health compelled him to re*
^tee to his Other's roof. As he was dlWays arene
to the business in which he had been engaged, he
did not resume it when he had recorered from his
iDness; he was more devoted to the study (tfliterap
fwiikilid the fine arts; and instead of the ^p and the
eeimlin|^houBe> his mind was in the continual pm>
sob of ol^ects mon eonganiai to \\a i»3&7%*^^ks^««c^
and prepossessionB*

206 CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY.

At this early age, he discovered a wondep'
M grasp of intellect and versatility of talent^
whidb wonld have gained him distinction in what^
ever avocation he had embarked. To the arti
he was particularly addicted, especially to poetry
and painting, and even then, the productions of
his muse, and of his pencil, were-honoured with
the public approbation. Several of his fugitive
and poetical effusions^were inserted anonymooaly^
in the periodical publications of the day. This
talent however, it appears^ he cultivated un^*
known to his father ; who happening, accidentally}
to meet with some verses which he greatly admired^
was astonished to find his son affirm himself to
be the author. This he looked upon as incredible :
but to convince him, the youthful poet retired witK
a subject of his choosing, and in a short time pro*,
dttced a piece which satisfied him of- the fact in
question.

Painting, however, was the art which he pur-
sued with insatiable ardour. He not only piac-
tised at home, but frequented all picture<«ale8
throughout the metropolis ; and even unknown to
his parents, he travelled into France, to see Ute
works of the most eminent masters of the art;
and his enthusiasm would have carried him to
Rome, had he not been exhausted of the means
of travelling. He had also a strong passion for
music, which continued with him through life^
At first, his taste was for Italian music ; bat in
his latter years, he became partial to the German
style, or rather the softer Moravian.

Upon his return from the continent, his fiither,
findmg his TuUn^i^aBa\o\\\mab8led, resolved to send
liim to an acc(aamt«ivcQ m^o\si<&>\AVS^!Qp« ^^i^eo^

RSV. RICHARi) CECIL. 297

fes^km of an artist ; bat he was prevented by aome
nniectorded cvcmnstance from accompliahing this
iteaign; Mr Cedl was destined however, by pro-
ridcmee, to a more important work in his native
tand ; and to direct the innate ardonr and eneigy
of faismiind to a worthier subject, in promoting the
(Cause of pure and evangelical religion.

In the meantime, he remained under his fiathor'a
roof, in the ardent ponnit of his ^vourite studies ;
but unfortunately, whilst advancing in hk intellectual
career, he was contracting principles and habits,
wfakh exhibit his character in a more unpromising
point of view. The religious impressions of his
childhood by degrees wore away, and he launched
with heedless steps, into all the vices and extnr
vagances which are incident to youth ; and as he
Ibmid it impossible to reconcile immorality with
the pure precepts of that religion in which he had
been educated, — as Christianity stood so much m \
^ way which he felt inclined to pursue, he listened I
to the seductive reascMiingB of infidelity, tilt hd y
opeidy avowed himself an unbeliever. ^

To confirm himself in his new creed, and get
quit of his old scruples, he read the works of seep*
tical authors ; though, as he afterwards confessed
he was often astonidbed at the poverty of their rea-

^ soning; and felt that his own perverted imaginft-
tion could suggest arguments against reveladooy
more weighty than he ev^ found in the most
l98rned and acute infidel writers. In these ddustcmi

^oe proceeded the greater length, as the natural
darmg of his mind allowed him to do nothing by
halves. Into whatever society he enrolled him*
adf, he asphred to become its leader. Nor was
be satisfied iriA thns framing and inventing ttx.*

898 CONVERTS PROM INFlOBLlTY.

eases for his own guilty conduet; he minted 4ifA^
self as the apostle of Infidelity, and laboured with
all the natural boldness of his mind, to banish-ttfo
salutary- scruples of his more caiftious compameni^
and to gun conrerts to his libertine opinknm
With many he succeeded to the full he^ht of hk
wishes, who, in after life, ridiculed Ins earnest and
affectionate endeaTOurs to- reclaim them, and to
undo that fabric of delusion which he now staro^
so zealously to rear.

