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ANnVs"s'o^.^" ^^^ " S^P^ from % «fa«rfietM«9l«Mbhia«. the BFIPr.^ TORONTO, CANADA : . BELFORD BROTHERS, P^b^.sh Sydney, N. S. W : *•■ H. DAVENPORT, Agent. MDCCCLXXVr. £RS. i "aS^H-wTi^-s -i«-» -■ s FRnfTBD AND BOUND BT HUNTHR, ROSB AND CO., TORONTO. DEDICATED «D MRS. MACKINTOSH OF GEDDES, *HIS MOTHER AND MINK.'* Augmi 1854. THIS DEDICATION IS RENEWED WITH INCREASED AFFECTIOH TOTHB GRANDMOTHER OF MY CHILDRM. JtifuitlS^ i III. CONTENTS. CHAPTER r. Birth-Edinburgh Academy-Glasgow College-Earlv O,,,, » r- '' C«n.u.c_ResoIves to enter thf MinUtr^l^astlLrTirSl:;::;": , FAca CHAPTER II. Melho*-H»biKof Dtvotton-Ailmena!^ Toa,-Gedd=^Lo.e of ar CHAPTER III. Cambridge— Joins the Free ChiirrI,_TK= t i Maddea-iietterfromJoLsh:^^:^,^:^^^^^^^^^^ [- R- Mr. ^^ CHAPTER IV. ' ■ • • Ci CHAPTER V. ^H ''''"^" Edinburgh-i845-47-Father's Illness-West Port Wnl CHAPTER VI. Concert r%.48--Lasswade-Letters to Widow Mackenzie-Jenny Lind's I.V • •• Vlll Contents, y CHAPTER vil 'lanes in Geneva. 'AC* 109 Q CHAPTER vn^. ' * • . •«« CHAPTER IX Uaves Geneva- Vevav-T , CHAPTER X. • • ' 9U n- CHAPTER XI. ' • • 07s CHAPTER Xir. Kome— Letter to Rev M m i . Letter to R. Balf";, Esg it p"'? ^^"^^^' ^"-^"Pt'on of Ron, Prisons-WalJc-n p ^^ ^'- ^*''«'"^s-The Ghetto-~Th ^ ^*~ Peter-, A ,^ ^°'"*-An-Saints'-nav D , ^''^ Mamertme . >98 CHAPTER XIII, ■ • • w \- Contents, CHAPTER XIV. PACB Tour to the counf ' the .Sneid— Church and Convent of St. Onofrio— Visit to the Coin., ilomano— Raphael's Picture of the TransfiKuratioo —The Jews— Love of Truth — Last Letter from Rome — Tour to Naples ; Vesuvius— Baiae—Poziuoli — Sorrento— A Sabbath at the Monastery of Monte Casino— Sudden Attack of Illness— Leaves Rome, . . }5a CHAPTER XV. Journey from Rome to Tflbingen — Letter to Professor Forbes from Ravenna — Letter to his Sister, Lady Gordon Cumming, from Venice — Verses : Adieu to Venice I — Letter to Mr. Bum Murdoch from Verona — Feel- ings on leaving Italy, ....... j8i CHAPTER XVI. Tflbingen — His studies there — Diary— Letters to \&s youngest Sister— To Rev. W. Ker— Visits Stuttgart and Komthal— Letters to his Mother, A. Bum Murdoch, Esq., and Rev. N. Macleod — Returns to Tflbingen — Letters to A. Hamilton, Esq., to his youngest Sister, to R. Balfour, Esiq., to Miss Hodges, to his Mother, to A. Burn Murdoch, Esq., and to his Sister, Lady Gordon Cumming— Christmas at Stuttgart — Letters to Miss Hodges, to his Sister Mrs. Smith, to Rev. N. Macleod, to A. Hamilton, Esq.— Declining Health— Diary, ...... 397 CHAPTER XVII. John Mackintosh's Friends in Scotland hear of his danger — They join him at Tubingen— Darkness and Light — He is removed to Canstadt — Life at Canstadt — Last Days— Death — Burial, ..... 448 Appendix— Notes on Schools in StuttgaiC 479 I ^.rk:-i f I mi- PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. A SHORT time after the death of John Mackintosh I received the following communication ;— •The Rev. Norman Macleod, l6, Woodland Terrace, Glasgow. * Rev. and Dear Sir, — Ever since it pleased God to remove our dear friend, John Mackintosh, and to deprive us of his living example, counsels, and affectionate com- panionship, we have cherished the hope that a Memoir of him would be drawn up, with liberal extracts from his Journals and Correspondence, by which, though dead, he might yet speak to us. We understand that private diaries and memoranda of much interest exist, and that a large collection of letters might easily be made, breathing his beautiful and affectionate spirit, and full of sage reflections, and advice, and deep Chris- tian experience. * Believing that you have ready access to these mate* rials, and feeling confident that in no hands could the task of weaving them into the form of a Memoir be more excellently performed, we respectfully urge you to ' xii Preface, overcome the feelings of delicacy which may prevent you and his other relatives from contemplating a pub- lication in connexion with his memory. "We assure you that such a collection as we have ventured to suggest, with a Sketch from your pen of his character and life, especially the deeply interesting details which you have the power to give of his last illness, would not only form to us a precious Memorial of our departed friend, but would be valued by us as contaming much on which we should wish to dwell, and often refer to for our own instru<^u)n, example, and encouragement through life. * We speak not only for ourselves, but for a large circle of those who were more or less intimately acquainted with Mackintosh, and all of whom we feel confident will re-echo what we now say, and would sign this letter with us if convenience permitted. * We urge, further, that this work, while we desire to see it in the most modest form it can assume — the more truly to answer to the character of him it commemorates ' — should be given to the public. *It seems to us very desirable that ♦^he Christian testimony of one of such sound judgment and con- sistent character should be brought to the knowledge of many beyond his own personal friends. ' There is no book we more earnestly desire to have the power of putting into the .hands of the young in whom we feel an interest; and of generally recora- Preface, xiii mending; and we indulge the hope that you will find in this consideration an additional reason for yielding to our present request. — We are, Rev. and dear Sir, yours most sincerely, THOMAS CLEGHORN. D. MACLAGAN. ROBERT BALFOUR. THO. THOMSON. JOHN M. M'CANDLISH. N. C CAMPBELL. ALEX. H. BURN MURDOCH. CHARLES J. BROWN. ROBERT BOAG WATSON, JAMES HOWDEN. JAMES D. FORBES. JOHN CAMPBELL SHAIRP.* While conscious of my inability to perform worthily the task thus intrusted to me, I was much gratified by its kind proposal. But I must confess that at first I strongly felt what I am sure the friends of John Mac- kintosh will heartily sympathize with, that it seemed like disloyalty to his memory, to publish Journals of a life so faithfully recorded and so very secret before God ; and thus to bring under th« notice of the world one who was himself so singularly unobtrusive. Upon the other hand, such a request, coming from those who knew and loved him, and whose judgment was so deserving of respect, could not be refused by me, lest I might thereby incur the responsibility of preventing a light from shining before men, which, others seeing, might thereby be led to glorify God. I felt, too, that those very features of his character which would have made him, when alive, recoil from publi- city, only made his ' hidden life,' so true and real, the av Preface. liN •nore worthy of being known -n, ° -ha. he is, evenloHan *! """'^"<'"' *"' "hat he was, seemed to JTl f'/^^^^t-^ce of ^yJ^-^H. and truthfd attest to" "T""^ "^* •nstrument of advancing ,fi ^ "^^ '"'" *e •^ been an ean^eat p.pLal: "" "'^ '^'''"^ ''f* Oeeply thankfol to G^d ^ hJ h '" °' "'"' ^ - fe *e high privilege, a.^d h„ '"^ "'''^^''^^ "P°" Memorials of my friend ^A "■' °' *""'"« *«»« »y « demanded, for whatevH 7 ^"""^ '° °'^^^' ^^ -y part of the wJrk as I hf , "'^ ■'^'""^ "> Of n>r ability, from 'th^ o^ I h" l'° *^ ^'^ '-' I can as^e the reader lis^h" "" '"'"« needed-that, as far as I Icn„ . ^ *''"'^"ce is 8^P% as true as can J ' ""' '^ ""« « ^o- "^ -other. Iha:rird"nol°"^"™^'»- e^erated nothing- nor hT r "^' "°'°"ed <» -> ideal portnut of';hat rl J T^^'^^ '^ ?«-« "-n, but a real one of :irh: ^f"'"* "'^"^ "- conariTSi^:';:; -«en. for having published; but I was afr"d of '"'^'" ''"^^ ''^-^ *e work by printing m"' ll "f" *^ ^''^^ «' "■l^ were most cha^etr,[;oTh: "" *°^^ <""^ ^- a. some Of his letters to ^...„. ^. Preface. xy that would have found a place here, had not the Pro- fessor's absence from home made it impossible for him to obtain them for me. I must, however, be pardoned, if I take the liberty, unasked, of quoting a portion of the Professor's own letter to myself, written to explain how, to his great regret, he was thus prevented from complying with my request : — ' I indulge the hope that my name will be allowed to appear united with Ais in your Biography — that you will undertake to express, however briefly, the warmth of regard, I might truly say affection, which united us, and which (judging from what I have learnt from yourself and others of the re- ferences which occur in his private papers) must have been mutual^ to an extent of which neither party was at the t\ra.Q fully aware.' One word more of prefatory explanation. John Mackintosh, in his last will, desired that, after the pay- ment of certain sums of money, from the funds at his disposal, any surplus should be handed over to the Mission Schemes of the Free Church. In the same instrument, he bequeathed his bookcase and books to the library of the New College — where they now are — with the exception of a few volumes specified by him- self, and left as mementos to different friends. The state of his funds did not, upon examination, permit of his wishes with reference to the Schemes being car- ried out. I mention these things here, as they belong to his character, and to show that I am only fulfilling m xvi Preface, my friend's wishes, in handing over the profits from the copyright of this work, to those missionary objects of the Free Church, the welfare of which John Mac- kintosh had so much at heart, for — it is unnecessary to add — the Book, in everything which gives it any kind 9f valoe, belongs to him, and not to me. Glasgow, Au^t 185^ \ I 111 ' PREFACE TO THE ELEVENTH EDITION. The circumstances which led to the first publication of these Memorials, have been already noticed in the original Preface. During the nine years which have elapsed since the volume was published, ten editions of it have issued from the press ; and many persons, especially young men, have gratefully acknowledged the spiritual good which they have derived from its perusal. One of the most pleasing results of its circulation has been the foundation of the ' Mackintosh Scholarship ' in connexion with the Free Church Mission in Madras. This has been secured by the sum given for copyright (;^2oo) by the late publishers, the interest of which is found sufficient in India to support annually two students. The excellent missionaries, who have been kind enough to send me full details of the examinations for this Prize, assure me that it is considered as a great boon to the Mission, and is keenly contested for by the more advanced pupils. The friends of John Mackintosh will thus, I doubt not, rejoice with me in the successful accomplishment h kviii Preface, of our anxious wishes to make known to others, as faf as this could be done by so imperfect a Biography, the reality of that Christian life which had so deeply im- pressed ourselves, the unobtrusive excellence of which we so long admired, and the memory of which we cherish with undying affection. In preparing the present edition for the press, I have corrected the former ones, and have carefully perused again the numerous volumes of my friend's Diaries, adding to those already published nearly two chapters, selected chiefly from his travels in Italy. Principal Forbes has kindly put at my disposal Mackintosh's letters to himself, which, for reasons pre- viously stated, he was unable to furnish for the former edition. But few, comparatively, could be made use of, from their substance having been already given either in other letters, or in the copious extracts from his Diaries. Among the additional letters now published is one to myself, and also the last one written by Mackintosh, addressed to the Principal. . As the present edition has been thus considerably enlarged, and the price of the volume reduced nearly one-half, it is to be hoped that its circulation as well as its value will be thereby increased. My friend Mr. Strahan having purchased the copy- right of this volume, I have peculiar pleasure in pre- paring it for his 'Family Library:' but I need hardly say that my labour in so doing has been, as heretofore, a labour of love only. il: Preface, xix as I am glad in being able to enrich this Preface by the following letter from Principal Forbes, which he has been so good as send me about his much attached friend : — • United College, St. Andrews, October 1862. * My dear Dr. Macleod, — 1 have learned with great pleasure from you of the probable appearance of a new and enlarged edition of the Life of John Mackintosh. Great as has been the circulation of the original work, it always appeared to me that it scarcely secured the amount of public attention which was due to the beauty and excellence of the character which it described \ the unusual variety of the material for biography ; and (I must be allowed to add) the admirable manner in which it was employed. ' I have not forgotten that fully ten years ago, when that work was in preparation, you, its Editor, asked me to set down some impressions of Mackintosh derived from several years of friendship more or less intimate. Causes known to you, but which I need not here detail, — including the precarious state of my own health at the time; and my enforced absence from home, and from all letters and documents connected with past years, — such causes, I say, compelled me to decline any attempt to embody recollections then embittered by the painful recentness of his too early removal * New, however, I cannot hesitate to comply with your wish ; although I must own that the truthfulness of the picture of his life and his death which you have drawn I XX Preface, in The Earnest Student^ and especially the delightful letters in which the subject of the Biography may be said to have sketched his own portrait, require no fresh illustration. I therefore write more as an act of pious respect and affection for the departed, than from the vain belief that I can add anything important to the Biography of my friend. *' His saltern accumulem donis et fungar inani Munere." * I can say not less truly now^ and from my whole heart, what you have been so good as to quote from my letter of 1852 in your former Preface, that "I indulge the hope of my name being allowed to appear united with his in your Biography," and give expression in my own person to "the warmth of regard, I might truly say affection, which united us, and which (judging from what I have learnt from yourself and others of the re- ferences which occur in his private papers) must have been mutual to an extent of which neither party was at the ixa\^ fully aware." * Were I to express my feeling of John Mackintosh's characteristics in two words, I would say they were — Love and Truth. His was indeed the apostolic charity which vaunteth not itself, envieth not, seeketh not her own, thinketh no evil, hopeth all things, believeth all things, endureth all things. I do not think that any form of words can express more exactly the amount of his piety towards God, his love to man, his saintly humility, his self-denial — amounting at times to heroic *4 ; 1 i he Preface, ud endurance. His devotion to the cause of Truth was no less conspicuous. His determination to " prove all things, and hold fast that which is good ; " his freedom from the blindness of party spirit, and his absolute incom- prehension of its malignity, were conspicuous' in all his words, his writings (I mean his diaries and letters), and his actions. And yet his firmness to withstand what was wrong, his unflinching pursuit ot what he believed to be right, would have fitted him for one of the noble army of martyrs. * There are few relations of life in which character is more severely tested than when friends travel together. This was especially true twenty years ago, when (at least abroad) some amount of personal inconvenience was the inevitable price of visiting almost any part of the Continent Having been so fortunate as to have Mackintosh as my companion in France for some time in 1 84 1, I thus saw him under the various aspects which inevitably arise during a rambling geological and pedestrian tour in the remoter provinces. His modesty, affection, unselfish consideration, and engaging hilarity, are delightful to recollect even at this distance of time. No contretemps discomposed him; no pursuit, personal perhaps to myself, but acquired an interest in his eyes ; no bad weather or sleepless nights (and such we had) irritated him ; no fatigue daunted him. His loving heart shed an altnosphere of content around the most adverse circumstances ; his natural gaiety and humour helped to shorten the dreariest road. zxi! Pre/ace. Ill 'One of his most inherent characteristics was a passion for the beautiful and sublime in nature. He had a memory of singular tenacity for local associations, as indeed every part of his correspondence proves. Endued with fine tact and a natural faculty of observa- tion, nothing, however apparently insignificant, escaped him. His soul expanded amidst natural scenery, and he knew no fatigue in quest of its resources. * It was during the happy weeks of our French tour, and afterwards through the intercourse which a confi- dential correspondence developed, that I learned to know him best Whilst living in and near Edinburgh, it was a matter of regret to me at the time, and of deeper regret since, that our intercourse was compara- tively small in amount, and not absolutely free from constraint Possibly his having kno^vn me first in be- coming my pupil, led him to associate me, when we met in Edinburgh, with that long-severed relation. Possess- ing tastes and pursuits considerably removed from the exact sciences, his naturally profound modesty perhaps exaggerated this divergence of our interests and occu- pations. Probably, however, other causes, partly, no doubt, physical, which appear to have greatly affected his health and spirits during the later part of his student life, were still more efficacious in making our intercourse at that time less frequent and intimate. I used to mark pre-occupation in his manner, not unmixed with languor, as of one subdued by care, if not by indisposition. And a very large amount of reserve on hi? side, s;tc1} Preface, xxiii as is characteristic of deeply sensitive minds, forbade the intrusion of inquiry or almost of sympathy. There is no doubt that, at such times, he was working out the great problems which Life and Duty present to every man, and his nature was to work them out alone. Had he happily been spared to take that active part in the service of the Divine Master which he longed for, yet almost feared, it is not to be doubted that he would have been personally no less a gainer than the Church to which he attached himself. 'But I find myself exceeding the limits of what 1 undertook. John Mackintosh will always be to me an impersonation of whatsoever things are true, honest, just, pure, lovely, and of good report. He was a model of docility, intelligence, and perseverance as a student ; of gratitude, faithfulness, and forbearance as a friend ; of humility, purity, and devotion as a Christian. One of the profound regrets which 1 feel in his loss (which, while I write, seems to me yet recent) is, that he was removed at a time when his ripened age, increased experience, and treasures of the best kind of knowledge, would have rendered him to me, as to others far his seniors, a counsellor, and in the best sense a Friend, amidst all the changes and chances of life.' [or. It may possibly interest some readers to know that all those friends who requested the publication of these Memorials, as well as the relatives and correspondents of Mackintosh mentioned in this volume, are still alive, XXIV Preface. with the exception of his aged correspondent in the North. I may sta,^2 also that, since his death, I have twice visited Canstadt, — the first time with my wife, his youngest sister. It was truly pleasing, after years of absence, to find the same excellent family still occupy- ing the house in which he died : and the affectionate greeting which we received, with the honest tears which were shed by every member of it on our again meeting them in the old rooms, afforded us a most touching evidence of their own unselfishness, which had so fully appreciated his, and so long kept alive the impression of it on their own hearts. s, Ml '^^ar 1:1 H \ \ / 1 the have 2, his rs of :upy- nate hich •ting bing [ully 5ion '^■^ \.i'^ * . J THE EARNEST STUDENT; Bteiiiorials of the r,-^, ^ .v , f t^e I.tfe ofy„,^^ Mackintosh. CHAPTER I Of Sajxr xrr '- "*"'^"^'> - ^^ 9* William MackintosrErof rir^''.' '°" "^ *« '^'e Nairn, by his marriage wria^'^."^,^: '" *e county of '«f ; was a pupa in wfZ™' E^^'^°<'™*^^'' '» October 1830, when he entered ,^^ v ^"'°'" ""'" where he remained untUjub'S.' '^''''""'' L»*'">e. Free Church, CawdorTfor flf ' ' "■' ^''- S™™ r. lor some years, and while he I 2 Memorials of His success as a scholar has hitherto, I believe, been unrivalled in the history of that Institution, so distin- guished in Scotland for its pupils. For seven successive years he carried the first medal of his class, gaining besides, during the same period, up- wards of thirty prizes. The sixth year of his course was saddened by the death of his excellent and revered master, Mr. Robert Mitchell. After his last examina- tion, the Rector, Archdeacon Williams, in bidding him farewell, said, — * You may be a great man, but I am quite sure you will be a good one.' His holidays while at the Academy, and the summers of his later years, were spent at Geddes,^ which never ceased to be the home of his heart and of his most cherished memories. The district of country in which it is situated is eminently beautiful. From the windows of his room he beheld a landscape whose foreground was made up of cultivated fields, varied and broken ])y copse and woodland; while the horizon was bounded along the north by the bold line of coast of the Moray Firth, ending in the western distance with the great Ben Wyvis, itself a constant object of attraction to the eye amidst all the changes of sunshine and cloud, storm and calm, which passed over its huge mass from mom till sunset. In the immediate neighbourhood of Geddes, and surrounding the homes of familiar friends, were scenes eminentlv beautiful ; with innumerable unnamed I. i|R attended the Academy, the Rev. Dr. Nisbet of the North Church, Edinburgh ; and for some months, the late Rev. James Halley ; Rev. William C. Burns, now Missionary in China ; and the Rev. Islay Bums, Free Church, Dundee. * Now the residence of George Mackintosh, Esq., the eldest son of the late Mr. Mackintosh, by his first marriage. yohn Mackintosh. bd till les, ;re [ed |ch, iev. spots and sequestered nooks of loveliness, known only to those who like himself searched for them as for hidden treasure ; — for that intense love of nature which through life * haunted him like a passion,' possessed him from his earliest years, and was daily, almost hourly, gratified by those rural glories among which he lived and delighted to wander. Cawdor's woods and ro- mantic burn ; the majestic forest of Damaway, with the arrowy Findhom sweeping through it ; Findhom's banks, so endless in their varied beauty and wild grandeur; Dulcie with its lonely moorlands, and Loch-in-dorb the only thing which seems to have life among the silent hills of rock and heather that surround it — these were his familiar friends and prized companions. In the constant habit of mingling with good society in his own home (which I may be permitted to say was noted for its hospitality), those tastes and habits were early cultivated that make up the gentleman — a name often much abused and grievously misapplied, but which I use here to express not merely that outward manner in which art is discoverable only by the simplicity and unaffected naturalness which it has aided to produce, but more especially that inward sense of propriety, delicacy of feeling, and nice perception of what is due to others, which are the joint product of a benevolent heart and the habitual influence of good society. But there were greater powers than these which built up his young spirit, and tended to make it what it after- wards became. He had the blessed advantage of a pious education. Christian truth, Christian exranple, and Christian habits of devotion, early impressed his heart. While at home, he was beneath the watchful eye of his father and mother. When studying in Edin- s ^^^^^^g Ij 4 Memorials of burgh, he had always excellent tutors ; was constantly associated with pious relatives ; and also received from his minister, Dr. Muir of St. Stephen's, that religious instruction which, with singular care and attention, he never fails to impart to the younger members of his congregation. In later years still, while in College, he was never beyond the circle of religious teaching. It is true that there was not that learning of spirit within, which adequately expressed the amount and excellence of all this teaching from without — for, alas ! how much precious seed is scattered on the soil of every heart in vain ! — but it would sap our whole faith in the promises of God to pious parents and teachers, in the wisdom of his ap- pointments for the preservation upon earth of a genera- tion to serve Him, and in the value of prayer and of Christian example, if experience did not confirm the truth contained in the well-known guiding text of the godly parent, * Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it.' It is very natural for young Christians, at that period of their history when they become powerfully possessed by the truth, and * all things become new,' so to separate their earlier from their later life, as almost to deny any preparedness in the one for the other. For so entirely is the work in the soul known to be of God, and so very different from the past are all their present views and feelings, that this result, it is naturally supposed, would have been the same even without that religious training which, for so long a period, appeared to have been given in vain. But there is a preparedness for higher things which the eye may not easily perceive. The buds of spring and fruits of autumn lie concealed in the leaf- ■ 4 yohn Mackintosh, It of ler ids kaf- \, less tree of an earlier season. It is the experience of the universal Church, that the school which has furnished the immense majority of her best disciples is the home- school of Christian piety. Full of honours, John left the Academy in 1837 ; and in the winter of that year was enrolled as a student in the Greek and Latin classes of the University of Glas- gow. He also became an inmate of the family of the Rev. Dr. Macleod,* with .vhom he lived during the two winters of his Glasgow College life. In the winter of 1838-39, he was a student of the Greek and Logic classes. His career at College was as distinguished as his previous one in the Academy. During these years he carried the highest prizes in the Greek, Latin, and Logic Classes, besides other honours. This period was one of great importance to him, and exercised a lasting influence on his future life and char- acter. Old friendships were renewed and strengthened, and new ones formed." His student life in Glasgow was marked by the same unswerving steadiness as his earlier course in the Academy. I believe it is strictly true, that he was never once absent from his class, never even once late, nor on any occasion failed thoroughly to master the prescribed exercises. This patience and conscientious attention to details, with the scholarly understanding of every subject of study, was * My father, who died in December 1862. • Among those who were his associates in the Academy, and also in Glasgow, and who continued to the last to be his attached friends, may be mentioned John C. Shairp of Houston, the late lamented Wm. Clerk of Penicuik, and Robert Dalyell of Binns. He ever retained the devoted affection of every member of the family in which he lived, and formed also with his Professor, Mr. Ramsay, and hig family, a friendship equally real and lasting on both sides. ill i 1 Memorials of then, and ever after, a marked feature of his char acter. Never was a man so devoid of all pretence. He knew much which he did ;iot profess to know; but never professed to know anything unless he knew it thoroughly. Let no student, however, associate his name with the vanity which too often accompanies talent and academical success ; or with that selfish moroseness and want of social affection not unfre- quently engendered by solitary study, but which are so repulsive to those of more lively sympathies, though perhaps of less industrious habits. The * hard student ' is too often associated with the 'hard man.' That hourly restraint which he is compelled to impose on himself, and those habits of methodical arrangement of time, untiring perseverance, minute painstaking, which he must acquire often by the sacrifice of the society of his fellows, and by the denial of many otherwise harm- less tastes and amusements congenial to early life, are sometimes imagined to be incompatible with those strong emotions, warm affections, and that relish of earthly existence which are so natural to young men, and so attractive to their fellows. Though not attend- ing the same classes, I was then in the same University, and lived in the same house with him. His private and public Hfe are vividly before me; and never cer- tainly was a student more beloved as well as admired. "With all the sobriety, thoughtfulness, and self-control of a man, he had the merry-heartedness, buoyancy, and unaffected playfulness of a child. His manner was habitually quiet and full of repose ; his temper never ruffled ; his spirits never greatly excited or depressed. No man had a keener appreciation of the ludicrous as well as of the grave side of things, and his mirth was as yohn Mackintosh, 7 real when it was time to laugh, as was his sorrow when it was time to weep. But the feature of his character which the friends of his early as well as of his later years will most associate with him, was the utter unselfishness of his disposition, and that atmosphere of gentle kindness to all around him, in which he con- stantly lived, and which nothing ever disturbed. This love was manifested in every-day life, not merely by the total absence of all envy, detraction, hard speeches, and harsh judgments, but also in a sensitive consider- ateness for the wishes of others, and a habitual watch- fulness to please without ever being obtrusive. Is there a single friend of his who can hear his name mentioned without also remembering the countenance beaming with affection ; the hearty grasp of the hand at meeting or parting ; and the quickened step and often warm embrace, which marked the ending of longer periods of separation I He was, even then, known as one of the most cheerful, humble-minded, sincere, and loveable of men. It was during his residence in Glasgow, in the spring of 1838, that he partook, for the first time, of the Lord's Supper. He attended the ministry of the Rev. Dr. Duncan, at present Professor of Hebrew in the New College of Edinburgh, then the minister of Milton Chapel, Qlasgow, who ever after was one of his most valued friends. He communicated his intention to his mother in the following letter ; — * Glasgow, March 28, 1838. * The sacrament of the Lord's Supper is to be com- memorated here towards the beginning of April, and I feel it my duty, and oh ! that I could say from the i: I HjifU lii 8 Memorials of heart, I feel it my privilege to come forward to the table in obedience to our Redeemer's command — " Do this in remembrance of me." I feel that all who profess to be followers of Christ, and who have arrived at the years of discretion, ought \.o prepare to come to this ordinance; for how, if I am unprepared and unfit to drink of the wine at the communion-table on earth, can I expect and be permitted and prepared to drink it fresh in the kingdom of heaven, were I to be called away this moment ? The banquet is spread for sinners; and were I to wait till I had attained some righteousness or grace of my own, to entitle me to come, I would hold back for ever. To come trusting to any one grace or act of self- righteousness for acceptance, were equally sinful and equally liable to the awful curse, as to come with un- washen hands, and to eat and drink unworthily. May God of His infinite and free grace grant that I may be enabled to come, having washed my hands in the in- nocency, not of the law, but of Christ's righteousness, received and applied for my justification through faith, looking on sanctification not as thegrotmdof my coming, but as one of the benefits to be derived from it — to come with His Holy Spirit (which is to be received through prayer for Christ's sake) working in me sorrow for sin, and desires after holiness ; and that I may be enabled henceforth "to walk not after the .flesh, but after the Spirit ! " ' This public profession of his faith was preceded by a great change of mind in regard to spiritual things. The following extract from his diary* narrates his past history * This Diary, begun in June 1838, is continued to the last year of his life, and with the exception of a portion of 1839, the events of every day are minutely recorded. John Mackintosh. DC ut up to this period. It was written at Geddes, in the autumn of 1838. * Sept. 30, Sunday. — This is the last Sabbath which, this year at least, I am to spend here, and as i may not have another opportunity of noting down a few reflec- tions upon this era of my leaving the country, I now do so. Let me meditate on the Lord's gracious dealings with me as far back as I can retrace them. As a child, when just entering on boyhood, I appear to have been most unamiable and vicious to a degree when thwarted in anything, yet perhaps tender-hearted and fond of those who showed me kindness. At the age of six or seven I remember having had some religious impres- sions, feeling a desire to be a good and a holy man ; and, strange to say, though I had read no missionary memoir, and had heard very little upon that subject, I have a confused recollection of wishing to become one in after life. I had also many thoughts of heaven, and longed for the certainty of going there at last, deeming the attainment of this sure hope, however, impossible. Sometimes I even dreamed I was there, and took it as a favourable sign; and frequently, a few years after- wards, when these impressions had worn off — though the desire of escaping hell was naturally still strong — I used to look back upon these early feelings, thinking with much comfort, that him whom God hath once loved. He will love unto the end. At this time I was attending a public school in Edinburgh, under a very strict teacher (now, alas ! departed) where I was distin- guished by a very close but specious attention and sobriety of deportment during school hours, dictated by a slavish fear, and carried to an extreme length. At the age of eight I entered the lowest class of the PMin- u 1 lO Memorials of burgh Academy, again under a very strict teacher, where my attention and staid behaviour continued, with this difference, that the former was now unfeigned, and was kept up at home as well as in school This secured my gradual rise to the head of a class of sixty or seventy pupils ; and through the gradation of seven classes, the same qualities procured me the same honourable place. For five years of this large period of life my brother accompanied me side by side, but in the fifth he left, and since then I have pursued my studies alone. In the sixth year my lamented teacher died; but in the seventh and last year of my academical career, the most important circumstance took place, the effects of which 1 trust will be felt by me throughout eternity. Here for the present I must end. May the Lord make me grateful for his many mercies V God was surely with him, and teaching him in those early years, though as yet he knew it not. What he says, however, regarding his temper in boyhood is not exaggerated. It was naturally quick, and sud- denly flashed into a blaze when excited, especially by any act of injustice or unkindness; but so com- pletely subdued by the grace of God was it in after years, that we are persuaded his most intimate friends who were not acquainted with him in early life, will hardly believe that his meek and gentle nature had the capacity even of being roused to vehement emotion. Alluding to this period of his spiritual history on his deathbed, he said, * I used, when in the Academy, to try and satisfy my heart and find rest in scholarship and classical honours, but it would not do — Christ alone could give me peace. Halley became my tutor, and gave me Baxter's Saints' Rest; and that first made me yolin Mackintosh, II )n. think. When I went to Glasgow, William Burns, then my tutor, gave me a great hitch. But Denniston first showed to me the freeness of the gospel.' During the summer and autumn of 1838, which were spent at Geddes, his hours of study were occupied by Greek and Latin, and by general preparation for his winter's course at College, along with history, religious biography, and a few treatises on practical theology. He amused himself with walking, riding, shooting, and enjoying society in the evening. But never before was he so occupied as now in working out his own salvation with fear and trembling ; and never did he possess so much real peace of heart. The journal of each day marks the conscientious earnestness with which he en- deavoured to know and to obey the will of God — accompanied perhaps by a too minute and almost morbid self-inspection, which was more natural than wholesome. I begin with his first entry : — ^ June 21, 1838. — To-day felt somewhat moved in prayer by a sense of God's grace ; ihe trame, however, was soon over; in devotional reading was remiss and unsettled. All my religious duties clearly show that I have not yet attained a habitual sense of God's omni- presence. O for greater inclination and strength to serve Him with my whole heart ! '' lune 24, Sufiday. — When shall I- be enabled to pass the Lord's day in the Spirit ! In general, how cold and formal has my frame been, and how transient the occa- sional gleams of sunshine ! In church, felt not that it was none other than the gate of heaven. Have had little experience in argument till lately ; but find that I am prone to be self-conceited, stubborn, and hasty in forming a decision. This must be watched against. 12 Memorials of How excellent the advice of Wilcox : " Measure not thy graces by others' attainments, but by the Scripture ;" for in comparison with the ungodly around, I am apt to think well of myself, till a sight of Christ and holiness reveals me a loathsome worm. Read in Henry Martyn, and Booth's Reign of Grace; the latter, next to the Bible, is the best and simplest book I have yet sefn for a startled sinner, whose first impulse is generally to run to works instead of Christ. May every Sabbath be a stage nearer to the heavenly bourne ; and may I acquire a more powerful stimulus the nearer I approach. ''June 26. — No moral improvement. Would that I could obey the command : " Let each esteem others better than himself." Sensitive and impatient of the failings of others, forgetful of my own. When shall I be truly humble ? — When I know Christ better, " who, be- ing in the form of God, thought it not robbery," etc., " but made himself of no reputation." ' This was a month in his life memorable to him, inas- much as he now, after much thought and prayer, resolved to dedicate himself to the holy ministry as his future profession. His own Diaries will best explain his views and feelings at this time. ''June 28. — Returning home along with my father, took the opportunity of broaching a subject which has for some time been pressing me — my future profession in life, if spared. He is much bent on my following the law, to which he has dedicated me for many years. If I do so, Oxford (a place by anticipation dear to my heart !) and perhaps worldly honour await me. Within myself, however, I think the ministry is the profession in which I could lay myself out best with heart and soul, and which, on my deathbed, would afford ine yohn Mackintosh. n most comfort. This would crush my Oxford hopes, and those of worldly success — which I would fain say I dis- regard, but know too little of my carnal and deceitful heart to do so — besides disappointing the expectations of many of my friends. But it must be decided soon, and is already fixed in the eternal decrees of God. Would that the love of Christ and zeal for his glory were so increased that they might, like the sword of the bar- barian conqueror of Rome, easily decide the scale. *^June 29. — Nothing more determined with regard to my future prospects ; but it must be done with promptitude, as steps must be taken immediately, according to my de- cision. There is but one friend I know whom I would consider an impartial adviser, and he is far distant. I must, therefore, look to the Lord as my guide, for " if we commit our ways " to him, he has promised to direct us. '^June 30. — Spoke of the ministry to-night, and hope the balance in favour of it is preponderating. To-morrow is the Sabbath. O for watchfulness to commence a new week well ! If that day is passed carelessly, how can I expect the following six to be otherwise ! May I receive grace to obey, in some measure, Isaiah Iviii. 13. '■July 2. — To-day peculiarly unsettled in thought. My principles are now to stand a test. May they come out from the trial purified and refined. Felt very gloomy and heartless at my future prospects, and did not immediately resort to the admonition, " If any man be afflicted, let him pray." My studies seemed to have lost all their relish, and my own position to have sunk. This clearly proves, that though professedly I do all to the glory of God, there are other more powerful motives lurking beneath — man-pleasing and worldly ambition. . . Oh ! then, let me pray that self may be wholly extracted Ill i 14 Memorials of from all I do, and that henceforth I may live to Him that died for me ! May my heart be convinced that it is a reasonable service ! ^July 4. — Came to a determination, after prayer for guidance, to choose the ministry. The disappointment it must occasion my father almost unnerved me, not that he by any means dislikes the profession, but having my welfare in life at heart, he fears for my success in a line where getting an appointment is now so uncertain. But if I have been called of God, He will provide for me. Communicated my resolution to him, and steps will accordingly be taken. What a solemn prospect ! I can hardly bring myself to believe I have undertaken it. What need of improvement ! God grant my determina- tions may become more fixed daily, and that grace and peace may be given me. Probably, from dwelling too much in thought on the Spirit's office in the heart, ha^i^e become vexed and unable to prosecute the business I may have in hand, from my thoughts continually recur- ring to it. May I be enabled to overcome this, or it may become a confirmed habit. '■July 5, — Frequently depressed on thinking of the future. O for more faith, and its kindred grace — hope. May I increase in love and gratitude to my Redeemer, that so I may account the devoting of my body " a living sacrifice" to Him, as indeed my "reasonable service." There is a harder struggle between the flesh and the spirit in so doing than I expected ; for sometimes my resolution seemed immovable, and my heart fairly weaned from worldly ambition, and set upon the heavenly crown ; and yet I feel assured and encouraged by the thought, that in the end I will rejoice that I have been led to choose the sacred office. . i [( \- k yohn Mackhitosk. 15 >» le [y [y [y le *July II. — To-day an answer arrived to a letter which my father had written to Edinburgh immediately on my communicating my determination to him. How different from what I expected ! All friends there pleased. What cause for gratitude to God ! Oxford hopes, too, revived. Well, if I can go there conscien- tiously, and God sees fit, it may tend to render me more useful in Kis service. But into His hands I desire to commit it In the meantime, I thirst for the internal encouragement of growth in grace, while matters exter- nally look so promising.' And thus his future profession was decided. The decision was one which never gave him any sorrow, but much joy, during life, and afforded him, as he anti- cipated, comfort on his deathbed. A few more extracts from his Diary will bring this period of his life to a close : — ''July 15. — Rose early, and read in Psalms. Finished the Memoir of Henry Martjoi. Felt grieved that it was done. What an exalted, lovely Christian ! Doubtless he is now in bliss, reaping the fruit of his trials and labours. It is impossible not to love him, and yet he was but a faint reflection of the centre of all holiness, meekness, and grace — Jesus. Surely, then, were I to meditate more on His character, and read more care- fully the sacred account of His life and labours, under the Spirit's influence, it would be impossible not to love Him. *■ July 20. — The natural heart still sets its affections on things below. Of this I have had experience this very day; and before the evil is cured, I shall have, alas ! much more. But into God's hands I commit myself O that He would increase my love to Him HCSHBBIIiai i6 Memorials of and to His service; empty me of self; fill me with Christ ; that so, living to Him alone, I may have no inducement to seek "my own" things. Thus will I fall asleep in peace in God's appointed time, and awake to the enduring reward. ^July 23. — Rode for two hours. Enjoyed a sweet confidence in God. Spoke with Kate, during my ride, of love to Christ, and the pervading end we ought to have in view in all we do — His glory. Read in Brainerd. ''July 24. — Much time is too often unnecessarily wasted in the morning between waking and dressing. This arises from slothfulness, against which I must guard. As I had the prospect of being engaged all day from home, spent an hour in devotional exercises before breakfast. Tlien started for Inverness. '■July 25. — Greek study vigorous ; yet I think I ought to be far more docius utriusque lingua than I am. At twelve, resolved, in consideration of my spiritual dead- ness, to spend my remaining study hours in reading of the Scriptures with prayer, till two. I long for an abiding sense of my own vileness, that thus I may be filled with Christ, for I am proud, impatient and selfish, to a fearful degree. '■July 26. — Had a nearer and more clear view of Christ than ever before ; tasted of His goodness, but oh ! of how short duration was the communion ! What must heaven be, where His love is felt without cessation ! ^July 29, Sunday. — Read in Hebrews. Then in Durham. In prayer, was enabled to feel somewhat of my own nothingness, and Christ's fulness. They onl)' who wait upon God can expect an answer to theb.' petitions. Read Brainerd. Holy man ! yet his natural I yohn Mackintosh. 