But though Mr Cecil openly professed himself
an unbeliever, and laboured to disseminate his prin-
ciples, it appears that he was never altogether sin-
cere in his infidelity. He confessed that he could
not wholly direst himself of his early religious im*
pressions ; that some remains of mat^rnid adtices stiM
adhered to hisreeollection^hywhieh be was pfeserf«d
from becoming, at heart, ^t unprincipled scoffiet
which he professed to be before the world. Nor
would conscience, that inward monitor, suffer him^
by her rebukes and remonstrances, to place tm^
plicit confidence in those principles which his per*
verse inclinations had framed. In vain did he at^
tempt to shut his ear against her still snoall roicei
or ^ake off entirely the yoke of her authority.

Of the salutary effects of that care and anxiety
with which his childhood had been trained, he
frequently spoke in very impressive terms. ^ Where

rtarental influence does not convert,'* says he> ^ it
ampers. It hangs on the wheels of evil. I had
a pious mother, who dropped things in my wayi
f could never rid myself of them. I ivas a pro^
Tfessed infidel ; but then I liked to be an infidel id
^ company, rather than when alone. I was wretched
wheQ by myae\f« TVuMift ^fosss^Vaa^ and' iiiaarina%

asv. RICHARD CEeiL^ 299

.jtnPd jdata i^iled my jollity. With my eompa^
vions I could aometimes stifle them:: like embers
jure, kept one another wamu Besides, I was h^re
^ sort <^ liero. I had beguiled several of my as-
/sociates into my own opinions, and I had to main?
.tain a charact^ before them. But I could not
iUvest myself of my better principles. Parental
. kifluwce thus cleaves to a man ; it harasses him ;
it throws itself continually in his way.'*

Of the arts and evasions he employed to ward
joff Uie im{H:e88ions of conscience and convic-
tions, -he has given us the following instances.
V When I was sunk in the depths of infidelity, I
jHras ateid to read any author who treated Chrifh
(tianity in a dispassionate, wise, and searching man-
ner. He made me uneasy. Conscience woidd
gather strength. I foimd it more difficult to sti^e
heac remonstrances. He would recal early instrue-
tiQOB and impressions, while my happiness cxmld
only (Consist with their obliteration." << My father,"
(snya he pn another occasion), << had a religious
9&cvaxkt. I frequently cursed and reviled him.
He would ouly smile on me. — That went to my
heart. I felt that he looked on me as a deluded
creature ; I felt lliat he thought he had something
which I knew not how to value, and that he was
therefore greatly my superior. I felt there was ]|
real dignity in his conduct. It made me appear
little in. my own eyes. If he had condescended
to JKTgue with me, I would have cut some figure ;
at leas<Lby comparison, wretched as it would have
been. He drew me once to hear Mr Whitfield, when
I was seventeen or eighteen years old. It had no
^ort of religious effect upon me, nor had the preach-
i^ of any man, in my unconveited state."

SCO COMVlllYS WU0U IKCI0SLITT.

In iueit a i«Bte of nifaid Mr CmU ttiitvd st Ini
twentieth reut^ when it pkiiMd God to ptvpim
him for a mil aaid hearty reoeptkm of tfao doctrines
of Christianity^ Haying gone all the ravadi of a
licentious life^ and tasted ererypleasnrewhicktiii
trorld can afford^ he found that tiiey coold not cofr'
fer anticipated happiness ; and he tlnis began to
feel the meanness, ai^ degrading natnte of eroy
object wiiich engages the attention d fieioai
men. In this manner was the wandering prodigal
bnnigfat to himself, more from a sense (tf boa wanls
and his wretchecb&ess, than any relish or right
apprehension he had yet aoqidred ^ higher ob-
jects, and pnrer pleasures. His mhid <^aied gra-
dually to the truth of the gospel ; and tiie proeeai
through which he was led, is a strikiag Ofideneo
of tile imminence of hia past dmog!&tm ^ My
feelings," (said he), <' when I was first beginnkig
to recorer from infidelity, proved that I had been
suffered to go great lengtiis ; and in a ray awftd
degree to believe my own lie. Mymind rsfvohed
from Christianiiy. Qod did not btxag me to Mm*
Self by any of tiie peculiar motives of tiie gOepel
1 became utterly sick of tiie vamty, and disffl is te d
with the folly of the world, but I had no tibought
of Jesus Christ, or of redemption. I eoald not
enduro a system so degrading. I tiionght then
Inight possibly be a Supreme Being, and if thetft
tvas such a Being, he might hear me when I
prayed. To woreMp the Supreme Bdng aeemed
somewhat digmfied. There was sometblqg gnysd
and elevating in the idea. But tiie whole acheia
and plan of redemption appeared mean, and da»
fffading, and ^honomsble to mem The New
Testament) in Vte wp^aaawpaia tsAyartkutiom^ !»•

M(ir« ftlOHAllD OB(tt£« Ml

pH^ iMI iUd MMnftd io^oaiible 16 bcibdlierred,
•i a leHgbfl miitable to rsticmal bein^**

Ttie sensntioiis which thUB began in disgost with
the plMMBtSB iind tanitks of the world, made Way
£ar tother commwiicatiojlis of dirine grace* Uto
WM led to consider where tme hi^pines% and Mh
^llfyiBg pleasntes were to be found, since he had
floi^t them in yain from sensual gratificatioiia
ttd too'estrained indulgences. And in this inqtdry
he leh tiie adnmtages of his connection with sio-
eere and plots Cbistiansw — ^He saw that whilst
ibi6f were devoted to religion, thdy were also
iii^nyi *^ tt WES one of tb^ fiiBt tUngs,^ (says he)
"^ wUeh struck my mind in a profligate state, tlu^
bi ipfte of all the folly, and hypocrisy, and fanati^^
Dlani^ which may be seen am<Hig religious profea^

(«eir% there was a mind aftar Cbist, a holiness, a
beav^nliiiesB, among ted^ Chtislians. My first
ooflVictioiis on the sul^ect ^oTreligion, were con'*
tened from obsetring that really religious persona
bad 80me sdid happiness amcmg them ; which I
Mt that the vanities of ike world could not give.**
Tile tituation a{ his pious mother while unde^
Ifflk^on, happaiing to become the subject Gi hia
ttitloniplatioiis, his thoughts began to ponder <m
ik» aottree of her turpnsing tranquillity and con-
letitment of mind ; and hei saw before him two in^
^etti^ittidble facts ; Jirsi^ that though his mother'a
life Waa diequonMl with many ills and distresses^
lie lANierted her cheerfully bear up under them, by
means of the consolation and support which she
€^v>6d, from constantly reUring to her closet an^
lierBiMe. i9anifu%. That she had a secret source
UK eohifort tb whi<£ he was a total strange* ; and
wfaidi he who gare an unbounded loose to hka^

2c

302 CONVBRTS FROM INFIDBLITT.

petitei, and sought pleasure by ermry means, -fsl-
dom or neyer could find. ** I^ howeyery-" ^|ie
concluded) << there be any such secret in religion,
why may not I attain it as well as my mother ? I
will immediately seek it of God." Upon this :|w

C started from his sleepless bed, and began to invoii»
by prayer the searcher of hearts, whose name i^
many years had never been r ey^en tly in his lips.
Being made sensible that a life of qommnnioa
with God, in conformity to the Bible, could oidy
secure him that happiness which was satisfying to
his rational nature, but which had as yet eluded
his grasp, he now as sincerely wished Christianity
.to be tine, as he had formerly hoped it to be a
cunningly devised fable. He began to listen again
to the voice of parental instruction, to attend the
.preaching of the word, to consult those able di-
vines who had written upon the evidences of
Christianity, that his doubts might be removed;
jand they gitidually gave way before the irrenf-
tible influence of (tivine truth. ^* Grotius, Bishop
Butler, ai>d many others,*' says he, '^ helped me
to see, that he who is acquainted with the evidence
.which God has annexed to his word, has not cmly
every thing he can reasonably require ; but tbaX, as
/ Mr Jenyns has remarked, he will find it require
/ more faith to be a consistent infidel than to be a
vyChiistian." Thus did JDi vine grace triumph over
;all opposition. A heavenly light broke in upon
that mind which was darkened by the douda ni
error, and Mr Cecil, from an enemy and a disbe-
liever, became a sincere convert to the troth, and
a. zealous preacher of that gospel he once endeift-
jvoured to destroy. His heart and views under-
■weiit a tota\ Yevo\u\!\oii) «sA W wjiv became w vfr-

REV. RICHARD CECIb. 803

niarkftble for his pious and sober deportment, as

* he had formerly been for his profligacy and Hoen-
^iBinsness.