17 )f I lit temperament appears to have rendered him more frequently melancholy and depressed than such Chris- tians as H. Martyn, who seem seldom to have had a humbling view of their sinfulness without at the same time feeling cheered by the thought of the covenant of grace. * August 5, Sunday. — It is a strait and a steep road to sanctification. Blessed be God, that He forbears with such an offender. Can such a worm ever be made holy ? Yes, for Christ's sake. O may the work make more rapid progress ; and may the Lord enable me to keep with watchfulness my own vineyard, lest, if He please to appoint me to the charge of others, I myself be found a castaway. ^August 8. — Began to meditate on the vanity of all earthly things, unless God have a share in them. Con» sidered first the worthlessness of human acquirement* unless pursued with a single eye to God's glory. Still squander much time, especially during study; this is very bad, after the discipline in that point I have for many years undergone. Again, in humble trust on Divine help, I would resolve to live wholly to Christ This would have saved me from the jealousy I felt to- day, on hearing I was surpassed in ability by another. Surely I know that all natural talent is God's gift \ and that, therefore, whether mine is great or small, I have no reason either to boast or complain, but only to seek to husband it to the best advantage in my Master's service, though it be but one. ' August 25, Saturday. — This day has, I trust, been appointed for good ; many things having occurred throughout to humble my naturally proud heart. O may I be led to make a friend of Him who sticketh B i8 Memorials of m ■•<■■ closer than a brother, who despiseth not even the mean- est that cast themselves on His mercy. How base has been my conduct of late toward Him who gave up His life for me; surely I am too black with sin to be per- mitted to cumber the earth, for I have been a reproach to the cause of Christ by my selfish and vain walk and conversation. But God's ways are not as our ways, and He is (amazing forbearance and love !) waiting to be gracious, and to receive back His prodigal son. O may I not be deceiving myself, but do Thou give me the evi- dence of my adoption, by bringing me to rest in Jesus — " Say unto my soul, I am thy salvation." Lord, prepare me for the Sabbath ; may it be a foretaste of that rest which remaineth for Thy people. ^August 30, Thursday. — I fear I am not paying at- tention enough to my health ; that is, it is not so good as it should be after so long a stay in the country \ this is observable more from looks and from indigestion, than in any actual feeling. I must, therefore (as the in cor- pore sano is no small requisite for the mens sand) endeavour to take more exercise and out-of-doors re- laxation than hitherto, and make up the loss to study by more intense labour while engaged in it. May I do this from a single eye to God's glory, which may be essen- tially promoted by my doing my utmost, as far as human means go, to preserve my health. May it give rise to no slothful habits ! Lord, accompany it with Thy blessing, doing with Thy servant as seemeth to Thee good. ''Sept. 22, Saturday. — Much unwatchfulness through- out the day — how prejudicial to growth in grace ! how injurious to the cause of Christ, which may be furthered even by the least of His professing followers.' The winter of 183839 was spent, as I have before yohn Mackintosh, 19 re- by this ;en- iian no eel )re said, in Glasgow ; where he again Hved in the family of Dr. Macleod, and was enrolled as a student in the Greek and Logic Classes of the University. Nothing of any peculiar interest marked this winter's career. He began to teach a class in a Sunday-school ; an occupation in which he ever after engaged with peculiar pleasure, when he had an opportunity of engaging in it ; and of the importance and responsibility of whose duties he was profoundly convinc ed. He says — *y<2«. 13, 1839. — Sunday morning, to Milton (Dr. Duncan's) ; afternoon, to St. Columba (Dr. Macleod's) ; evening, to teach class ; it consists of nine or ten, vary- ing from six to ten years of age — a very difficult task from the extreme youth of the children, and fatiguing, though pleasant. " Cast thy bread upon the waters, and thou shalt find it after many days !" Let this be my encouragement. The management of it will require scrae thought and much prayer.' And often was it made the subject of his prayers and thanksgivings ! On his birth-day (January 9), he writes : * This day I am seventeen. It is about two years since I began to think seriously of religion. I trust I have made pro- gress ; but alas ! how small compared with my oppor- tunities ! God be praised for His goodness to me in the past ! May his loving-kindness continue, and may I daily make growth in every grace.' . . . ' Opportunities occur for my saying a word for Jesus, yet I am unpre- pared and unable to speak ! Enable me to walk more closely with Thee, O Lord.' He attended as often as possible the prayer-meeting of the College Missionary Association along with his friends Burns and Denniston, and derived much good from those meetings. In his last Glasgow Diary, he says — \ Hi 20 Memorials of ' April 27. — Prizes voted. I first prize in Greek Class, on senior side ; and first prize also in the Log?c Class. ^ May I. — Prizes delivered. Off at four. Sad part- ing ! the only thing makes me leave Glasgow with regret is parting with Dr. Macleod and his dear family.* I may add, that the regret was as deep and sincere in the family which he left, when parting from their dear inmate. On the top of the coach, he composed verses to those he left behind, full of that ardent love which in him 'never failed* Hi i:i John Mackintosh, %\ Hass, ISS. part- egret re in dear erses ch in CHAPTER IL t839-4i— Spiritual Decay — Winter in Edinburgh 1840-41— Accompanies Pro- fcMor Forbes to the Continent — Diary of Tour — Geddes — Love of Metliod— Habits of Devotion — Ailments. His Studies in Glasgow were now over. The summer and autumn of 1839 were spent at home, and the winter of 1839-40 in Edinburgh, where he at- tended the classes of Moral Philosophy and Mathema- tics in the University. His Diaries of this time present a striking contrast to those of every other. The only events briefly and hurriedly noted in them during the days of summer and autumn, are fishings, shootings, and pleasant festivities at home or among the families in the neighbourhood. These were followed up in Edinburgh by a life of idleness and gaiety, so that the history of his winter's career is recorded in one single page, of which dinner-parties, balls, and the theatre are the only features. The summer and autumn of 1840, again spent at home, were much the same in their outer and inner history as those of the previous year; and not till he resumes his College work in Edinburgh in the winter of 1841, does the better and the higher life again appear as it had been before, and continued 22 Memorials of uninterruptedly ever after, until it ended in perfect life above. During this long period, he had not fallen indeed into gross outward sins, or given up the ' form of godli- ness,' but nevertheless he was gradually losing confi- dence in God, and seeking more and more to find his life in those things which were *not of the Father.* Such summer recreation as was given him after his severe Glasgow winter of mental study and spiritual conflicts, was what he most needed, as being best fitted to re-create health and freshness in mind and body. He had abundance of time for reading and thought, relieved by the loving and cheering influences of domestic and family life. He could stroll with his fishing-rod along the banks of a romantic stream, or the shores of a moun- tain loch, and have good shooting among the cover on the breezy uplands or across the wild moorlands. These were gifts from God designed for his good. But such reactions of free life and joyous social intercourse at home and in the neighbourhood, seemed to have been far too much for him at the time. The natural man, with its strong emotions and keen sympathies, enjoyed them so intensely, that the spiritual man, yet weak and tottering, was thrown as it were off its balance. For so it is, that the very same things which become to us a source of good and happiness, when received in a right spirit, as given from Christ, and when enjoyed in such a measure and in such a way as He wills, may in another state of our inward being, and in a different stage of our mental history, be received by us in such a spirit as may make them evil to us — feeding only life in self and alienating us trom *the life of God.' It is thus with the soul as with a plant ; the very same outward 11 w man, ioyed and For us a [right ich a ►ther our It as Iself Ithus ard John Mackintosh, ^3 elements of light and darkness, calm and storm, sun- shine and rain, which nourish it when alive, growing and producing its leaves and flowers of beauty, become also the means of turning it, when dead, into corrup- tion. The excitements of society into which he was thrown thus gradually entangled him. He became careless in his private devotions, and ceased to 'live by faith in the Son of God.' He felt more and more unhappy, habitually clung to outward things for peace, and ever and anon, in distress of mind, cried ' out of the depths' for pardon ; until Christ became more a deliverer from future punishment than a deliverer also from present evil, the bestower of every real good, and the sustainer of a true life that ''n up to them, could enjoy them, they are in the end unsatisfy- ing, and compared with the purer and healthier joys of a stricter walk, much inferior. I therefore shake hands with them, and propose for the future, in divine strength, to devote myself anew to a holy life, from the lowest motives of prudence, up to those of diviner and more disinterested origin, which I trust may even now be found in my heart, and will continue to gain strength. I de- sire to abstain from partaking in or countenancing known sin, as also from thoughtless speech, and acts of doubt- ful propriety-^as theatre-going, ball-going, etc. ; and, in opposition to these, to persevere more in the means of grace. The task is difficult ; it must be a work. Too yohn Mackintosh. 27 long have I backslidden, I may say in sincerity, " Faci- lis descensus ; at revocare gradum, hoc opus." May God, who I trust has put this into my heart, enable me to perform.' When leaving College, he asks himself the question, * Why is it that for the first time these ten years I have received no honours V * Alas !' he says in reply, ' my past Journal explains it. It must if possible be compen- sated for in future. I have not done my duty to myself, my friends, or my old interested teachers.' After taking a short excursion to Loch Lomond, he returned home to Geddes, and again the same routine during the summer and autumn (of 1840) of amusements and excitements every day ; but with great compara- tive deadness as to spiritual things. A visit of a day or two which he paid in August to his friend Halley, who was then in Glasgow on his dying bed, to whom he was so much attached, and from whom he had received so much good, while it showed the warmth of his affection, does not seem to have been the means of rousing him effectually fr^ a his lethargy. Immediately before going to Glasgow, he writes : — * Thursday, July 30. — In forenoon reading, struck with thoughts of my neglect of God ; and the manner in which I have occasionally been resolving to lead a more correct life, without resolving on an entire surrender of myself to God. Religion must be everything, or nothing. Therefore, seeking to strive, yet depend on God's grace, I have undertaken a godly life.' After his return to Geddes in October, he again says : — * Wednesday, Oct. 14. — At home writing to Halley, etc. Happened to glance through my old journals, and rejoice I have kept them. How extraordinary they are ; con- II ' If .-i I) J; 28 Memorials of trasts strong as night and day ! Here the most sincere (I in my heart believe sincere) expressions of fervent and for me exalted piety ; there a total change — a thorough worldling in thought, word, and deed — suddenly reso- lutions of amendment ; but, alas ! a partial backsliding again, in which state, I fear, I in some degree still remain. So metamorphosed did I feel that I appeared to be read- ing the journal of another, and passing impartial judg- ment on it Scarce a thought or feeling now the same. However, I do find now in my heart a strong yearning to return to my rest, in humble dependence on Jesus Christ. *^ Saturday ^ Oct. 17.— Alas ! the time of my departure draws nigh. Struggle in ray heart between the world and holiness depresses me. In the former I could drink deep of its pleasures, which have their charm; but reason — though alas ! at present, not inclination — leads me to desire the latter. May God have mercy on me.' He resumed his studies in Edinburgh early in Novem- ber, as a student of the Mathematical and Natural Philosophy Classes; and never again does there ap- pear in the conscientious record of his hfe a trace of * departure from the living God.' This winter was one of growth in grace, labours ot love, vigorous study, and peace of mind. He then attended and enjoyed the ministry of Dr. Candlish. Every Sabbath morning and evening he taught a class in his Sabbath-school : * earnestly preparing for his work, and desiring to have a deep sense of his responsi- bility for these souls, whom " he committed to Christ." ' * May, God,* he prays, * choose some of them for his sheep.* He began also family worship in his lodgings ; yohn Mackintosh. 29 attended a prayer-meeting, and meetings of the Students' Missionary Society, and was also a monthly visitor of the pensioners of the Indigent Sick Society; and all these acts of the life without, strengthened the life within. Remembering the past, he says — ''Jan. II, 1 84 1. — Letter from mother. Reminded by letter that Saturday was birthday, 19. My last year has been sadly misspent, more than any preceding, consider- ing my opportunities. Dissipation, worldliness, extrava- gance, and almost uniform forgetfulne^s of God mark it throughout. Add, too, disobedience to parents. May my sin be washed out in Christ's blood, and may I be enabled to return to my rest in God ! Since I came here I have been recovering, I think.' More than once he returns to the same period of his backsliding, and is conscious of his danger ; and labours aiid prays earnestly to be kept from falling. ''Jan. 22. — Often depressed partly by my backwardness in studies ; yet how good for me, as bringing me nearer to God, and leading me to labour solely for Him, com- mitting the results without any fear into His hands ! I dread a decline when my present mode of life ceases, and I am again exposed in society to temptations. My fall is certain if I trust myself, or ever relax religious meditation and reading. God grant this may nevei again occur ! rather sacrifice everything than my peace and rest in Him.' In tlie month of March he heard the intelligence ot Mr. Halley's death : — * Thursday^ March 18. — Received tidings of Mr. Hal- ley's death, long expected, but heavy to me ; inasmuch as my dearest friend on earth has departed, and one whom I regard as my spiritual father, having first awak* lit I 30 3Temorials of ened in me serioufs impressions of religion. It seems wonderful that his great attainments, dedicated to Christ, have been thus cut off; but His ways are not as our ways, and he has been taken to the heavenly rest. Just a week since he wrote me — cheerful and vigorous in mind ; now he is singing the song of the redeemed in Christ's presence. May I live, realizing that state — a pilgrim, wholly to Christ. May I have his presence here, and be made meet for the inheritance above ! May his sorrowing relations be comforted ! * So ends another volume of diary, from leaving Glas- gow to nearly end of second winter in Edinburgh, re- cording much that is bad ; I trust the next shall, through God's help, be stained with no backslidings. Amen.' The following were now his hours of study : — * Rise at six, read Scriptures to seven and a half; study to nine ; then breakfast, College, walk, etc., to three ; study three to four ; meditation, etc., four to five ; dine, and light reading, five to six ; six to eight study ; eight to nine, tea, etc. ; nine to ten, study ; then, ten to eleven, prayers and to bed.' It was during this winter in Edinburgh, and while attending the class of Natural Philosophy, that he had the happiness of becoming acquainted with Professor James Forbes ; and, among his many friends, there were none for whom he entertained a deeper and more lasting affection. In the spring of 184 1, he was invited by the Professor to accompany him on one of his geological rambles through the magnificent Island of Arran. An excellent pedestrian, passionately fond of scenery, eager to acquire knowledge, he gladly accepted the invitation to follow puch a guide, and heartily did he enjoy his ramble. The John MacMfitosh, 3» low :he Professor, having thus proved the capabilities of his companion, again very kindly asked him to join him in a more distant expedition to the south of France, to geologize, learn French, and prosecute Elementary Mathematics for Cambridge. An offer in every respect so congenial to his tastes, was gladly accepted. He had, until now, never penetrated farther south than, on a fishing excursion the previous year, to Gala Water, from whose banks he had seen with delight the far-off Cheviots. And now to visit London and cross . the Channel to Paris, and travel into the unknown and yet well-known scenes of southern France, with eveiy hope of taking Switzerland on the way home, was an enchant- ing prospect ! All things being arranged, he left Edin- burgh on the last day of May, and, arriving in London, thoroughly enjoyed all its 'sights,' from the Houses of Parliament to the Diorama in Regent's Park. After a nm to Cambridge, the scene of his future labours, which, he says, 'took his heart at first sight,' he returned to London, joined Professor Forbes, and with him coached it to Dover. 'Here I am,' he says when landing in France, ' fairly landed \ I who have been so long pent up in Scotland, being now in my twentieth year. I trust my mind may be opened and strengthened by this tour, so that it may redound to God's glor)'.' In Paris, he was introduced to the world of art, which from that day became to him as the gift of a new sense. Good music he had known from his infancy; but great paintings he had never seen till now, and the effects of this glorious vision, when it first flashes upon the mind, they alone can tell who have experienced it. But Paris was soon left, and Lyons, the arrowy Rhone, and the sunny south reached. The district of country through 32 Meiiprials of \V which they journeyed, included the Departments of the Ard^he and Auvergne, and is one of the most pictur- esque in landscape, as well as remarkable in the field of geology. Of singular fertility and beauty, its chiet interest lies in the history — which is clearly written, as with * a pen of iron on the rocks for ever' — of a remote and distant age long antecedent to the creation of man, when fresh-water lakes once dotted the surface of the land, on whose banks huge mammalia roamed, of forms now unknown ; and of a later but still far distant period, when those lakes were elevated by subterranean forces into platforms of dry land, while other lakes took their place, and other kinds and races of animals tenanted the land and water ; and when at last volcanoes, long extinct, became active, and poured forth their lava streams, damming up rivers, covering and preserving old deposits, forming precipitous and basaltic ranges, and, witii new-formed mountains and valleys, altering the whole face of the country. Professor Forbes, having visited the district before, was familiar with every spot, and was able to guide his young friend to its picturesque beauties, and to reveal to him its geological treasures. Their route from Lyons was by steamer to Valence — one of the most superb river-scenes in the world — thence to Privas, Aubenas, and Thueys, in the Ardeche, and by Langogne and Mende in the Lozfere, to the summit of the famous Plomb de Cantal, and by Le Puy to Lyons. One or two extracts from his brief journal of this tour may be given, as it is one to which he always looked back with peculiar pleasure : — * Thursday, June 17. — By steamboat, on Saone, for Lyons, at eight Lovely sail as we advanced. Boat, the Hirondelle (or, as our sailors christened it, " Iron John Mackintosh, Zl the he It, >n devil "), excellent. The Saone is a broad, deep, and in some places rapid river, ornamented with frequent sus- pension bridges : even these do not withstand its occa- sional inundations. Many pretty villages line its banks, where traces of the south become manifest — flat roofs, yellow tiles, Venetian blinds. The people too appear primitive in dress, certainly ; several of the women's head -pieces were very singular — round hood, flat brims, with the smallest possible chimney stuck upon them. A handsome Provengal came on board with his guitar — a fine troubadour-looking fellow, with dark Italian eyes, flowing jet ringlets, etc. Arrived at Lyons by one. Some of our companions of the Diligence have accom- panied us thus far : two Irish gentlemen, whom I found to be Professors of Theology at Maynooth, conducting to the College at Rome a raw Irish youth of twenty, who had never been from home before, and by his own inclination never would have been. Nothing he had seen did he remember or wish to remember ; and the thought of Rome made him sick at heart. What a sin- gular compound of potatoes and butter-milk his mind must be 1 an embryo priest too ! Poor lad ! it will be difficult, however, to instil guile into him. The course at the College of Rome is five years. * FrivaSy Sunday, June 20. — After long sleep, rose: at half-past eleven to Protestant Church — a modest building at the top of the street towards Aubenas. How refreshing the sight ! several hundreds of respectable and interesting-looking people, mun as well as women — a rare sight in the Popish chapels I have entered. Some soldiers too. After an assistant had read the Scriptures, and psalms had been sung, the minister, a devout intelligent -looking man, of about thirty, entered c I: 1 i 34 Memorials of the pulpit, and, with his prayers and address, which I partially followed, was much pleased. The people appeared attentive. On either side of the pulpit were printed texts of Scripture, principally directed against Popery, and very significantly ending with that : "Blessed are they that are persecuted for righteousness' sake," etc. ; not that Government is intolerant, for wherever a sufficient congregation can be raised, a minister is sup- ported by the State ; but the private, and perhaps more harassing, persecution is by the Papist population. The sight so unexpected, and the psalm tune familiar to my ears, quite overpowered me, perhaps with joy that the true gospel prevailed there, and possibly also as remind- ing me of home. * Thursday^ June 24. — After breakfast crossed the Ardeche. Professor took sketch from a picturesque little house half-way up the hill. I bathed near the bridge. The lava cut, probably the work of the stream, is very, very fine. Returned home by some stairs formed out of the natural basaltic columns, called here " les ^chelles du roi " — very remarkable. Paused long to admire and meditate on the beautiful landscape be- fore me, the luxuriant growth of chestnuts, walnuts, and other trees ; the harvest, in little patches, already ripe ; the hay -making diffusing old familiar fragrance, the little gardens of vines and vegetables courting the shade more than the sun, and irrigated by gushing rippling sluices that gave a freshness to the earth, and indeed to the whole scene ; the stupendous walls of lava, carrying the thoughts back to oldest times, and overhead " the witchery of the soft blue sky " — a sky of southern soft- ness. Such is a faint catalogue of th " thousand beauties of these valleys ; so far as I am aware, little known ; yohn Mackintosh, S5 and so far as selfishness is concerned, long may they remain so. After dinner, walked with Professor to ex- amine the volcanic crater, and the direction and spread of its stream.* After thus spending a month of rare enjoyment, he parted from the Professor to return home by the Alps, Geneva, and the Rhine. He then records his parting with his friend, which I cannot help quoting : — * Sunday, July i8. — He (Professor Forbes) accom- panied me for some miles up the hill, commanding a noble view of the Is^re, then bade me God-speed, kissed, and departed to return to Grenoble, and thence, by Aug. 12, make for the Grimsel with Mr. Heath to meet Agassiz, and study the glaciers. I, with a bursting heart, proceeded on my lonely way, committing myself and him to God in prayer, and endeavouring to direct my thoughts heavenward. His kindness to me makes me ashamed of my poor return, and my great deficien- cies as a companion ; having been, I fear, very selfish, taciturn, and foolish in my remarks. I trust I have de- rived benefit from his company, on the other hand; having seen an example in his indefatigable energy, his exactness of observation, and acuteness of remark ; and, as a traveller, his patience under vexations, his total want of selfishness, and his universal kindness of heart God grant that our love may be cemented in Christ Jesus, and that we may both live to his glory — the only true way to avoid selfishness and every other sin. May every blessing, temporal and spiritual, be multiplied to him ! ' After parting with the Professor, he spent the night in the Convent of the Grande Chartreuse. * The Convent of the Grande Chartreuse is situated in 36 Memorials of a deep and lonely valley, surrounded by lofty and strik- ingly-formed hills of limestone. The entrance is very fine. The building is extensive and simple. I arrived by half-past seven, and was presented to the Superior, with whom I spoke for a little ; and was then conducted by a Frlre (they are divided into Plres and Frlres) into the visitors' hall, where I found a small party at supper, but did not partake. Was shown into a small but clean bedroom off the salle^ furnished with a crucifix, figure of the Virgin and Child, basin of holy water, etc. I wrote for a short time, and as it became very cold, went to bed. They would not call me at five, as I wished. * Monday^ July 19. — Not called; so slept till seven. Breakfasted on soup, ill-cooked eggs, dry fish, old bread, butter, cheese, bad wine (which I only tasted), elixir — a kind of dram which they make and sell — strong, and to me unpleasant, Alpine strawberries, figs, and apples ; among all which I contrived to make a tolerable repast. It was some time before they showed me the convent Meanwhile I made acquaintance with two young Frenchmen — one military, the other a civilian, who accompanied me. There are about sixty cells ; before the Revolution, the number was much greater. It is the largest in France entirely for monks. These have each little cells (which I could not visit) into which their frugal fare is thrust, and a little garden. On Sundays and feasts they dine together, but do not speak. They have a good library, theological, classical, and historical. The dress is of white wool, head shaved, etc. ; and it is to ,this, for which I know of no authority in Scripture or right reason, that many in England would seek to return 1 ' " Next day he proceeded on his journey to Chamouni. John Mackintosh^ 37 young who before It is ; have • which . On o not ssical, haved, thority |ngland louni. In a letter to a friend, he says — *I was by this time half deUrious. You will see whither I was whirling — to Chamouni ! The rest is as a giddy dream. I walked thither, and over a Col (called Bellevue) com- manding a view of the valley and a host of glaciers, with the Arve raving at my feet ; then descended in the evening, visiting a lovely glacier by the way ; next day, with a party of various foreigners, I walked over the Mer de Glace until we reached the Jardin^ returning late at night to Chamouni The day following, I walked to Geneva, not less than fifty miles. On Thursday evening, Blanc and his compeers were ht up at sunset with a heavenly glow — the finest that has been seen this year.' After remaining some days in Geneva, and becoming acquainted with several of the clergy — an acquaintance soon renewed, he pursued his way homeward, enjoying the glories of the Rhine and the reminiscences of Waterloo. On landing at Granton from the steamer, he says in his Journal, ^August 9. — Arrived by nine at Granton. Good passage ; could have kissed the shores of dear Scotland ! ' The next two months were spent at Geddes, in the quiet of home. His time was, as usual, divided from morning till night. This method, in study, was not confined to the minute arrangement of time merely \ but was extended to recording, in various commonplace books, what he had read each day, month, and year, with classified memoranda of what had been acquired * and mastered thoroughly.^ This love of order amounted in him almost to a tyranny, against which he would sometimes rebel, but in whose iron rule he felt soon compelled by his temperament to acquiesce. With all ■p l\ Rl 38 Memorials of the advantages which it conferred, he was quite alive to some of the evils which it entailed. The studies, for instance, of a whole day were often disturbed, and his temper fretted, if the work arranged for one hour was interrupted or forced into the next He acknowledged, and often lamented, the selfishness and want of con- sideration for the legitimate demands of family and friends, which were apt to be produced by his resistance to the almost unavoidable encroachments of both, upon the time otherwise disposed of by rule. It was positive suffering, the constant effort to adjust the claims of labour, which seemed to him to be imperative, with those of the home affections, which, however delightful, appeared too much akin to idleness and self-indulgence. Yet no man needed more that the rigorous exactions of the former should be softened, refreshed, and humanized by the soothing influences of the latter. And therefore home, whose very charms looked as stumbling-blocks in his way as a student, was on that very account the best place for him as a man, whose heart, as well as head, required cultivation. It would have added more to his happiness, and, humanly speaking, to his life, if he had been able to see the goodness and wisdom of Providence in such domestic arrangements, which check and modify self-will too sternly bent in carrying out its own plans and purposes, however excellent in themselves. But though no man more passionately loved home, the student carried the day, whose earthly paradise is his own room, in a University town, at home, or abroad. But there is one feature in his plan of study for every day, characteristic of his later as well as of his earlier years ; the time, namely, which was spent in devotion John Mackintosh. 39 and the study of the Holy Scriptures. Two hours in the morning — from five to seven, an hour at mid-day, half-an-hour before dinner, a short time before retiring to rest, were daily spent in Scripture and devotion. Many entries in his Diary like the following also occur, showing his earnestness : — ^ Friday j Sept. 3. — Resolved to devote till two to reading, meditation, and prayer, that, by God's blessing, my aim may be made more single in all I do.' *Sept. 9 — Rose early and resolved to dedicate till two to study of Scriptures and prayer.' *Sept. 17. — Devoted morning and forenoon to Scriptures, prayer,' etc. He now appears to have begun with greater earnest- ness to do good to others, by direct communication with them, which was by no means an easy task for one naturally so shy and sensitive. Duty, however, made it a growing habit all his life afterwards. *Sept. II. — Rode with , Endeavoured to intro- duce religion, and press it upon his attention as the ^rst business of his life, to which every other lawful occupa- tion would fit in always well as second. Pressed study of Bible as the chief thing, and its doctrines as admirably condensed in the " Confession of Faith," which I gave him. May the Spirit of God impress him ! for my tongue was that of a stammerer in Christ's service. Oh that it were more my meat and drink to draw souls to Christ in His strength ! * Sept. 12. — A few words with dear , but inter- rupted when I hoped it was tending to good. May the Lord lead her to Himself from every other false source of happiness I *SeJ>t. 19. — Evening, read to, and spoke much with , on the necessity of regeneration, and now to 40 Memorials of choose Christ. Advised daily perusal of God's Word with prayer, which alone would make any other study useful, and give depth in it, from regarding it as unto God, apart even from the cultivation of the mind, by reading, meditation, and prayer, through the Spirit. All pursuits and studies to be done in God's Spirit. I prayed with her, and recommended two hours^ at least, to be devoted to such studies. May God in His mercy draw her to Christ, and every member of the family ! ' But even amidst those sunny days at Geddes, there appear, for the first time, symptoms of sadness, which more frequently returned in after years ; and which, though seldom discovered by others, was often pain- fully experienced by himself. This was always occa- sioned, I believe, in his case, by the state of his bodily health. He became subject to attacks of dyspepsia; having, at the same time, a great dislike ever to allude to bodily ailments, or to have recourse to medical treat- ment. I do not mean to assert that such physical causes will always account for those spiritual sorrows frequently experienced by 'the servant of God, who walks in darkness, and has no light* Apart from the pain of a conscience troubled by neglect of known duty, or any departure from God, there are souls who, in their progress heavenward, and while educating for the enjoyments and employments of immortality, seem des- tined to endure conflicts and experience sorrows which cannot be accounted for by any physical causes with which we are acquainted. We doubt not there are depths, the only escape from which is di God — agonies in which the sufferer en' fi' Tt or relief but in praying * more eai I ve as yohn Mackintosh^ 41 little doubt that in many cases in which true Christians complain of the * hidings of God's countenance,' of darkness, and depression — the cause is solely physical disease : and, what is more to the purpose here to ob- serve, produced not unfrequently by an obstinate dis- regard to the will of God, as expressed in the human constitution, made up of soul and body ; and by which a certain amount of repose, relaxation, and exercise is essential to the right working of both. Let me earnestly press it upon young and ardent students, that it is a very mistaken manliness to despise the demands of the body; and no self-denial but self-indulgence, to sacrifice health and life in the pursuit of knowledge. Let me remind them that God makes them respon- sible for every talent committed to them, for short- ening those days which might have been many, and for turning those hours into darkness and distress which might have been hours of sunshine and peace. That must be no small sin in the eye of God, which is so often punished by an early death or premature old age, and which has deprived many a family of its most precious treasure, and the Church of its brightest hopes. He writes : * Monday^ Aug. 23. — My mind all day very clouded. I am in great spiritual darkness ; my mind has got hold of some difficulty with regard to repentance and faith, which I can neither grasp nor dispel ; I can only cry, " Lord, for Jesus' sake, teach me ! " and wait in patience for His guidance. I am continually trying to recover the light, but ineffectually. Thanks be unto God, I can hope in His mercy ; mean- while, my active plans are stopped, and I move lan- guidly.* Though this depression continues for some 4* Memorials of time, and though it was referred by him, as it too often is, to mere spiritual causes, yet it soon gives way to a more cheerful state of things \ and why 1 because he takes medicine and exercise. We find him accord- ingly saying, in a few days afterwards — * Felt my dead- ness much removed ; * and again, ' Rose early, and enjoyed morning reading and prayer.* Let us be assured that it is the wish of our Father that His children should 'rejoice in the Lord always,' and be kept in 'perfect peace,' through faith in His love revealed to them in Christ Jesus. Yet the more they enjoy this love and the peace which flows from it, the more must they sorrow for those who, through un- belief, shut themselves out from both. But this is a very different kind of sadness from that which is occa- sioned by their own self-willed neglect or abuse of God's gifts to body or spirit. ^ohn Mackintosh, 43 CHAPTER III. Cambridge — Joins the Free Church— The Lakes— Letter from Rev. Mr. Madden — Letter from John Shairp, Esq., Rughy. Cambridge had long been a delightful vision to John Mackintosh. He yearned to realize his dreams of study in that venerable home of learning, and there to become more thoroughly accomplished for the work of the ministry, in whatever portion of the vineyard — whether in the Scotch or English Church — he was to be occu- pied. In the summer of 1839, when at Geddes, he thus wrote about Cambridge to his friend Dalyell. While these letters are characteristic of that free and hearty intercourse in which he indulged with his intimate friends, they were written during that period I have already alluded to, when he was not living in his habitual earnestness of spirit •Geddes, June 13, 18391 *My dear Dalveli, — I was delighted to receive your letter, which I should have answered by return of post, had I not left home that very day, and have only now returned. I have been in one of the wildest parts of Inverness-shire — a very world of hills, and therefore after my own heart. I am sure I should become a " downright genuine " poet, were I to live long in such li 44 Memorials of a country. In my travels I met with a Cantab, who, on the chord being touched, raved on the theme like the rest of the alumni whom I have had the pleasure or misfortune to meet He strongly recommended me to go up October first, but dis aliter visum. Nothing you have written me of reading has astonished me, except by its ease. We might have got it up years ago. With regard to Plato, I am sorry I cannot answer your ques- tions, having been engaged hitherto in finishing a play of ^schylus, of which I had read a little before leaving Edinburgh. However, as you do not mean to read any for some time, I shall give you my report when I begin him. I am reading Kelland, and though rather ik rebrousse poil^ have better hopes of myself. Mathe- matics I shall never forswear.' TO THE SAME. * Geddes, Sept. i6, 1839^ * Thanks to a terrific day of rain, for an oppcitunity to answer my correspondents, who, thank goodness, are few and select ; for the bore of writing to one you don't care about is intolerable. There are some I should like to hear from, but who never write me a line, e.g. Shairp. I would write him an abusive letter if I knew where to find him ; but my letter might make a circuit of the kingdom before reaching him. B , too, is very lazy. What can he be going to do next winter? If he is neither going to the Continent, nor to Edinburgh, nor to Glasgow, nor to an English University, he must be going to teach a parish school, or take a sheep farm, or something of that sort Next winter my father thinks of letting his house in Edinburgh, as my brother is going to India, and it is nonsense keeping it for me Mf-K. 'John Mackintosh, 45 alone. So I expect to lodge, and mean to write to B for some insight into that new method of exist- ence ; unpleasant, I calculate, but only to last for six months. Good preparation for Cambridge too. After these six months, what visions of delight float before my eyes ! — never, I do believe, to be realized ; for, in the first place, I expect to turn out a beast at Cambridge, as I am making progress at present in no study of any one kind. Nothing but Charles O'Malley, tours in Ger- many, and such like, can I find opportunity to read. O that I was certain of being allowed to travel 1 It forms my waking and sleeping dream ; and a man who does not travel is only half a man — a cross between that biped and plum-pudding. Such a rhapsody of nonsense requires a Latin quotation : Duke est desipere in loco. With Stuart I have had no communication ; and there- fore heard by mere chance of his disaster. He is so near that I have never written him — if you understand the principle on which that goes — but shall do so this very day, and invite him here, or myself there. The British Association is this week. I wish I were going now instead of formerly. What a bustle they will be in ! the professors, I mean. I have been reading Taylor's Ancient Christianity^ and recommend it as very interest- ing and instructive. * Am improving with the gun. Heard from Halley. Still in statu quo. Write me soon, and believe me ever yours affectionately.* His winter (1840) preparation for Cambridge was more earnest than that of summer. He had by this time become alive again. In a subsequent letter to Dalyell, written from Edinburgh in November, he says ; 46 li I I Memorials of b-dge out. As for partie % "''"'"''j^^ «f«e .- never »have one .ide of our hefrTh""^ ^ "^ ''^"'^ed to operate on) to prevent th.7 ' f '"« "'' boards to I" plain ean,est, we^:'J^;j;^ ■<^^- of such a thing! -ho p1» / y /f;^ Photographic Sdences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET ^ WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 ^ % iV 1^ '^^N % .V >^ "^ ! -': ^ A. L? 74 Memorials of made him, while earnestly seeking the highest things, never neglect the lowest duties. Mr. William Bums, who was then his private tutor, greatly encouraged him in his religious endeavours ; and he used to know and often to attend the church of Dr. Duncan. I ought perhaps to add, that these high moral and religious qualities were at that time not unaccompanied by a cer- tain shade of that austereness which some think charac- teristic of religious people in Scotland. But however this may be, all his companions felt the force of his goodness. Their great love for him as a friend was mingled with deep respect, I might almost say rever- ence, for his whole character. Two sessions, two most delightful winters, we were together in Glasgow, and then came the first of May 1839. On that day our band of friends shook hands, and bade farewell to each other. They went each on his separate way, and never all met again, nor can meet now any more in this world. It was indeed a golden fellowship, much to be remem- bered by all who shared it; and none did more to sanctify and endear it than he who was among the earliest taken. , , : , * After this, I have no distinct remembrance of our meeting till the midsummer of 1843. Then, after he had taken final leave of Cambridge, before returning to Scotland, he came to visit Oxford and some of his old Glasgow friends, who were undergraduates at Balliol College. It was then I heard from himself, and for the first time, that after long deliberation, he had made up his mind to join the Free Kirk. Much had passed over both of us since we parted at Glasgow ; and you can imagine how delightful it was, after so long an inter- val, to renew our old companionship. For several days yokn Mackintosh. IS we wandered together among the Colleges and old gardens, and by the banks of the river ; and the antique air of the place seemed greatly to impress him. He noticed, I remember, some difference between under- graduate life as he had known it at Cambridge, and what he saw of it at Oxford ; and seemed to think that we were more intimate with the rest of our College than he had been with the men of his. This may have been owing to the difference between a small College like Balliol, and one so large as Trinity. At the same time, my impression is, that while there he had lived a secluded life, chiefly with a few Uke-minded friends, and never entering into the main current of College society. He seemed to think that it would have been otherwise with him, if he had been at Balliol. It might have been so, but of this I cannot judge. " The Oxford movement" was then at its height ; and he took much interest in all he saw and heard regarding it. I can remember stand- ing with him in the great square of Christ Church, to watch Pusey's spare, bowed down, surpliced form, as he returned from prayer in the Cathedral. He was pre- sent also in St Mary's on one of the last Sunday after- noons that Newman's voice was heard there or else- where as a minister of the English Church. After a few bright days we parted, and were never again so long of meeting till he last went abroad. One change, and only one, seemed to have passed over him during our long separation. The tinge of severity which I was aware of formerly, had wholly disappeared. Without losing his singleness or strength of purpose, he had grown, I thought, more gentle, more serene, more deeply loving towards all men. Ever}' time we met, up to the last, this impression was confirmed. 'IB 4 M u i ' -I ' 76 Memorials of *From this time onward, I hnd the great happiness of seeing a good deal of him, generally twice every year, at Christmas and at midsumraer. He used sometimes to visit me at my home ; but oftener I visited him in Edinburgh, or met him In your manse. During this time he was attending Dr. Chalmers's Divinity Lectures, visiting the poor in ar old town district, teaching their children, and sometimes he attended some other of the Professors. He w.