Speaking afterwards of his infidelity in a letter
to' a friend, he observes, '* I myself was one who,
''Carried away first by the love of sin, hoped the Bible
■ might not be tme^ I then listened to such as
' were hardened enough to assert that it was not
' truef till at length I believed my own lie ; and the
vanity of appearing something like a philosopher,

* l¥ho- had thrown off the traditions of the nursery,
set me on propagating that lie. But when, like

i'the prodigal, I came to myself, I had many pain-
ful steps to tread back, and many difficult and in-
'trieate steps to retrace. I now wished that the
•Bible might be true, and was glad to receive help
^m any able guide who had written on its evi-
•dences.**

- In the meantime his father, who was firmly at-
tached to the Established Church, observing his
ibdn's religious turn of mind, and attachment to Dis-
senters, told him that if he persisted in maintaining
%ach a connection, he would withdraw both his
vdnhtenance and support ; but assuring him at the
flame time, that if he inclined to go regularly into
#te church, he would not only defray the expense
v>f a University education, but purchase him a liv-
ing when he entered into orders. Upon conside-
rati6n, Mr Cecil complied with the wishes of fan
father, and entered Queen*s College, Oxford, in his
twenty^fourth year, 10th May, 1773. In Septem^*
ber, 1776, h^ was ordained Deacon, on the title of
#ie Rev. Mr Pngh of Rauceby, in Lincolnshire,
in spring following, with much applause, he took
tile. degree of Bachelor of Acts, and in Febnnn[>
J 777, be was admitted to priesVa ov(V.eY%«.

S04 C0NVXET8 FROM UnriD^ITT

After ft short stay at Hauceby, Mr Cecil, at ^
request of Mr Pugh» wi^^t to X^icealenbire to
supply the churches of Thornton, Bagwuftb, and
Markfield, till the son of the lata Vicajr ^ul4 ^
ready to succeed his &ther. H^e he labgiii^
with unremitting zeal, and h^ the happiness of
seeing, under his ministry, a xevival of religiqpij
where it had lamentably declined ; and was tbe
means of impressing the mind of Mr Abbot, who
was to succeed him, with such views of thenatofe
and importance of the clerical office, th^t he I19-
came a faithful and exemplary minister.

Soon after this, he was presented, throu^^ the
interest of some friends, to two small livings at
Lewes in Sussex, of which he took almost inome-
diate possession. Here ha remained for seyoral
years, in the conscienUous diachaige of hia minis-
terial duties. But the local situation of his resir
dence proved injurious to his h^th, and he be-
came afflicted with a rheumatic disorder in his
head. This dispensation rendered it necessary fwr
him to employ a curate, whose salary absorbed the
whole emolument of both livings. Whilst here, in
June, 1777, he was deprived of his excellent mo*
ther, whose death made a deep impressi<m upon his
mind, and was the means of confirming more and
more that serious and devotional feeling which cha^
racterized bis subsequent life. In two' yean after
he lost his father.

Mr Cecil 8 rheumatic complaints nothing abat-
ing at Lewes, be returned to the suburbs of Lon-
don for the recovery of his health ; and from this
time, the metropolis became the sphere of his
most important mimsterial labour^ ; imd the disis*
terested and md»^Ve^\tTQ«Ba^ ia whipb be per*

REV. RICHARb CECIL. 305

formed his numerous and difficult duties, was the
most convincing proof of the pure spirit with
which he was actuated, — ^that the interests of his
feHow-men, and the advancement of genuine
Christianity, were dearest to his heart.