%s much taken up with Dr. Chalmers, and used to tell me much about him. He loved to dwell too on his little peculiarities, some oi which greatly amused and delighted him. Our conversations during these times often turned on the things in which he was then engaged, on the difference between English and Scottish Universities, English and Scottish Theo- logy. About this time, he read a good many of New- man's parochial Sermons , and was greatly struck by his wonderful power in laying bare men's hidden char- acter; and putting his finger on the secret fault. Not that he ever inclined towards the peculiar doctrines ol Newman — from these, you know, he was always far r.nough removed ; but this did not in the least hinder him from freely opening his heart to these wonderful writings, which for depth and inwardness are perhaps unequalled in this century. I did indeed admire his rare candour, which was with him fully as much moral as intellectual. However widely a man differed in opinion or sentiment from himself, it seemed he did not care to dwell on the differences, but rather to open his mind fairly to take in whatever of good or true he had to teach. This open-mindedness in one so earnest and Dxed in his own mind, was very remarkable ; and the whole seemed so evenly balanced, that while he was not . I John Mackintosh. 77 only fair, but sympathetic towards all men, there ap-, peared no symptom of that weakness and uncertainty of thought often visible in those whose sympathies are stronger than their heads. Akin to this was his power of entering into works the ablest, and to many men the most perplexing, without harm. One summer while he was in Edinburgh, I remember he went carefully through Kant's Religion within the Limits of Reason. Few books, I imagine, would be more unsettling to most young men ; but though he read it with much attention, and seemed thoroughly to perceive its bearings, it did not seem to cast even a momentary cloud over his clear spirit. This may h.ave been, in part, no doubt, because the turn of his mind was not speculative ; but much more, I believe, because religious faith was in him no longer matter of mere opinion and discussion, but rooted there, where no reasonings of men could shake it. " * In those years, when I used to meet him in Edin- burgh or elsewhere, there are some days which stand out with peculiar vividness in my memory. One sum- mer he retired to Queensferry for a time, to combine more undisturbed study with pure air and a pleasant neighbourhood. His days were there divided between his books and solitary walks among the woods and grounds of Hopetoun and Dalmeny, enjoying the grand views they command up the Forth to the Perthshire Highlands, and downward to the German Ocean. Twice I rode over from Houston, and spent an after- noon with him. One of these times he took me into the park of Dalmeny, to a shady terrace, which was a favourite haunt of his ; and there we walked up and down for long in earnest talk. He then accompanied ■t \\ Uit. 4SII!I I: B1 m i i i^ i'^ Ir !!l 78 Memorials of me for some way on my road homeward. The thought of that evening brings strongly to mind the depth and tenderness of his sympathy for all his friends' anxieties, whether outward or inward. In freeness it was liker a woman's than a man's sympathy. And there was a healing for the griefs of others in the pureness of the mind that opened to share them. Another time we met, and whiled away part of a summer afternoon on the high pastures of Midhope, looking over the Firth of Forth. Then we made the bum our guide, and let it lead us from the open grass fields, down through its deep woody glen, past the antique house of Midhope, till it reaches the salt sea-water. Tennyson was among our other thoughts that day, and we chanted to each other that beautiful melody of his — ** Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea— Thy tribute wave u I i H II 84 Memorials of */an. 21. — At six to prayer-meeting at St. Leonards. May the Lord water our meeting, and make us a bless- ing to the district. Came home very despondent of my being able to address a meeting. The thought that I have made myself over to the Lord, and that therefore it is His concern, who can and will give me all neces- sary strength, comforted me entirely, and until I fell asleep my frame of self-renunciation continued. ^/an. 30. — Read essay at Speculative, on " Life and Writings of Samuel Johnson." Praised ; but I knew its merits better. I was much ashamed to read it before the Society. » ^ March 17, Sunday. — To-day I have had a silent Sabbath. May my visitation be blessed to me, and lead me to hold nearer communion with God, and so cultivate close intercourse with Him, through the Spirit, however numerous my studies and engagements may be. In this I have come far short of my duty this winter. ' Blessed be His name for all His mercies. I read of many cut off recently after short illness. May my life be spared for the advancement of His glory.' About this time I received from him the following characteristic note : — *9, Wemyss Place, Monday. * My dear Norman, — I yearn to see you. Shall you be at home on Thursday ? If so, expect me to break- fast. I should have been out long ago, but unfortu- nately arranged to go ^vith Baldy ; but, of course, when I could come, he couldn't, and vice versd, as always happens in such cases. I have in vain tried to see him to-day ; but if I can, shall bring him on Thursday. I think I shall one day die of suppression, if this kind of yohn Mackintosh, %% isolation goes on, with no one " like-minded " to whom I may confide joys, sorrows, and, in short, my whole souL I sometimes think it unkind of you, that you never come near me, and take no more thought of me than if I were blotted, as I deserve to be, out of exist- ence ; but I suppose I oughtn't, and you may be saying the same of me. Certainly my tendrils, which were made to entwine, are beginning to coil into themselves, so that, perhaps, the discipline may be good in convert- ing my ivy disposition into that of the oak. I don't know. * Well, I was at Glasgow last week, and have left my whole heart with the Ramsays and your mother, so that it must be bigger than I thought it was. I do envy them in Glasgow. Sorry I missed you to-day, for, on being told you were to be in town, I poked into the coach-office, and Dalkeith coaches, in quest of yoa * Don't scold me as querulous for the above ; but I have been hunting all day for some creature to lavish my affections on, and have been obliged to bring them home unsuccessful, and consume them myself But I mean to heave anchor soon, and go home. — Your affec- tionate, John.' After partaking of the communion in connexion with the congregation of his much-valued friend, the Rev. Charles Brown, he says, ' O may this season be a rally* ing-point May the Lord give me grace to cultivate closer communion with Himself. My very studies suffer instead of gaining by time which should not be given to them ; and alas ! instead of leading others in the right way, my own conversation takes the stamp of theirs. Evening, to the prayer-meeting — many there ; and tried 'i.i!i v'Xl i I' ••i 'l 11 M f! n f ' 86 Memorials of to speak on a passage from Scripture. I endeavoured to surrender myself to God, and so my anxiety vanished.* And thus the winter passed in works and labours of love, and in growth of grace ; but before it ended, he had a short and severe illness (alluded to in the above Diary), and resolved that, with spring, he should once more visit the Continent. Like an arrow springing from a bow bent to its utmost, he left Edinburgh early in April, with a light and merry heart, once more to cross the Channel. * April 17. — Sailed at three for London, neither elated nor depressed. I am becoming prematurely old, so that changes little affect me. The mercury too of my com- position is at preset low. Agreeable companion on board, who lent me M^Cheyne^s Memoirs — a feast which I devoured. O for grace to follow him, as he followed Christ ! ^ April 19. — Arrived after beautiful passage at twelve. The repose of the Thames at the Mart of Nations, and laden with their crafts, was to me most romantic, and almost oppressive. Had to remain till 's carriage arrived. • Sat on deck under a glorious sky, and read aloud Epistle of St. Peter, with meditation of Him who had brought us in safety ; and before entering London — the world epitomized. ^AprU 23. — *• Though I go CO *stamboul, Scotland holds my heart and soul." *The winter is past; one of laborious and somewhat harassing occupation, and though jaded with illness and anxiety, with a light head, and for me a heavy purse, I wend my way for a summer in Germany. In yohn Mackintosh, 87 this I believe that I am actuated by a desire to become familiar with other languages, with the customs and institutions of different nations, and especially their universities, and to receive unbroken leisure for study and meditation. In all this God may, and by His grace will be glorified. I have taken with me Butler, Leland's Deistical Writers, and other text-books in theology, which, with Hebrew, shall form my principal study. I am provided by Dr. Chalmers, Dr. Welsh, and Sir William Hamilton, with some introductions to German professors, and literati, so that I shall not be altogether friendless, if — " Sick for home^ I stand in tears amid the alien com." He remained abroad till the month of August, residing chiefly in Heidelberg, where he enrolled himself as a student with Lewald, Professor of Church History. * Ostend, April 24. — Embarked last night, as the vessel sailed at two this morning. Wrote letters to and and then retired to a broken slumber, in a choky cabin, quite full of roosters. To-day exquisite, the sea like a pond, and at four p.m. we arrived at Ostend- **Once more I tread the continental shores." *I hoped for this against hope, yet had a presentiment, when I quitted them before, it should not be for ever. No man ever wrote , quiet thoughts, undisturbed devotions, and the dweet influences of God's beautiful world, came peace to his heart ; the rage of Mrs. H. vexed him no more. Heaven and earth were seen in their true light. The hills began to sing, and the trees to clap their hands ! In September, his grandfather Mr. Jollie died at the extreme age of ninety-three. Mr. Jollie was the l>eau ideal of the thoroughly upright lawyer, with the most refined sense of honour, combined with the most affec- tionate and genial disposition. To him was intrusted the winding up of the affairs of Sir Walter Scott ; and his family gratefully preserve Sir Walter's presp tion to him of plate and of all his works, inscribed an expression of his own personal regard for him. Mr. Jollie was an unswerving adherent, till the last, of the National Church, of which he had been an elder for half a century. John loved him much. In a letter to his aunt the previous year, he says : ' Remember me to grandfather fondly. I often think still of my interest- ing interviews with him after breakfast, and how much, I believe, I learned from him.' He writes of his death to Mr. Bum Murdoch : — * September 7. * My grandfather died at a great age ; and, I trust and believe, was gathered as a ripe shock into the garner of the Lord. His death was tnily a falling asleep in Jesus, and for this we all return thanks to God amid our sorrow.' r-) yohn Mackintosh, 121 His autumn months, until October, were again spent at Geddes. By this time, his visits among the poorer families in his immediate neighbourhood, had made him acquainted with several persons with whom he was able to enjoy true Christian fellowship. These were indeed in very humble life, but yet among such poor as Christ blessed, and who are ' chosen rich in faith, and are heirs of the kingdom that God has promised to those who love Him.' His communion with such did not end when he left Geddes, for he never ceased to write to them from time to time. He thus speaks of one of them — ' Sept. 28. — Romantic walk and interview with old Saunders Rose on that marvellous moorland behind the hill ; then down upon the Black Mill, where I found them all at tea, in a clean clean room, and with a cheery wood fire. After tea, h insisted upon walking back with me, and escorted me accordingly through the black wood. His conversation was truly heavenly, and so full of primitive and patriarchal simplicity. In bidding me farewell, he said— I am thinkin* this will be the last walk we'll ha'e, Maister John, and my heart's knit till ye ; the Lord be wi' ye, and mak' ye a blessin'." My heart was like to burst, for, from his years and frailty, 'tis very likely to be his last summer. Besides, this walk and benediction has been an annual thing for many years back, and thus reminds me of bygone days — of the flight of time — and of the uncertainty of the future. Such men are indeed the salt of the earth, and to me the noblest spectacle beneath the skies ; for what are they but kings on the eve of possessing their in- heritance % — to-day the denizens of a hut, ere long high in the ranks of heaven !' Another poor but much valued friend of his was old >i 1 if. 122 Memorials of r! *■■ Widow Mackenzie, who only a few months ago has gone to her rest The following letter, though introduced here, was written to her at the beginning of the year : — * Dear Mrs. Mackenzie, — You see I have delayed to the last day you gave me, if I intended to gratify your request that I would write ; and yet, after all, I am going to send but a short letter. I shall begin by call- ing on you to join with me in praise to God, who has spared us to enter on another year, and given us so many mercies during the past on which to look back. May we not from this be confident that He is ready to be the same God to us in future, if we diligently seek him and love his name ? What a solemn season this should be when we reflect on our ingratitude and pro- vocations, on our shortcomings, on how little we have lived to God's glory, and at what a distance we have been content to dwell from him ! Blessed be his name, although he might have shut us out for ever from his communion, wherein alone is life and peace, we may yet come to-day as if we had never come before, and lay our sins on the head of the great Victim, and so be received as justified and dear children. May me Lord fill our hearts with sincere repentance for the past, and enable us by his gracious Spirit to walk more closely with himself in time to come. I hope you enjoy your usual health, and delight in reading, and that your deaf- ness is no worse. May He who has brought you from your youth, be the strength and support of your old age, and finally bear you through the swellings of Jor- dan to His everlasting kingdom. Were I seated with you by your fireside, I should read you the 71st Psalm, which you will perhaps do for yourself, thinking of me. l> t. . jfohn Mackintosh. 123 And now, my dear widow, in conclusion, let me seek an interest in your prayers, that He who alone can, may prepare me for His own service. Besides my studies, which are my chief duty at present, I have some practice in visiting and holding prayer-meetings in a neglected and poor part of the town, which I find of great spiritual benefit to myself, and which serves to show me the great requirements, chiefly of the heart, which are necessary for a minister of Christ, and which can be had through prayer alone. I often think with pleasure of my summer class of young men, and am glad to hear that they still meet. I endeavour to be with them in spirit every Sunday evening, interceding with God on their behalf Good-bye, and trusting, if it be God's will, we may meet again in summer, — I remain, your sincere friend, John Mackintosh.' eaf- om old or- ith jlm, e. Before returning to Edinburgh for the winter, he took lodgings for a month at Corstorphine ; and early in November commenced his old work in the town. The day before he left the country, he thus writes : — ' I desire anew to make myself over to Christ, body, soul, and spirit — first to be prepared for His work, and then, as now, to live entirely for Him. I desire self and all other idols to be utterly extinguished, that I may have one aim and only one interest — the advancement of Christ's cause in the world. Blessed Lord, do Thou accept me, a poor and vile worm, out of infinite mercy, and fit me to be an instrument in Thy hands. My heart is grateful to God for His mercies here. To- morrow I go into Edinburgh. May His presence go with me, that His work in my soul may be daily deefH ened instead of obliterated.' i 124 Memorials of Though his bodily health and spirits suffer as usual from his life and labours in the city, he says — * I think I am content to walk in constitutional heaviness of soul, if God wills it, and look upon it as for good. I desire to seek not my OAvn ease, but Christ's glory and service. My soul praises God for the many mercies with which I am still surrounded.' He was, however, very thankful for any release, however short, from physical or mental troubles : * To-day the cloud of biliousness and dejec- tion seems rising off my spirits, like a cloud from Hel- vellyn. I trust it is so, and will be permanent. How light I feel, how thankful and loving and ready for all work ! I trust my bearings are forward as yet, and not retrograde in the life of God.' His West Port labours were continued in all their vigour. . ' The year 1846 was closed by a visit to the north, to attend the marriage of his sister Jane, to Sir William Gordon Gumming. He was happy in being able at this time also to see much of his father, who was still in a very precarious state of health. * Each day,' he writes, * I read, talked, and prayed with him in the forenoon.' The year 1847 began by his being summoned once more to the north, by the intelligence of his father's death. Upon the 25 th January, he laid him in his grave, in Geddes churchyard, and sorrowed much for one who was a most tender, sympathizing, and loving parent, as well as a genuine ' old country gentleman.' ^ Geddes, the home of his youth, the ideal spot of his greatest earthly happiness, was to be his home no more.. He returned to Edinburgh alone to prepare a resi- * Mr. Mackintosh had been for many years the Convener of the county of Nairn. John Mackintosh. I2C dence for his mother and sister. — ' May He who has done all for me hitherto,' he writes, * look in mercy on me now, strengthen my feeble will, and enable me to cast in my lot with Him entirely and unreservedly. May I have done with the world for ever, and may I acknowledge myself a stranger on the earth. The cares of a residence for my mother, etc., press upon me, but I desire to commit them to Him in perfect l^t humble faith.' On March 17th, he presided at a large morning breakfast of upwards of a hundred students of the Free Church, to commemorate the birthday of Dr. Chalmers ; and at the request of his fellow-students, he prepared, and along with a deputation, presented an address to their venerable teacher at Momingside. After paying a short visit to his brother-in-law and sister. Captain and Mrs. Smith, then living at Temple Sowerby, near Carlisle, and taking a short tour in West- moreland, he left Edinburgh, and, along with his mother and youngest sister, took up his residence at Laurel Bank, Lasswade. Almost the first tidings which greeted him on enter- ing his new home, was the death of his beloved and venerated teacher, Dr. Chalmers. It was to him, as well as to many, a deep personal affliction. He had known him as a friend, and had a great affection for all the members of his family. ''May 30. — News of Dr. Chalmers's death — much overcome. I feel as if I had lost a second father, and the world were now too dreary. Often am I tempted to disbelieve that that voice is now " gone silent," and that mighty heart has ceased to beat. It seems like a translation.' ■s. I "tit t if:;; ^ii; '■"\ v\ V I I 126 Memorials of TO HIS AUNT, MISS JOLLIE. *Ah ! what shall I say of Chalmers'^ I dare not yet speak of him ; I have felt it almost more than my own father's death ; for words cannot tell the love I bore him, bordering on idolatry. I cannot conceive of a wiser, greater, or better man. Every part of his char- acter was colossal ; he had the heart of twenty men ; the head of twenty ; the energy of a hundred ; and then to be cut off in the vigour of all ! — I cannot but think, killed by this visit to London. He has not left his equal in the world. For the present I am stunned by it ; and yet we must not murmur or repine. How pro- vidential ! — he died at home, among his own people, and on such an anniversary, having just completed, too, the first curriculum in the Hall since the Church entered on her new condition. He has " exchanged the bosom of his family for that of his God," and is now enjoying those " felicities " he took such pleasure in describing. The Church above is enriched ; nor will the Church below be left desolated TO THE SAME. June. * A pensive walk to Morningside, and a return through the Meadows to the High Street, that made my heart burst with old thoughts of the departed and the past. Our communion walks were not forgotten ; and thinking of Chalmers now in heaven, and the allusions I had heard in the forenoon to the united Church triumphant, I tried to realize this future, and to ask, Would I enjoy it? Could I part with all that is earthly, and relish the spiritual, and God himself, for their own sake % I don't know ; I fear not yet' yohfi Mackintosh, 127 I cannot better close this period of his history, than by giving the testimony of Mr. Tasker, the indefatigable missionary in the West Port, as to the earnestness and success of John Mackintosh's labours in that district. In spite of his days of despondency and sadness, it is cheering to know now that these labours were not, as he thought, all in vain ; but that he has left behind, on other hearts, sanctifying impressions of his character. ' I had the privilege,' Mr. Tasker writes to me, * with many others, to be his fellow-student under Dr. Chal- mers, and very soon we all discerned his constitutional diffidence, elevated into Christian humility. As a matter of course he became a leader in all our literary societies as well as home missionary enterprises in this city, not certainly because he stood forward \ but because, with common consent, we determined to make him our head. I dwell on this phase in his character, and its silent and instant effect on his fellows, because it brings out this testimony to what grace did in him, in the way of ever- burning zeal, conquering his native diffidence — even more than conquering; for grace made that native diffidence a beauteous and an ample cloak of humility, in which he was ever invested and adorned. As might be expected, such a student became, from the first, a fellow-worker with Dr. Chalmers in the West Port. The mission had been six months in operation before I entered on its ecclesiastical superintendence. He was, therefore, my senior in the good work. I well remem- ber with what zeal, tempered with his uniform, Christian, and gentle modesty, he urged me to accept the charge of what seemed then — of what seems still — a formidable undertaking; and, having entered on its duties, I can never forget the brotherly kindness which he displayed ; II It ,;,,,■ .It*'* ■ 1: 128 Memorials of his prayerful and sympathizing efforts sustained and augmented, as long as he was at home, until failing health as well as a deepening sense — in which, however, he stood all alone — of the need of far higher literary attainments in divinity, induced him to visit our most illustrious continental Schools of Theology. *I need not here explain Dr. Chalmers's territorial mode of operation, as exemplified in the West Port. It is sufficient to say that Mr. Mackintosh was the gentle- man visitor of one of our twenty districts. The lady who was appointed to co-operate with him among the same families still survives, and by the grace of God continues with us to this day. I have conversed with her ere writing this letter, so that what follows may be held her testimony as much as mine. / • * In that district, inhabited chiefly by the most sunken of immigrating as well as migrating Roman Catholic Irish people — the remainder being Scotch, yet more deeply sunken — there was, when they began, scarcely to be found one member of any Christian church. The consequent moral and social degradation may be more easily conceived than described. Besides visiting from house to house, Mr. M. opened and maintained a dis- trict prayer-meeting in oAe of the humble houses, and by dint of domiciliary visits of unwearied kindness on the part of the lady and himself, a goodly number was drawn out to attend an hour weekly to hear the Word of God at his mouth, and listen to the prayers which the Holy Spirit helped him to present, in Jesus' name, on their behalf. *He conducted, besides, a Sabbath-evening class ol young men — half a dozen or so of the lads in his district, whom he found in some instances strangers to the ordi- I yohn Mackintosh. 129 Id I k; nary routine and proprieties of a daily school, they having never been within the walls of such a place. These he induced, by the humanizing power of his Christian kindness, to attend our week-day evening classes, opened for such from the first, within our old humble tan-loft church. * No doubt we yearn to see and hear of fruit ; but the Word of God and experience warn us to beware of dog- matizing about any while yet in this wilderness. Never- theless, the lady of whom I have spoken, and others my fellow-labourers, as well as myself, have no hesitation in speaking of two — a man and a woman — who, in health and in sickness, in life and in death, gave pleasing and decisive evidence of being brought to the knowledge ot the truth as it is in Jesus, while residing in that district, and who, we believe, are now where he is — "with Christ, which is yfer better." 'Others we^e brought to church-going habits, and ^ reed not explain to you the restraining and elevating power of two decidedly godly among even twenty families. At least one lad of his class was effectually awakened to self-respect, in such a degree as to remove to the west country, and, under an uncle, there to become an apprentice to a respectable trade which he has acquired \ recently to withdraw his brother with himself, in order to his moral elevation also, which he certainly was not attaining at home; and he continues, we believe, to help to pay his mother's rent here from term to term. I regret that I cannot add, that I feel sure that he does all this in the fear of God and out of love to Christ ; still, such qualities render him hopeful. * I may mention, as a distinguishing mark of his Chris- tian character and missionary zeal among us, his simple ■'■.'■tj W\ sii ■11' I 130 Memorials of f^iith in the exercise of prayer. He truly believed in prayer. Alas, how few practically do ! He was wont to arrange with the lady visitor to make special and secret supplication for individuals, one by one, among the old and young, as occasion called or opportunity offered. He failed not to take advantage of the promise : " If any two of you shall agree on earth touching what ye shall ask, it shall be done unto you of my Father who is in heaven." *To this day his memory is blessed in the district All that remain in it, that knew him, are awed, subdued, softened, at the mention of his name. They have been made sure of this : that a servant of the Lord hath been among them ; and that, by Mr. Mackintosh's Christian example, by his holy life as well as by his lips, the king- dom of God has come nigh unto them. * As for us, when we think of the Christian freshness and fervid enthusiasm of these youthful West Port days, with Dr. Chalmers at our head, and Mr. Mackintosh and others at our side, now no more here, we are constrained to say : ** Of joys departed, never to return- How painful the remembrance !" . , until the day break and the shadows flee away«* i \ John Mackintosh. "3« CHAPTER VI. 1847-48 — Lasswade — Letters to Widow Mackenzie — ^Jenny Lind*! Concert — Letter to Free Church Minister — Letters to Poor Cliristian Friends in the North— Bad Health— Visit to his Father's Grave- Letter to a Young Friend. Laurel Bank, Lasswade, might seem to have been John's ideal of a residence. It was surrounded by the sweetest scenery, with endless walks of rural beauty, were these even confined to the picturesque grounds of Mel- ville Castle, Dalkeith Palace, Newbattle Abbey, Roslin, or Hawthomden. Edinburgh too was but a few miles off. At home he had leisure to read, with the com- panionship of his mother and sister, and no severe duties, as when in town, to task his energies ; while in his immediate neighbourhood were many old and attached friends. Yet, in spite of these advantages, the two years spent in Lasswade were, owing to the state of his health, years of comparative suffering. He found the cUmate too relaxing, and suffered constantly from his old enemy dyspepsy. There is, therefore, not much in his history during these years, as far as can be gathered from his Diary and Letters, that would interest the reader. He attended the ministry of the Free Church clergyman, Mr. Pitcaim, but lived on the most inti- mate terms with his old friend, Mr. Mackenzie, the parish minister. He pursued his studies; did good to all as he had an opportunity; visited the sick; ,;!i' II IJl Memorials of ft: helped, as he could, the poor ; and enjoyed the society of his friends. '^June II. — Finished and returned vol. i. of Foster' i Life^ but have not yet got vol. il Like it on the whole. The character intense; imaginative; original because observant and thoughtful ; little addicted to the serener parts of philosophy ; pensive, but not horror-ish. Yet withal, under the cloak of "individuality," too misan- thropic and selfish. Many feel insulated as he did, who yet make nobler and more successful efforts to overcome the feeling. Chalmers seems an instance of this, as may be gathered from his commentary on Ps. cxix. 19 : " I indeed feel myself a stranger, and have marvellously little sympathy with my fellows ; but hide not from me a knowledge of Thy will, nor suffer me to hide myself from those of my own flesh." And yet who so singularly laboured with and for his fellows I * Went in the afternoon to a meeting of the Evangelical Alliance in Edinburgh. Heard some good things from Angell James. But I seem to myself so little able to understand sectarianism, that all this fine talk is like so many truisms ; — 'tis like a sermon to me on justifica- tion by faith alone, my mind seems so incapable of receiving any different idea of justification. The com- mon love of my neighbour, however, and of his soul, is a topic on which I cannot hear too much, being sorely deficient in it.' * Deficient,' no doubt; but yet real hearty love to the neighbour was there, as the following letter to old Widow Mackenzie testifies : — * Lasswade, June 22. * My dear Mrs. Mackenzie, — I have been very long of writing you, so long that I daresay you think I have \, !l yohn Mackintosh, 133 to d g re i:l( ■ifJ, 'r-i i '' { y\ i ' M i 'tS- * H'j i' 1 1 :■ u is .^ I IdO Meniorials of erroneous and unenlightened notions of the grounds of our separation, and any ultra conduct on my part would only tend among those around me to heighten these. Indeed it is with poignant regret, I could even say with distress, that I have long observed what I thought the false position which our Church and the members of our Church were taking up — that instead of the high and dignified attitude of regarding mainly the State in their separation, and cherishing a feeling of benevo- lence and love towards all, whether erring or dissenting churches, they have, to some extent, degraded them- selves into the character of a sect by hostility to the Establishment I feel deeply persuaded, that had we from the first assumed a loftier and more generous tone, our position in the country would have been different, even from the splendid one which we still are per- mitted to occupy. Our bounds would have been greatly extended, and our opportunities of usefulness to the E-^tablishment and other Churches vastly increased. Instead of this, we have voluntarily checked their sym- pathies and kindly feelings, and thrown up a wall of separation between us, which it would take generations to undo. We gave such emphatic testimony to our principles at the Disruption, that no further measures, it seems to me, were required for the purpose, and all be- yond it, whether justly or not, is set down by the world at large to the score of revenge ; the first we did rightly enough for God, they say, the rest for human nature. Be it so, I have always answered — and allowances must t>e made for infirmity in all human transactions — but it is not too lat( vet to retrieve our way in part. By tak- ing up a positiv/n which is not tenable by argument, we incur the risk, as has already happened, of losing adher- John Mackintosh, 141 3t e ents who, when forced from ground that was in truth ultra, hastily abandoned all. By a calm but judicious bearing, we shall not only make sure of our friends, but be more likely to win over our opponents. In this hope, I have never omitted any opportunity, within my own sphere, of stating my opinions to friends and com- panions; and not without the belief that in the judg- ment of some of those whom I most respected, I found a response. Moreover, I had always till yesterday pleased myself with the idea, that you and others were tacitly of the same way of thinking, and even now, while I admit the apparent presumptuousness of holding my opinions in the face of such a majority, yet holding them so clearly and strongly as I do, I can account for the unanimity on the other side on no other supposition than that it is a spell communicated from one to another in the enthusiasm of the battle, but which must one day give place to milder sentiments. Taking the wider survey of the Church as the Church Catholic, I know that I should find support in the authority of many who are most distinguished for piety and wisdom, so that my belief in their correctness is entitled to greater confidence. ' In conclusion, allow me to say that I trace the in- jurious effect of our present position not only on those who differ from us, but on ourselves. I cannot refrain from saying to you, that I think it has no small share in that want of progress in our own, and consequently our neighbour's Christianity, which you yesterday deplored. In the mass of minds, I feel it must be inconsistent with the spirit of love, and tend to beget self-complacency as well as other sinful feelings. While in regard to the dif- fusion of the Gospel, and of a loving spirit, I will freely confess, for my own part, to take but one instance, that I^tC m. ■n I r i\. 'P' I i! 1 . t 142 Memorials of I have never been able to get over the feeling of incon- gruity to ray mind, in our Church, or members of our Church, advocating the Evangelical Alliance, while they treated the Establishment as an exception. I fancy to myself that I have traced the blight and dwarfing effects of this feeling even more in individual members of our Church. * To be more personal in my communication, I must say that I never felt more strongly attached to the Free Church than I do now; and on this account all the more do I feel grieved for the above circumstances. I have to thank you very cordially for being the first to speak so frankly to me, and thereby give me an oppor- tunity of speaking out my sentiments, and vindicating my conduct. I have long known that my conduct was canvassed, but felt much pained that I could find no opportunity of explaining myself. Your kindness has relieved me, and while I feared at first it might disturb the serenity of my studies, I now believe your visit hap- pened well for me in the Providence of God. I have no wish this letter should be private between us, but that it may be submitted to wli<:m you please. If you are kind enough to meet my arguments by writing or at our next meeting, I shall be very grateful to you, and, I hope, weigh your answers impartially, as I know no consideration that should bias me either way against the truth. Entreating your prayers that the Spirit of grace may lead me into all truth, I remain, with unalter- able affection and respect, very truly yours, *JoHN Mackintosh. M * P.S. — I should be unwilling, if it could be avoided, and as there will be abundant opportunity for inter- ^ohn Mackintosh. 143 views, to carry on the discussion by writing, as I find it would occupy so much of my time. * I should also say — which, however, is of no conse- quence while the principle is held — that I find I have attended at an Established Church more than once since I came here — I believe, on three occasions. I said one to you yesterday, having no time to recall the right number. I have kept this letter for a re-perusal, and also that it might not interfere with your Sabbath pre- parations. In reading the Scriptures this morning, it struck me that, on tke subject of expediency, Paul's example to Timothy to avoid stumbling weak brethren, is that most generally quoted ; but that being a matter of expediency, it was not likely the one side of his con- duct would be recorded without an instance of the other. Accordingly, the narrative in the second chapter of Gala- tians immediately occurred to me, where he gave place to the prejudices of his friends^ " no, not for an hour." Many points seemed to me, on referring to the passage, as very parallel to my case. While I say this, I repeat what I said when we met, that were I minister of a con- gregation, I might see it my duty to yield in some measure to the prejudices of those whose good I had specially to consider.' . Being thus obliged to differ in opinion with such a friend on such a subject, gave him more pain than could be believed by those who did not know his acute and sensitive feelings. In his Journal, he remarks : * I have been violently moved by this business, yet spirit-solem- nized, and looked up to God in Christ for countenance and support, and felt much love. I posted it with the prayer that it might not be misinterpreted, or alienate m •J. 1 ' '1: ■'' ] m y' ■«BHB 144 Memorials of my dear friend Mr. , or others. Resolved anew to make myself over to Christ, and, forgetting self, to seek only to do His service.' There was nothing he guarded with such jealousy as his own sense of what was right On another occasion, when he thought himself unduly interfered with by a leader of the Free Church as to his not taking license, he says : — * Whether under delusion or not, I chose the ministry, and subsequently the Free Church, from a simple regard to Christ, without reference to any human being's influence or opinion ; and having found the free- dom and elasticity which this gives me, I feel very jealous of the interposition of any other influence or restraint May God give me grace to reject such, if it present itself, and to maintain my liberty in Christ without licentious- ness.' I may add, that the mutual lov* which existed between John and the friend to whom he addressed the above letter, remained unabated on both sides, all the days of his life. But John held fast to his own view of duty. ^ Dec. 29, 1847. • • • spoke to me of taking license and succeeding ; a most eligible place from size, neighbourhood, manse, and ' seclusion : it seems, intends to resign, and wishes me to succeed him. Replied decidedly that the reason of my delay to take license, viz., unfitness, could not yield to so tempting an offer ; that though the work there was mild, that the people might not have me, and I might be ushered on that field of bustle elsewhere, which I deprecated. Moreover, that in entering the Free Church, I had made up my mind to hardships, should God so order it, and did not therefore feel at liberty to go out of my way in order to secure an easy berth, or John Mackintosh, «45 id ■y o e I le avoid sharing alike with my brethren. I thanked him most warmly for his kind interest in suggesting it ; and that I might not appear hasty, said, I would look on his proposal as a call to inquire my way of the Lord, and then respond finally and deliberately, although I suspected my first impressions were correct and final* In a letter written about this time to his friend, Mr. Macintyre (Free Church Minister, Monikie), he says — * ... I could wish to grow in simplicity of depend- ence upon Him, taking orders, as it were, every day and every hour at His mouth, what He would have me to do as His servant and soldier. What a deal of un- certainty and over-anxiety as to our course and present employment would this take from us ! It would, in- deed, be rolling our burden on the Lord, and if done with unceasing prayer and childlike humility, making Him responsible as if for our progress and success. But it would need a very very single eye, and deadness to self in all its subtle interests. Were each servant of Christ thus to radiate from the centre, what an army of occupation would the Christian host be !* I have already alluded to his humble friends at Geddes, and the friendship which he never ceased to cultivate with them by * pen and ink,* when unable to see them *face to face.' Here are two of those letters. The ploughman is still alive, and still, I believe, bears an excellent Christian character. Alexander M'Arthur was the son of a small farmer in the north, and was then dying of consumption. TO JAMES *Mv DEAR James, PLOUGHMAN. •Lasswade, Sept. i8, 1847. The tone of your letter is li-J M m J' ! tU 146 Memorials of such that, believing you to be diligent and earnest in the Christian life, I do not feel qualified to send you advice, as in the case of some other young men of my acquaintance, in different parts of the country, to whom my letters, therefore, may be more necessary. My chief object, then, in writing you, is to perpetuate a friendship which you seem unwilling to drop, and which is cer- tainly endeared to me by many very sweet and tender recollections of the past If you are indeed a child of God, you will not feel flattered by what I say of my in- capacity to advise you, but probably humbled from a knowledge of your own heart, such as I cannot have, while you give God the praise for whatever He has done for you, in enabling you to know its desperate wicked- ness, and in some measure to subdue it. It is a feeling of this depravity of heart that makes me write so hum- bly to you — for I am not a Reverend, as you suppose ; but I am still delaying to labour among others, with a view to further preparation for it This I find renders me more exposed to the assaults of sin and of the world ; for I verily believe there are few things so help- ful to our growth in grace, as concerning ourselves ac- tively for the souls of others. Still I trust that with me, as with you, the current of my soul is towards God, and the desire of my heart after holiness ; but the progress that may be made in this, by a faithful use of the means of grace, I seem but beginning to know, while I feel greatly guilty for the meanness of my at- tainment ' The prevalence of ungodliness in our land, and the withdrawal of so many of God's witnesses, call upon us to be more than ever circumspect in our walk and close in our relations to God Each of us should live and John Mackintosh^ «47 act as if on him depended the maintenance of vital reli- gion in the Church, or, at all events, the preserving of a healthful salt in his neighbourhood. Indeed, did we but know or consider what depends upon our individual exertions for good or evil aiound us, it would make our walk more careful, our feelings more solemn, and our reference to God more real and habitual every day and every hour ; but I trust you know something of this, and that with others you will be honoured and blessed of God in maintaining His cause where you now are, and by and by supplying the places of those whom He takes before you to glory. * I heard from Mr. C. not long ago, and am delighted to know, from a later date, that the Suftday evening meetings still continue and prosper. My thoughts often recur to them and to you all at that precious time, nor can I well describe to you the feeling I have in thinking that some of you remember me at the throne of grace, and thus return the interest I take in your welfare. The accounts of Sandy Macarthur's protracted illness grieve me much. I may perhaps write him, but I trust the Lord is ripening His work in him, so that to him to live may be Christ, and to die gain. 'Remember me very warmly to my friends around you, at the Square and elsewhere, and believe me to be, my dear James, your sincere friend, *J. Mackintosh.* TO ALEXANDER MACARTHUR. ' Lasswade, Nov. 19, 1847. ' My dear, dear Sandy, — On asking my sister, who has just returned from the north, about all my friends, I came to you, and she said she had not seen you, but f.%^!^ 148 Memorials of had heard that you were very frail and poorly. This has given me much sorrow, though not so much on your own account as on that of your friends, among whom I number myself Should the Lord be pleased to take you to Himself, I would always feel it a pen- sive thought that one so near my own age, with whom I had taken sweet counsel at an interesting period of my life, and whom I had expected to meet again as my fellow-traveller, had gone before and left me with- out the stimulus of his example. For you, however, my dear Sandy, I believe it would be great gain. I trust, as your bodily strength declined, the Lord has been manifesting Himself more and more to your spirit I sometimes try to bear you fervently on my heart be- fore God. There is a reality in the simple truths of His Word, which we only require to know deeper, and with- out any new knowledge our souls will be filled as with marrow and fatness. It is the Holy Spirit, through meditation and prayer, that gives us this insight, as you well know, I believe, by experience : and God is often pleased to employ the season of sickness for this blessed end. O to live near Christ, yea in Him, by Him, to Him ! That Divine Person, the brightness of the Father's glory, and the express image of His person, yet our fellow-man, must be the great centre of our thoughts, our affections, and our deep devotion. Hav- ing Him, we have all. He has all power in heaven and in earth \ can, therefore provide for all our concerns here, and preserve our body and soul to everlasting life. My dear Sandy, I am sure we may say, as we have often said before, what a dreary earth this of sorrow and changes but for Christ our blessed companion through it, and that glorious hope of everlasting life. My heart 'J^okn Mackintosh, 149 is very warm to you when I think of the past, and those quahties in you which endeared you to me. How I wish I had the prospect of again seeing you, as of old ! I pray God He may lay His hand gently upon you, and sweeten your cup with many mercies. I fear I cannot expect you to write me, from your weakness ; but if it were not a burden to you, it would give me very great pleasure were you to dictate a few words to George or any other of your family, which they might send me. It is for them I feel, for I am sure they must love you very much, and be very sad to see you drooping. Pray remember me to your father and all. Tell George I hope his studies are prospering, and above all, that his Boul is growing in grace. If you have opportunity, will you remember me to Widow M., to the Campbells, and any other friends about you, to Jenny and Wm. F. And now farewell, my dear Sandy. Remember me sometimes when you feel near the throne, and believe me to be, your affectionate friend, * John Mackintosh.