His most important charge, to which he seemed
' peculiarly raised and prepi^ed by Providence, was
^at of St John's Chapel, Bedford-Row, at that
tkne the largest belonging to the Established
Church of England in the city. It was part of the
estate of the Rugby Charity, the management of
which was chiefly left to Sir Eardly Wilmot, to
whom Mr Cecil was recommended by Archbishop
Ccnnwallis. He had already officiated, for some
time, at different churches and chapels in London.
For sevei'al years, he preached the morning lecture
St Lothbury, the evening lecture at Orange-Street
Chapel, Leicester Fields ; and after that was relin-
quished, he was engaged, in conjunction with his
ifriend the Rev. Heiu*y Foster, to perform the same
service at the chapel in Long- Acre. He under-
took also the Sunday evening lecture at Christ's
Oiurch, Spitalfields, where vast congregations as-
sembled. From these diversified engagements he
reaped little or no pecuniary advantages. Some
of them were a positive loss, as from me inconve-
nient distance, he was obliged to be at the expense
ci a coach.

He entered upon the discharge of his ministe-
rial duties m St John's Chapel, in March 1780.
F<nr three years he received no emolument, as the
hearers were few, and the expenses, and interest of
money expended on repairs were very considerable.
His whole income at this time was only £80, per
annum, but it was not gain or pecuniaxY couseidAr

2c^

906 COKVBllfS FROM fKFI01LITT.

raticuu that stimulated bi9 exertioii8,ar tMccofaeAth
thoughts. Upon this snwdl pittaiiee be sofmrte^
for seveial yean» himiielf, Im y^^ wliom na had
married from Lewes, and a servanta Hie miiHelnf
at this diapel> wee attended with diiS&oiikiee wUcb
eoold only be eormoimted by that energy aadl in-
dependence oi mindy wbieb were peculier to Mr
CeciL He had topreacbyontbe <»Eiebend»V>inea
of business, and of llie worid, whose proud and
haughty spirits were at enmity' whb the genavi of
the gospeL << When I wee sent thither/' (aays he)
^< I considered that I waa aent to the people of
that place Bsad n^hbondiood* I thougbt It nqr
doty, therefore, to ad<^ a system and etyle of
preaching, which shoidd have a tendency to aoieflt
their case- I began, accordingly, with priadpiei.
J preached on toe divine anthority of the Scr^
tares. I set myself to explain terms and phrases^
my chief olject was under-ground work." Qn.tfae
oiiiet hand, he had to contend wi^ the religious
prejudices of his audience^ who, unaware si his
particular object, raised an outcry against him, that
at other places he continued to preach the truth,
but that at St J(^ s he shunned to declare ^
wh<^e counsel of God. Mr Cecil, notwithstaMU
ing these damoreus dccosations, ptfasvered in llie
cause he had began, to deliver the tnitb aocordiBg
to the circumstances of his hearers, and as tlity
were able to bear it ; and his efforts were crannied
with abundatit success, — as he estabUediad at fit
John's not only a numerous, but a serioaa and de-
vout congregation.

He continued in liie disdufge ef hia varioui
avocations, generally ^^reaching four times ev«ry
Smiday, aadserexoitasneadsifa^^^dBti^^nt^

ABY. BSGHARD CECIL. 807

1796, wiieai he expeiwaced the (tonsequences
ifi Itts too great exerUons, being attadced with a
jeomplaint mq>poaed to be sciatica* Upon a
.^BOBUiiltatioa of ^ Facshy, he was prohibited
from preaching, so long as his existing symptoma
«0iitiiiiied; When he was so fiar recovered, next
|iteer, as to he able to resume his usual duties,
It was evident from his discomees, tiiat his af-
iKction had been sancdfied for liie better enft-
hling him to see the tme nature of earthly things,
Jud to shew to mankind their poTvrty and empti-
Aess. His bodily health was janndk impaired ;
and the e£bcts of the disease remained like a worm
at the root of his constttation. Frequently after
euffniag greatly all the preceding night, he would
-go^forth to his public duties, se feeble and ema-
ciated, tiiat his friends were led to a^^Hehend ike
worst consequences. Still, howerer, he persevered,
smimated by love and zed, without any outward
aippeannce of suffering, or any other perceptible
tftects, save ihat feettng and unction which it pro-
dbced.