* it 'PHI our [av- and terns life. ^ften and iugh ieart Having received a reply to this letter, he says, in his Diary : — * A very touching and gratifying letter from Sandy, for which I desire to humble myself and give thanks to God.' '^Jan. 9, 1848. — My birth-day, aged twenty- six. Awoke to renewed confession of sin, recognition of utter weakness in myself, and profession of reliance entire on Divine grace. Anew made myself over to Christ ; to renounce self, the world, the flesh, and the devil, and to consecrate myself to His service. Prayed long and fervently on those heads, and that this year I may grow in grace, in the knowledge and love of God, .fi "'ili; i i! ! >50 Memorials of and of His Son Jesus Christ, of His Word, of His people, and of His cause; that I may grow in knowledge, righteousness, and true holiness, in fitness for the ministry, and in discerning clearly my call to it. I pray also that I may better discharge my duty to my neigh- bour, whether relative or friend, high or low ; and, on this head, that in certain company I may neither err by unbecoming levity, nor offend by undue austerity; to hit the mean here. My chief snare in time past is in- deed beyond me ; but Lord, give me a single eye, and do Thou teach me the way wherein I should go. *Jan. 24. — God grant my heart may not decline, but in the midst of a jarring and suspicious world, keep me in the secret of Thy presence. Hide me from the strife of tongues, and make me unobtrusively useful to my fellow-men in Thy service.* :l.,. i TO WIDOW MACKENZIE. 'Lasswade, yan. i8, 1848. * My dear Widow Mackenzie, — I bear you on my heart often at the throne of grace, and should be glad to know from you that, as you approach the gates of the celestial world, your soul is admitted to nearer com- munion with God, and to a foretaste of glory. Is the Word becoming more and more precious to you above all other books, however holy? Is Christ becoming more invaluable to you— your all in all — in His person, His offices, and His work ? Ah ! my dear old friend, this world passes way, and the things thereof, but Christ is a portion that can never fail us. Without Him how gloomy — with Him, how bright and intelligible all events, even death itself! I suppose, if we are to make any real progress in the divine life and know- yohn Mackintosh. '5' ling rson, lend, Ihrist Ihow all to lOW- ledge, it must be in the direct acknowledgment that the Holy Spirit is our great Teacher j and may He, there- fore, teach you and me, even when our natural faculties appear to be failing. * I have a strange feeling, through not having been north as usual last summer, and seen all my old friends about Geddes. I sometimes doubt whether summer has really fled without it ; yet not the less does my heart cling to the very dust and stones of the place, and how much more to its inhabitants, old and young ! . . . * It is but too probable we shall never meet again in the flesh ; but I trust we are both travellers to that world where there shall be no separation.' TO JAMES PLOUGHMAN. >, March 3. no situation ' LAsswAinc * My dear James, ... I can conceive more favourable for leading a quiet, honest, godly, and happy life, than that of an unambitious tenant farmer. I might even go the length of warning you against too enterprising a spirit, by which your worldly cares might be increased, to the disadvantage of your peace and piety. * I could sometimes almost envy those whose walk it is to ply a healthful labour, with Solomon's mean between poverty and riches, and ample leisure, even in the calling, to occupy the soul with thoughts of God and the welfare of those about them. Every condition, however, has its own trials, and with these its own supports, its own promises, its own rewartls. Blessed be that overruling wisdom that assigns to each of us our own place ! Let our part be to Karn what that place is, by direct counsel from God. Of course this matter I 1 \-- 1 1 1 -'i t it ■'■I r! 1', ^ '111 »5* Memorials of of yours you will spread before God, and ascertain what He would have you do. When we thus acknowledge Him in all our ways, we may expect His blessing in our path, and His guidance to the end,; whereas when we devise and struggle on without God, not to say against Him, it is but one succession of failure upon failure. * It is a great matter, I feel, to attain to that personal and habitual communion with Christ our Lord in prayer, that we can, as it were, see Him face to face, and be guided by His eye. I believe we are too con- tent to walk in a kind of twilight, guided by an obscure sense of duty, which may be called the reflection of His beams, when, were our spirits more exercised, we might have the clear and quickening radiance of the Sun Himself. We are entitled, if only our hearts be pure, to expect a voice continually in our ears, saying — This is the way, walk thou in it Let us seek this, t Men, dear James, especially in matters of importance, and .vc shall never err or go astray.' TO ALEXANDER MACARTHUR. •Lasswade, May i8. * Mv DEAR Sandy Macarthur, . . . My mother writes me tfiat she did not see you, indeed, but heard you were very much reduced, and this again gives me sor- row and apprehension. Yet why should I say sorrow, for I believe you can say, To me to live is Christ, and to die gain. Blessed are they whom God chastens, and thus brings near to Himself, to be taught by His gra- cious Spirit the mysteries of the kingdom, and to be enlightened in the knowledge of Jesus Christ. The sufficiency of His atonement, the riches of His love. 'John MackintosJu 153 the tenderness of His care, the glories of His character and person, the faithfulness of His promises, the excel- lence of His precepts, become to such a one realities^ and not mere doctrines and names. * I trust, my dear Sandy, that you are daily feeding upon Christ in all His manifold attributes and offices, and finding him meat indeed and drink indeed. You will thus be prepared, meekly and lovingly, for what- ever may be His will concerning you. I have sent you by Mrs. Mackintosh the present of M^Cheyn^s Life^ wliich, I am sure, you will enjoy if you have not read it before. Pray give it to George to read, with my kind regards. 1 hope he is making progress intellectually and spiritually ; and if you should be able to write me again, I should be much interested to hear of him, what he is doing and intending to do. After all — the Word, the Word, the Word — this is what actually makes us grow through the Divine blessing, and especially in sick- ness, sorrow, or any other distress ; every other book beside it appears poor and insignificant' r Although of a later date, I shall here give the last letter written to Widow Mackenzie, which will also finish his correspondence with those friends, then among the poor on earth, but the society of two of whom, I doubt not, he now shares in heaven. TO WIDOW MACKENZIE. • Lasswapk, Aus^isf 22. *Mv DEAR Widow Mackenzie, , . . T trust tlie Lord is continuing to sustain you, and to fulfil that word in your experience, that having known Him in your youth, now when you are old and grey-headed, He will not 154 Memorials of i forsake you. You are drawing nearer and nearer to the eternal world, and I trust have a desire to be with Christ, and to see Him as He is. I trust He is daily revealing to you more of His surpassing beauty, holi- ness, tenderness, and compassion, and enabling you to feed upon Him in your heart by faith. I wish I were near to talk with you of Him, and to hear what He is teaching you. I think I have been in His school myself for some time — the school of discipline — and have been learning somewhat, which may yet be useful to myself and others. God grant it be so 1 ' * April 7. — My work very regular this week, my pro- gress steady; yet it is long now since I felt any elasticity of mind, Oi any of that " joy," which, as Coleridge sjys, clothes all things with its effluence. I believe the weather of these two months has much to do with it, as well as my sedentariness ; and am not without hopes that one day it may return. Meanwhile, let me persevere humbly, prayerfully, resolutely in duty. ^ April 17. — While many fancy I am indulging in selfish luxury in study, I have daily cause to know that it is a weariness to the flesh. I envy those in active employ- ment ; my present position I compare to that of the British troops at Waterloo before being allowed to charge. 'May 2. — At Exhibition, and again delighted with Turner's picture ; what refinement of colouring, what perspective, what scope for the imagination ! Contrast this delicate ideal picture with the best landscapes in the room. They so deteriorate the eye, that it is some time before it can be purified for the higher style. The more one gazes upon him, the more one comes up to somewhat the measure of his suggestions.' John Mackintosh, 155 Not a month passes, hardly a week, in which some nUusion to declining health does not occur. * May 4. — My strength wonderfully gone ; I may say, ** My flesh is dried like a potsherd." I attribute it to the rain we have had for the last three months, and m> sedentary habits. * In future I shall endeavour never to let myself get 80 low. In the meantime, may this experience be blessed to make me forbearing with those whose bodily ailments quench their spirit. * Heavenly Father ! if this trial be also chastisement, show me wherein I have offended Thee ; for verily I thought that this winter my walk with Thee, in spite of many shortcomings, had been holier than wont, and my communion with Thee, and labour among Thy people, nearer and sweeter.* To recover strength he went off for a tour to Aber- deenshire, and on his way home spent some days with my brother John — an old Glasgow friend of his — at Crawford Priory, Fifeshire. He came home much re- freshed, and blessing God * for all the happiness he had enjoyed, and desiring to consecrate his renovated powers anew to His service.' But no sooner does he again settle at Lasswade than his sufferings are renewed — sleepless nights and weary days. Such distressing entries in his Diary as the following occur : — * May 20. — O that weight ! I feel stifled and op- pressed. My mind is as if under nightmare, and yet unable to shake it off.' ' O that weight !' It was indeed time to do something to cast it off. Wearied and oppressed with this ' stifled, drowsy, unimpassioned grief,' and dreaming of the sun- n I i!tI M I : ■ , m ili I' %^ «5i..«.irtW !wa John Mackintosh, 169 CHAPTER VIL Leaves Scotland — Letter of Alex. Bum Murdoch, Esq. — Diaries in Geneva, 1848 ; and Letters to his Mother, Rev. N. Macleod, and the Rev. W. Madden — Diary, 1849. In May (1848), John Mackintosh says in his Diary: — *I have resolved, d.v., to spend next winter at Geneva, thinking it may enlarge my future usefulness, and add a year to my preparation for the ministry. I think I seek God's glory first in this, and I pray Him, if it will lead to this, to make my way plain before me, and if not, then to thwart my plan. I have as yet broached it to no one.' As the summer and autumn advanced, the state of his health confirmed him in his resolution to go abroad. His way became still more clear, when he found that his friend, Mr. Bum Murdoch, was willing to accompany him. In writing to him, he said : ' Should you make up your mind then to go, I trust we shall look for, and obtain God's blessing in making us profitable to one another, and in turning our labours to account in His service. * I have already hinted to you, what, I fear, you may have to put up with in me, in the way of physical moroseness j but perhaps yoiu" cheerfulness may com- municate itself to me, or at all events, it will enable you to bear with me.' 170 Memorials of I shall leave Mr. Bum Murdoch himself to tell the reader his early remembrances of John, and of their journey to Geneva, and residence there, as he has kindly told all this to me in a letter received from him. Before doing so, there are a few of John's Diaries previous to his departure, which may be recorded- Lasswade. — * Sunday f Sept. 24. — Sweet thoughts on waking ; at ten got to room, and most unusual medita- tion. I thought I could trace God's hand in all my past suffering, and that it was designed, in love, to chasten and correct. Like Samuel, when God spoke to him, I have been long in recognising the voice as His. I now seem to see it distinctly ; and what is more, my mind was filled with adoring gratitude and wonder, that God should condescend to discipline me, that His faithful- ness and goodness in it quite melted my heart I prayed Him not so much to remove the rod, as to bless it to the sanctifying of my soul. I have needed it much for purifying, and, for punishment, have suffered infi- nitely less than my iniquities deserve. Of what self- seeking in my life am I conscious, although professing to be only Christ's ; that is, I love the praise of man more than the praise of God, and am not willing to be counted a fool or a disagreeable person for Christ's sake, or to give up all and follow Him. O Lord, give me grace to renounce self, and to live only for Thee and my neighbours' good. * Tuesday^ Sept. 26. — Tol lol night, but woke jaded. Short walk before breakfast ; afterwards finished Gibbon. It took him twenty years to write, and as he says, linked year to year, and afforded much delight It has taken me a year to read, linked month to month, and con- i^ected together their very varied, sometimes happy, John Mackintosh* 171 often sad experience ; yet, in looking back, the sad is forgotten, and the pleasing alone prevails with a deep tinge of pensiveness. I am surprised at my slowness in getting through, but, alas ! dire ill health has had much to do with it ... To West Port, and saw Mrs. , with , also old Rachel ; spoke and prayed at both houses ; walked up Port, and many old and profitable thoughts of past years crowded my mind ; in which dear, great, good Dr. Chalmers stood as centre. With all the suffering that has been since, " the thought of my past years in me doth breed perpetual benediction." * Wednesday^ Oct 4. — Rose early, and after a brief feeling of awe, in the thought of leaving home, experi- enced much assurance of God's favour and presence, and, in particular, with that promise, as if from the Lord Himself : " Lo, I am with thee alway, even to the end of the world." After devotions, dressed and packed ; much overcome at family prayers. ... At parting, solemn prayer with mother. Farewell to Kate, and departed much unmanned.' His next meeting with his mother and sister was not in his own beloved Scotland. And now I shall permit Mr. Bum Murdoch to go on with his narrative : — * From the circumstance of my brother being in the same class at the Edinburgh Academy, of which our dear friend was all along the head boy, I of course had known about him for years. It was not, however, till we met in the class-rooms of the New College that I had the pleasure of becoming personally acquainted with him. His appearance there was very striking. He always sat in the same place ; and I believe few, if any, failed to remairk his animated intelligent countenance| w 17a Memoirs of his perfect gentlemanliness, and his demeanour irre- proachable alike by the gravest or the gayest, being quite untinged with either the censoriousness of the cynic or the boisterousness of the boy. Some pleasant strolls with John, and one or two other friends, invited like myself to visit him at Laurel Bank, and wander to- gether on the shady banks of the Esk, recur to my memory as marking our last months in Scotland. But I hasten on to our journey. When we had agreed to go together to Geneva, he came for a day or two to Gartincaber in September 1848, where, besides my bro- ther John, he met another old class-fellow, George Kin- near, now a clerg)maan in the Church of England, and my own and his friend, Robert Watson. I well remem- ber that the day after he arrived he asked me to retire with him, that together we might ask God's blessing on our proposed journey. And when we sailed from Granton Pier on the 4th of October, after Robert Balfour and my brother William had bid us farewell, and when the forms of James Howden, and my own dear and now absent brother, James, who alone of our friends lingered on the point of the pier, were no longer visible, — again, at his request, retiring to our state- cabin, we sought the blessing and guidance of Him for whose gloiy our dear friend assuredly undertook the journey. We slept at Folkestone on the loth ; it was a lovely moonlight night, and long we paced, almost silently, up and down the short jetty, gazing on the moon, the gently undulating silvered sea, and the shores of the dear land we were about to leave. His every look that night seemed to me an outgushing of the love of country, which in him was only second to the love of bis mother and of his God.' ■MM yohn Mackintosh, 173 I shall here interrupt Mr. Bum Murdoch's narrative by giving an extract from a letter written by John Mac- kintosh that night to his mother .■- •Folkestone, Oct. 10 *. . . I can say no more just now, than that your letter filled my heart with prayer and thanksgiving. I have felt, I may say, in a very peaceful frame of spirit towards God my Saviour, since I set out on my joumeyings, and, as I tolv^ you, for some time pre- viously; God grant it may last and increase! Who knows how far a mother's anxiety and prayers may have to do with it? * It is a sublime night here, as I write ; the moon is shedding a wonderful effulgence on the great English Channel, which throbs beneath its beams as if it knew the mighty place it holds, and has ever held, to our beloved country, defending it from danger, and, as at this day, separating it from convulsions. The lights of France are visible \ the waves lash \\. ^ chalk cliffs of old England with a solemnity of sound that is appropriate. I am in the neighbourhood of Caesar's landing-place, and the Conqueror's great Norman battle-field ; so that, you may suppose, my poetic temperament is worked up to the highest pitch. To-morrow morning we cross the channel for Paris, which we expect to reach by evening, and bidding farewell to you almost in the same breath with which I say good-night to my native land, —I remain,' etc. * Paris, October 16. — I feel impressed with the great- ness of the French as a people, which from national prejudice I have been slow to admit They seem to me most like the ancients of any modem nation, and a sort of combination of the Greek and the Roman, having If ; f V- ') ''I % i\ fl ■i H n fli ItJ- I'l » .HO'. I »74 Memorials of the feebler ess, subtlety of intellect, and vivacity of the one, the ambition and nationality and grandeur of the other. Napoleon must have been a genuine Roman. Alas, that they resemble the ancients also in their atheism and idolatry I' *0n the 17 th we left Paris for Geneva, per Diligence^ in the banquette of course ; it was a sixty hours' journey of almost uninterrupted travelling. It was only in the end seat of the banquette that one could sleep, and we took it alternately ; and it was not my kind companion's fault if I had not far more than my share. What a pleasant journey it was ! . . . 'Many of the students attending the Theological Academy of the Evangelical Society at Gentva come from a distance — from France, from the Waldensian valleys, from Belgium and from French Canada. They are not, generally speaking, of the rich of the earth, and most of them find it convenient to live in boarding- houses, almost confined to themselves, where the style of living is simple, and the expense moderate. John at once resolved to take up his abode in one of these. His great object in going to CJeneva had been to obtain a thorough knowledge of French, a good general view of French literature, and- a familiar acquaintance with the theological students and the theological teaching. It was among students that these ends could be best attained ; and accordingly, we very soon found ourselves inmates of a students* boarding-house — a pretty, irregular building, with its garden, vine-covered promenade, ad- joining field, and artificial mound, up which a spiral walk led through thick young fir-trees to a favourite seat on the top. It was pleasantly situated, in the suburb of jLi yohn Mackintosh, ^75 Champel, some half a mile west of Geneva, and nearest that point of the fortifications where a suspension foot- bridge, thrown across the moat, gives access to the city. Close to this little bridge is the Oratoire, where the classes in connexion with the Evangelical Society meet. Our boarding-house was presided over by M. and Mme. Loup, excellent people ; and there were fully a dozen of students besides ourselves. It was a great induce- ment to go to M. Loup's, that we found there a dear friend, William Ker, now minister of the Free Church in Deskford, who had arrived just before us, with the intention of spending some months at Geneva. Indeed, our house was quite full, and M. Loup put himself con- siderably about in order to accommodate us. We had all separate bedrooms, with fire-places or stoves, which had to serve also for study and sitting-room; but we met at meals in a common dining-room. We break- fasted at seven (in summer still earlier), dined at one, and had tea, which in Switzerland is generally a some- what more solid meal than with us, at seven. The distinguishing feature in John's character was, I think, conscientiousness ; and hence his ordinary daily life was characterized by extreme regularity. One was some- times tempted to wish that he would follow more un- thinkingly the fresh impulse of feeling in little matters ; but it was a wish arising probably from a less vivid and constant realization than his, of the presence of Him who is invisible. His blamelessness of life deeply impressed the students, from some of whom I have had letters since his death, showing that, after the interval of many year^, they still retain a most affectionate remem- brance of him. Being away from home, I have not ^hese by me. One is from a most amiable fellow- .Hfi .ii [If Xi' 'I' I ';■ 1 1 »1 ! m lyS Memorials of student, M. Ambresin, now pastor at Thiat, in the Department of Haute Vienne ; another from an equally kind-hearted friend, M. Harmdgnies, now a pastor in Belgium ; another from Italy. After our early breakfast we three met for a sort of family-worship in English ; then John shut himself up for study till dinner-time. After dinner we walked, and he almost always found his way to the reading-room in the afternoon, where we saw the English papers, and news of home. He very generally walked with one of the students, that he might have more intercourse with them, and might be com- pelled to speak French, and this, I am sure, from the home-feelings that creep over one at such a time, must have cost him no small self-denial. As to Ker and myself, wandering up the shady banks of the yellow Arve, and seeking for the first flowers of spring, we very unscrupulously made the woods ring with our mother-tongue. After Ker left us for home, in the middle of March, John and I had our daily walk oftener together ; but I was generally requested to speak French. Both in the forenoon and afternoon, we occasionally attended the theological lectures at the Oratoire, not indeed with great regularity — ^we had had much lecture-attending before — but often enough to understand the system pursued; less frequently at the excellent theological lectures of Gaussen, the Church history of Merle, and the Hebrew of La Harpe, as these differed little from our own in Scotland ; very often at the admirable but occasional lectures of Filet, on preaching and sermon-writing, and the fresh and inter- esting though somewhat Germanized exegesis of Scherer — ^both subjects hitherto comparatively neglected in our own theological schools. 