In the year 1800, Mr Cedl was presented by
fiamuel lliomton £^q. to the livings of ChoUiaia
and Bisley, hi Surrey. He expressed himsetf
Ugfaly eensiUe of sndi an act (^ kindness and at-
tention, but returned aevend rdnsals to accept c€
AtBOU At lengdi, however, he consented to refer
tba matter to /^ tnistees anda few select friendai^
who were nnartimous in recommending him, in the
pnsent etate of his health and drcum s tances, to
accept of the livings. Mr Cecil, in compliance
with such a rec<«mieadalion, took possession of
the livings, and engaged a curate to supply, during
winter, his absence at St John's. By tloda \&»uia>

S08 CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY.

a considerable addition was made to his income.
The whole of his emoluments now amonnted to
£235, yearly. But bis curate's salary, and odier
deductions which were necessary, reduced it to the
scanty sum of £ 150.

Mr Cecil found these parishes lamentably im-
mersed in ignorance and yice. Some idea of
their mored condition may be formed from fais
own statements. '^ Bisley is a rectory. It is
completely out of the world. The farmers are all
so perfectly untaught, that when they met to
settle the business of their tythes, there was not
one of them able to write. In these parts they
are mostly occupiers of their own lands.** Tlie
duty of attending church was almost totally ne-
glected, and the sacred day was devoted to busi-
ness or amusement. His heart was deeply affected
with the scene that presented itself : and his im-
pression, on first going among them, deserves to be
recorded in his own words. ^ When I first came
to Chobham,'' (says he), ** as I was sitting in the
vestry, — on hearing the noise and uproar of the
boys, and the people in the gallery talking aloud
to each other, — I burst into tears ; and felt with
the prophet when he said, Can these dry boosi
live ?" But he did not despair ; and though his en-
feebled constitution required respite from fatigue
or exertion, he began, with his usual ardour and
diligence, to cultivate the moral wilderness around
him.

He entered under many very discouraging cir-
cumstances ; and found that there also, as well as in
other places whither he had been called by prori*
dence, it was necessary to begin at the very foonda*
tion; His \a\>o\UL% Wnqnvc ni«sc% ^Sitanded

HSV, RICHARD CSCIL. 9M

the happiest effects. The soil which had foiv
. merly been Wnm and unprofitable, soon began to
exhibit the effects of a carefal cultivaticMi. Tb»
duties of the Sabbath were punctBally obsenred,
and a spirit of piety and religion became moi9
generally prevalent.*

Mr Cecil continued to discharge his clerical
duties with the same diligence, till the year 1807,
,when he was disabled for some time by a slight par
itdytic affection; althougfi he afterwards recovered
ao &r as to be able to resume his ministmal func^
tiona. In February 1808, he ezpmenced another
jparalytic attack, whidi, depriving him of the use of
}us right side, unfitted him for further usefulness
jn a public capacity. By the advice of his medir
cal attendants, electricity was applied, but without
effect; and he experienced the mournful truth,
that neither the power of medicine, nor the affeo*
tionate soUdctude of friends, nor the advantage of
the finest situations can avail, contrary to the

* H« oecfUHonally founditdlificuU t9 srrett the attenftioa
of his audience, ancl in order to awaken and fix their mind%
lie sometimes had recourse to rather unusual expedients.
" I was once preaching," he said, ** a Charity Sermon,
mb%re the congregation was very large, and chiefly of the
lower iDrder^. I found it impossible, by my usual method
of preaching, to gain their attention. It was in the after-*
noon : and my hearers seemed to meet nothing in my
preacmhgy that was capable of rousing them out of the
•tupefaetion of a full dinner. Some lounged, and soma
turned their baclcs on me. ' I must have attention,* I said
to myself, * I will be beard.* The case was desperate j
§nd^ in despair, I sought a desperate remedy. I exclaimed
aloud, * Last Monday mormng a man was hanged at
Tyburn.' Instantly the fkos of things was changed !
All was silence and exp ec ta t ion ! I eaiigbt their ear, and
fftaified it (brough tba sermon.**

sit) CONVERTS FROM INFIDELITY.

dirine appointment. After lingering nearly liirw
years,- without deriving! any benefit from chasager ^
air, or his visits to Bath and Titnbridge waters, he
was relieved from his afflictions by a fit of apo>-
plexy, August 15, 1810, m the 61st year of his
age.

During the whole period of his last illness, the
effects of his distressing malady were visible oil
his mind, as well as his body. The view of his
character under this dark and melancholy visita-
tion, is well drawn by his friend the Rev. Daniel
Wilson, who preached at St John s op the f>cca(-
sion of his death. ** The energy ukd deckioB and
grandeur of his natural powers gradually ga^
way, and a morbid feebleness succeeded. Yel^
even in this afflicting state, with his body on one
side almost lifeless, his organs of speech impaire<li
and his judgment weakened, the spiritual dispo>
sitions of his heart displayed themselves in a very
remarkable manner. He appeared grea;! in iHi
ruins of nature ; and his eminently religious char-
acter manifested itself, in a manner which surprised
all who were acquunted with the ordinary efferte
of pai*alytic complaints. The actings of hope were
of course impeded, but die habit of grace, which had
been forming for thirty or forty yea^ shone through
the cloud.

*^ Throughout his illness, his whole mind, instead
of being fixed on some mean and insignificant con-
cern, was riveted on spiritual objects. Every
other topic was so uninteresting to him, and even
burdensome, that he coidd with reluctance allo#
it to be introduced. He spent his whole time in
reading the Sciv^taies, and one or two old divines*
particularly Ax<^S^V ^^^"^^'^^'^ ML he 8«M

&EV. RICHARD CBCIL. Si^

Juod did, WB8.M a man 4m the brink of an eternal
T,8tate« His faith never Mled; and he would speak
of the great foundations of Christianity with the
.follest confidence. The interest likewise, Tdiich
-he took in the success of the gospel, was promi-
nent, when his disease at all remitted.

*' About a year before his death, when his powers
.of mind had been for a long time debilitated, but
still retained some remnants of their former vigour,
his religious feelings were at times truly desirable.
.Evtti when his disease had made still further pro-
^;res6, as <^ten as the slightest alleviation was af-
jforded him, his judgment became more distinct,
•his morbid depression lessened, and he was mo-
derately composed. It was only a few weeks be-
iore 1^8 dissolution, that such an interval was
vouchsafed to him. He then spoke ^with great
feeling from the Scriptures, in family worship, for
about half an hour ; and dwelt on the love, and
.grace, and power of Christ, with particular compo-
sure of mind."

Mr Cecil's character, both personal and^ministe-
rial, has been pourtrayed by several of his friends at
considerable length, and with every advantage of
minute and accurate information. The review of
his life is not without interest ; and suggests some
useful and important reflections. The pains taken
to instruct him in religion ; the unexpected revolt
he made from these early impressions ; the daring
and decided tone of his infidelity ; the occasional
checks of conscience he received in his career of
furofligacy ; the process by which he was reclaimed
from his unbelief, and led to abandon ^e vices and
follies Into which he had recklessly plunged ; and
|he whole course of m<»al discipline em^lo^^^LNA

train &nd piteptf^ hiiii fbf eiiiin^itl mw^fiitiMsft Hi
the dmrch ;— «n$ MibjecM iftistnictit^ in th^maelfi^
ftdd Affording matter of profitable contemplattoiL

While tmder the control of bad prindplet, hb
yielded to erery species of licentiionsness, foUowb%
the bent of his own bold and impetoons spirit ; ez(
that then atire generosity or pride Of his mind,
him to despise whaterer he thought meanaaiid
honourable. But the force of conviction frhimplied
over all opposition. That religion which bad
begun in disgiiBt with the world, and dislike to
the peculiar doctrines of the gospel, by degree
gained strex^h, and made rapid advances towatds
maturity. The seed sown in injfhncy, and watered
with maternal tears, though loiig buried, buTst at
length into life, and shot forth vrith Tigbur. Tlie
faculties and dispositions of his miod i«oeiyed k
new direction. Those strong natural powert,
which fitted him for becoming an instniment ojf
extensive evil or eminent good, regulated by the
principles, and consecrated to the service of r^
gion, qualified him in a particular manner, for a i
successful discharge of the arduous office to whieh '
he devoted himself.

In the performance of his ministerial duties, he
was zealous and indefktigable, disregarding fatigues
and inconveniences, and even his own bodily in-
firmities. Wherever he went, or whatever was
his employment, he never fot^got that he was t
Christian minister. He was constantly on the
watch to do the work of an Evangelist ; and to
approve himself a faithful steward hi his Master'ft
service. His riews of the sacred function, are
fltriking and ^i^toigEn&tQ. ^ A ministei^," (saye he)
^< is a L^iritie. m ^5eMR:^^\!Bs^tiiA\i& is to

(

iteV. RICHARD CBCiL. 31ft

fain am tlie littld tninsaetblis of this W(h*ld. Btil
b miiltBier k called, and set apart for a hi^fa and
flubliriie bnslnei^ His tnuisactions are to iM) h^
itireeil the liviiig and the deildi between heareti
kid jparth ; atid he ninst stand as with ifnngs oh
Ua niptdders. — ^He must be an eagle> towering to-
tirird hearen on strong pinions."

&y tbes^ maxims he strictly regulated his con-
dtici ; thanifesting a parental solicitude for the
iirelfare of the churches over which he was called
td preside. There was nothing which he would
not haTe made a willing sacrifice to this primarjr
object ; and he may be sidd to have shortened hn
days by his nraltiplied and incessant labours ; but
he (lied with firih and unshaken confidence in
thbse truths which he had so long exemplified ih
his own life, and endeavoured, in his public capa-
dity, to impress on the minds of his audience.

Of his ministerial usefulness he had many wit-
nesses. His labours were successful wherever hk
was called to reside, and met with general accep-
tation ; although his popularity was uniformly ac-
companied with a large share of humility. Thb
qualifications he had received both from nature aAA
education, his varioiis acquirements and matured
experience, raised him to a high rank among the
preachers of his time. In the more private exer*
ciae of bis pastoral office, as a counsellor and
fiiend, he manifested great faithfulness, tenderness^
-and prudence,

IUb attainments, both as a itaan and a Christian,
were above mediocrity. He possessed great dig-
nity of mind and conduct, firmness, energy, and
originality. His learning was s6lid and extensive ;

2d

314 CON,¥£aTS FROM INFIpELITT.

and there were no important points in morals or
rd%ioB, on which he had not read the best au-
thors ; nor could any tojMC be started in history
or philosophy, on subjects of art or science, with
which he was not generally conversant. Besides
his extensive acquaintance with books, he was a
master in the learning which is more peculiarly i^
propriate to his own profession. All the other de-
partments of knowledge he laid under contribution
to this single object. With the works of our elder
diviaes he was familiar, and was so much in the
habit of reading the Scriptures in the original, that
he went daily to this task, as it were naturally and
hisensibly.

Mr Cecil published several works, consisting of
Sermons, Tracts, and Biographical Sketches. The
latter contain, Memoirs of his three friends, the
Hon. and Rev. W. B. Cadogan, Rector of St
Luke's, Chelsea; John Bacon, Esq. a distinguished
sculptor ; and the Rev. John Newton. His Ser-
mons are written in an easy and convei*sationaI
style, short and nervous, and sometimes interspersed
with abrupt and shining thoughts. He excelled
rather in strong intuitive sense, than in a train of
argument ; and more in the liveliness of his images
than in their arrangement. His discourses, how-
ever, bear the stamp of a mind capable of vigorous
conception, and an imagination rapid and inven-
tive ; and they display throughout, an earnestness
of purpose, and a felicity of illustiation, which must
have come home to the heai*t, more than labom*ed
expression, or the studied artifices of eloquence.

THB NEW YORK PUBUC LIBRARY
RBFBRBNCB DEPARTMENT

This book is under no oironmsUuioes to be
taken from the Building

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[fn* 410

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