'John Mackintosh, 177 * M. Loup had prayers in the evening in the public dining-room, where we generally, however, had but a small attendance. There were almost always, however, at least two or three students, an excellent old watch- maker, Jac'ottet, since gone to his rest (our only non- student housemate), and, to do them justice, " les trois Ecossais," when they happened to be at home. Some- times M. Loup conducted our devotions himself, pour- ing forth his supplications with a faith, a fervour, and, above all, a volubility unexampled but among French Christians. Very often his place was taken by La Fleur, one of our students, who, with his countryman Cyr, were regular attendants. La Fleur was a French Canadian of good talents and blameless life, greatly beloved and respected by us all — by none more than by John. It was a great privilege to join in his calm and solemn prayers. He is now at the Mission de la Grande Ligne, St. John's, Canada, where, I doubt not, he is about his Master's business. When speaking of the students, I might name them all as showing un- varying kindness to the English strangers. The steady Ledune, the musical Chatelanat, the jovial D Ihorbe, the half-English Auberjonois, Roux, Lecocq, even the impetuous arguer, Ferrette,* all were kind to us. The students had a prayer-meeting at the Oratoire, in which John occasionally took a part, so soon as he had suffi- ciently mastered the language. He also attempted a little in the way of home-mission work, but he did not speak of it even to me. I only gathered that he found his nationality an insurmountable barrier, as he was im- portuned for temporal aid whenever he was perceived to be an Englishman. * Now missionary agent at Damascus of the Synod of Ulster. \\\ I ' i 4 ■■'TRi ■ l* fsl H u\ w ii ji r ii'il 178 Memorials of *I have spoken of our evenings at the "Pension Loup." But, indeed, the "Trois Ecossais," thanks to the kind hospitality of friends, were under little neces- sity of spending evenings at home. Pleasant uncere- monious evening parties are quite a feature of Genevese life, and especially in the circle of our most intimate acquaintance, which was not thoroughly English, nor yet thoroughly French ; but one in which the two elements, by intermarriage or otherwise, were very much blended. The venerable occupant of the Prd-Bdni is, as everybody knows, the hospes of all our nation, and many an English chat had we under his roof Mr. Stevenson, although within an ace of being a thorough Frenchman, was English still, and his wife not English merely, but Scotch, and a Sinclair ; and a Scotch wel- come we invariably received from them. Count St George is half-English, and his wife is English ; but it was not nationality, but the large-heartedness of Chris- tian love that dictated their unvarying kindness to us. Madam Scherer, too, is our countrywoman, and Pro- fessor Scherer is well acquainted with our language and literature. They had one evening in the week, when any of the students who pleased were welcomed, and many availed themselves of it; but we strangers and foreigners were far more constant guests, and we shall never forget the unwearied kindness which made " Les Grottes " to us a second liome. Pleasant evenings too we passed with tlie excellent Professor Gaussen, with Dr. M,erle, the Perrots, and several others, which re- lieved the monotony of student-life, and gave us an insight into a very pleasant and Christian society. 'One feature in our Geneva life I must not omit; John's health was not very vigorous, and an uninter- yohn Mackintosh, 179 rupted course of sedentary life always induced great torpidity of the system. To throw aside books and dash into the country, was the only remedy. You know his intense enjoyment of nature, and can there- fore understand with what delight he started on such an expedition, when his health rendered it imperative. And here, indeed, I could let my pen run on. Fancy us three, with a French friend (whom we nearly killed by overwalking), on an intensely cold and brilliant day in the end of December, following the course of the Rhone for some twenty miles, spending the long evening in pleasant chat round the stove of the most primitive of French wayside inns j and hailing the sunrise among the rocks and icicles that surrounded the "Perte du Rhone." Fancy us trudging along to Chamonix in the middle of February, astonishing the snow-bound in- mates of the Hotel de la Couronne, and crossing the Tete Noire to Martigny, over ten to fifteen feet of snow, in the highest spirits, and with as much ease as in sum- mer. To console ourselves for the loss of Ker, John and I spent the last days of March in accompanying Professor Scherer in a delightful walk round the Lake of Geneva, beginning with the south side. We had, indeed, our little hardships. We started in the gloom of a snow-shower ; but spring was already triumphant, and never shall we forget these meadows and grassy slopes between Evian and St. Gingolph, covered with cowslips, violets, and many-coloured patches of the wild crocus ; that sunny churchyard of Montreux, and the quiet grave of the great, the good, the lovely Alex- andre Vinet I might speak, too, of summer trips to Annecy, and Aix les Bains, with its fairy Lac de Bour- get, where John and I, alone among strangers, felt, with r S^ u r ^ } X 1 1 .i|rl i \ m \ I '^.i'lJi i8o Memorials of i i t a vague and undefined delight, the spirit of a new and more southern climate breathing in all that we saw around us ; but I shall deny myself the pleasure of say- ing anything more about these most delightful hours. It was on these occasions that I most enjoyed his society ; and what struck me most was his intense de- light in the beautiful works of God, and his ever per- ceptible gratitude to Him who gave him so much to enjoy. One very noticeable trait in his character was his power of entirely forgetting any accompanying annoyances or hardships, and admiring and enjoying with all his heart He would express his delight ver- bally, or in a letter, at the scenes he was beholding, in the most glowing lerms; and there was not a tinge of sadness to lead you to suspect that his bodily health was perhaps such as, in the case of most men, would have thrown a dark gloom over the most glorious land- scape. Indeed, this power of ignoring personal sorrow, and therefore bearing it alone, without asking any sympathy from his friends, amounted, in his case, as concerned his health, to a misfortune, if not a fault : if a fault, certainly a rare and dignified one. Well do I remember a day in June, when, after a long and fatiguing Diligence journey, we started on foot, with heavy knap- sacks, from Albertville, in the valley of the Is^re, intend- ing to find our way, as best we could, across mountain roads to Chamonix. We had many miles of a long straight road, white, and inches deep of dry burning dust -J the sun was blazing in fieice noon-day splendour. Our lips were far too parched to admit of conversation, and we tramped slowly along on opposite sides of the way, where there was least dust. It was decidedly a case in which a sea breeze-loving John Bull might law- 'John Mackintosh. i8i fully grumble a little, and with that intention I turned to my companion ; but, alas for sympathy ! his eye was fixed on a far-stretching and splendidly-wooded hillside, which rose on our left : here and there among the high, bare, rocky jidges which towered beyond, was perched a chateau — the very home of romance ; it was evident that the toils of the way, the fury of the sun, were forgotten ; his eye expressed a quiet delight, and a slow, uncon- sciously murmured "beautiful!" told the grumbler that he must grumble alone. * One word about the more peculiarly religious aspect of our Ufe at Geneva. This alone makes the retrospect even joyful ; other things may have passed away for ever. The " new earth " may perhaps have no more its Lac de Bourget, its Savoy, its Alps (though even these are immortalized, at least in memory) ; but it is our delight to think that our Geneva ties were of the most enduring kind. The great bulk of those who showed us kindness were followers, and many of them most exemplary followers of the Lord Jesus. It was a great privilege to hear such admirable sermons as those of M. Pilet at the Oratoire, to be present at the unique Cat^- chisme of Gaussen, to receive the affectionate exhorta- tions of the venerable Malan. It was a great privilege, the constantly recurring opportunities we had of meeting round the table of the Lord, and commemorating His death, in a language and with a form that showed us to be of one family with the Cdvenols and the Camisards. It was perhaps a greater privilege still to see before us many men, some of them men of rank and wealth and leisure, devoting themselves, with all the ardour of men of business, to the advancement of Christ's kingdom, and deserving a place beside the honoured worthies of i : I ^j'^ I : lli: I I 182 Memoriats of our own Clapham sect I believe that the effect, in a religious point of view, produced on John and on all of us, was a feeling of admiration for the greater joyfulness manifested by these French Christians. We thought this arose, in part, from the prominent place they gave in their thoughts to the person of the Saviour ; and, I believe, we found it very advantageous to ourselves, to regard personal Christianity more as a cleaving of soul to a living loving Saviour, than a belief of certain truths. That the accent has been laid too much on the latter view in our country was, I think, felt by our dear friend; and had he lived, he would have seen many signs in our sermons and religious literature that this was becoming generally felt, acknowledged, and amended. 'This letter is already too long, and I must hasten to a close. Though written hurriedly, unmethodically, and amid a press of duties, I hope it may be possible to gather from it some idea of John's life at Geneva. I have noi spoken of the feelings cherished towards him by our kind Geneva friends. They were, I know, feelings of unmingled respect and love. * The 30th of July was the last day we spent together. Circumstances obliged me to return home : his course was towards Italy. It was a day of sorrow to both. We were in Lausanne. We sat gazing sadly on the lake, beyond which the Salbve, the C6te d'Or, and the mountains near the " Perte du Rhone," loomed solemnly through a hazy atmosphere. As the parting hour ap- proached, we read a portion of Scripture and prayed together. The darkness concealed our tears ; and mid- night tolled solemnly as the Diligence hurried me away towards Besan9on, with my eyes fixed, for the last time, on the form of John Mackintosh. John Mackintosh, ■83 * That 30th day of July he wrote in my album the following lines : — •• Adieu I — to God — what words can else express The parting, and the prayer that soars to heaven, When two fond hearts, long link'd in tenderness, By the decree of fate at length are riven ? Yet happy they to whom the hope is given To meet again upon this travailing earth. And side by side inaugurate the birth Of that bright age for which our sires have striven. Adieu ! — to God— if not below, above I "While even here, how wide soe'er we roam, High in an atmosphere of peace and love, Our souls may meet in God — the wanderer's home." * " If not below, above !" My heart echoes that prayer. The Lord enable me to follow him in his upward course. Hitherto, alas 1 at the very best, it has been non passihus CBquis* I will now let him tell his own tale of his life at Geneva by extracts from his Diaries and Letters, during the nine months in which he resided there, from the end of October 1848 till the end of July 1849. * Oct. 29. — I desire to walk with God, to live entirely to Christ, and, if it be His precious will, to be a sweet savour of Him to all around, particularly my fellow students. . . . The desire of my heart is after holiness, and an entire dedication and surrender of myself to Christ * Wednesday, Nov. 8. — Evening, drank tea with Mr. Darby, accompanied by Ker; long discussion on his views ; feel very strong on the subject of the ministry, as of apostolic appointment, and most necessary : yet harmonize more with him than with High Churchmen .' f ^'1 ;^ 184 Memorials of and system-mongers of any church. After tea he gave us his views on prophecy — very interesting ; and many of them, I have no doubt, just I consulted him on his views of the person of Christ, and the nature of his intercourse with the Lord, to which he repHed in a manner very edifying, and in strict harmony with what, I trust, the Lord has of late been teaching me by His Spirit We prayed before parting. Home by half-past ten, greatly pleased with evening. ' Thursday^ Nov. 9. — Holiday as usuaL Read, nine to twelve, Monsell on Plymouthism, and greatly interested in the questions it opens up. I think his views of the institution of the ministry are quite wTong, but desire to sift them more thoroughly. '■Sunday^ Nov. 12. — Another Sunday; time rolls on ! At nine to Oratoire ; M. Pilet on Forgiving our Neigh- bour, etc. Walked to warm myself till twelve, read to one. Dr. Malan's at two ; at half-past three, B. M., Ker, and I had nice prayer-meeting in B. M.'s room. Began Timothy then, and interesting conversation \ took sacra- ment at six, at Dr. Malan's, at his request, and enjoyed it much ; home by half-past seven- Began Life of Felix Neff; it seems he died in this house, in B. M.'s room. * O Lord, give me Thy Holy Spirit, and amend my heart, and lead me in all my ways ! May I live only for Thee, recognise Thy love and faithfulness in all my circumstances, live by faith and hope ; and forasmuch as the time is short, and there are many heavenly wit- nesses of my course, may I press forward, under the Spirit's leading, for the prize of God's high calling in Christ. Lord, show me my work, and give me grace to execute it ; I have ceased to choose it for myself. Work in me and by me. 'John Mackintosh, •85 * Motiifay^ Nov. 13. — At seven, to private meeting of Plymouth Brethren in Isle. The topics rather rambling; yet instructive on that of the Holy Spirit's agency in believer : several spoke besides Mr. Darby. . . . The Brethren seem to carry the doctrine to a length to which I dare not follow them. It is a blessed doctrine that of the Spirit's individual and hourly guidance ; but to be used with much humility and discretion. The Christian is to seek it earnestly, and to walk in the general faith of it ; but so many are the corruptions still within him, that he should at no time confidently assert that the Spirit moves him ; but knowing the treachery of his heart, cast ever a humble upward eye — test the fact by the result — imputing all that is plainly good to the oper- ations of the good Spirit, and mourning over the error as his own. The more tremblingly we walk in this way, the less likely will we be to act of ourselves, and consequently the safer and holier will be our conduct. While the one is presumption, considering the existence of the old man still within us ; the other does not imply want of faith in God mingled with a holy jealousy and fear of ourselves. ' They then got off the unity of the Church (of which they wished to speak), upon the parable of the Ten Virgins, in relation to Christ's coming, and the situation of His Church. This seems a very favourite parable as illustrating their views ; but I was not much arrested by anything I heard. * I could not but be sad at the general strain of the meeting, groping, one and all, in Scripture, often upon important points, and speaking very much at random, without any solid conclusions. How different, thought I, from a prayer-union in Scotland, where the facts are \vA r ^i;!! i86 Memorials of admitted — thanks to the early training of the people — and all that remains (certainly not the least important part), is to realize them to edification. Hence there is no contradiction; no looking for a supernatural en- lightenment, or for what is only to be got in conjunction with much patient study and search in the closet ; nor a looking for what may be got suddenly on such an oc- casion as when two or three are met together, a " felt power " (as it is called), or " a feeling of the power of the truth." Home by ten. * Nov. 1 6. — Again with Scherer. He spoke of Ar- nold, Neander, and Vinet, as the three bright stars whom he loved to think of in a religious point of view. He too had been struck with the prominence given to the person of Christ in Arnold's life. Spoke of this as the grand point in Christianity which gave to the Christian justification and sanctification with daily warmth and comfort. * Wednesday y Nov. 22. — Read sermon by A. Monod, very eloquent ; I should say English eloquence. Fore- noon, full of longings for quickening and unity of Christians and churches everywhere, by the outpouring of the blessed Spirit. This doctrine, that we live under the economy of the Spirit, par excellence^ is forcing itself more upon me ; yet the coming of Christ is necessary and greatly desired, not only by the Church, but by the Spirit Himself, who is now the Church's guide and property. " The Spirit and the Bride say, Come." ^Saturday, Dec. a. — ^To-night, a converted Roman Catholic, but very young Protestant, whose tenets given out at table shocked me some days ago, overtook me after tea, and showed disposition to converse quietly yohn Mackintosh. 187 tly and modestly, as feeling he had much to learn. O my God, open up a path for doing good, and give me grace and wisdom, for my blessed Lord's sake. ' Sunday ^ Dec. 17. — To-day the collection for missions is being made in Scotland. My heart overflowed with earnestness, that God would bless those missions, and put it into the heart of His people and servants to come nobly forward to their aid. I could not think of the subject without weeping tears of joy at what God has done for us, for the missions, and for my own poor soul ; tears of shame at our stinted gratitude and efforts for Him, at my own lukewarmness hitherto. O Lord, let Thy Spirit be within me as a burning fire, as a live coal, filling me with love, zeal, and devotion to Thee. May I henceforth recognise this one end in life — Christ — and to make known His name among my fellow-crea- tures, and all around me. * Dec. 27. — Morning thought over arguments of na- tural and revealed religion, for the first time in my life, feeling what it would be to doubt rather than doubting. Putting myself in such a position was cold, and for a time with difficulty could I come back to intimate re- freshing thoughts of Him whose credentials, so to speak, I had been testing. After all, not to enter here into the conclusions at which I arrived, the more I meditate the more I set value for the individual himself, at least on the experimental evidence. If God be so and so, if Christ be so and so, if the Spirit be so and so, let me put these assumptions to the trial. My belief, may I say my experience is, when this is sincerely done, the fire will always come down from heaven and testify to the fact. * Saturday y Dec. 30. — Forenoon finished " Sterling's Memoir." I feel the reading of the book has wonder- y i88 i : !l: ! yi m Alemorials of fully quickened my interest in the Christian argument and all relating to it, and may thus hope the book has been providentially put in my way. O Lord, give me in humility and prayer, fitness to study those subjects. Let Thy Spirit lead me into all truth, and fit me for being useful to others, and especially to Thy little ones in turning aside the assaults of thtir enemies. The ex- perimental evidence which they enjoy, most philoso- phical ai.d reasonable in itself, has greatly risen in my esteem. I desire to realize it more in myself, as my buckler in studying the others. '■Sunday, Dec. 31. — Meditated on past year, and en- deavoured to confess and feel humbled for my sins, above all, my selfishness in so often seeking my own ends and not Christ's. I bless God for His faithful- ness, as well as His rich goodness throughout this year ; and now I desire to cast myself upon Him for that on which I am about to enter. I desire to live wholly to His glory, and to make great progress in His love, in self-denial, in the love of my neighbour, in humility, faith, perseverance, and devotedness. I feel, that ex- cept God undertake for me, I must end where I began, and have again to review a year of resolutions, falls, and endeavours at repentance. But, O God ! Thy grace is omnipotent and all-sufficient. "Thy Spirit is good ; lead me into the land of uprightness." Oh ! if I be indeed Thy servant, and a chosen vessel for bearing Thy name, fit me, I pray Thee ; set Thy stamp and likeness upon me, and the praise shall be Thine. May every faculty of body, mind, and spirit, every moment, and every possession, be entirely consecrated to Thee, and to Thy service. May Thy peace dwell in my heart. May I be as a little child, obeying Thine eye, and yokn Mackintosh. 189 having the habitual consciousness that I am pleasing God. Lord, bless my dear family and friends, and make me more faithful and useful to them than in time past. Bless also those among whom I am now placed.' TO HIS MOTHER. ' November 18. * My darling Mother, — I am in receipt of both your last letters; and if you could but know the joy they gave me, you would not think your time in writing them misspent The last solemnized me very much. First, to hear that another of those I so lately visited had been called away ; next, to hear that cholera was so near you, attd in such an alarming degree. How often we have walked by Robert Paterson's without thinking such a mortality was so nigh. But I have found great comfort in God, our adorable Father and Saviour, com- mitting you into His hands, as one near me and near you, who by His omnipresence strides over the great distance between us, and, as it were, brings us close to one another. In a moment my thoughts, my prayer to Him, may be conveyed to you in the way of blessing. Precious doctrine, precious faith ! Oh, then, let us live near each other, in each other's company, by living near the throne ! He is not a far-off God, but one who loves that we should nestle beneath His wings in Jesus Christ How often I picture you in your various rounds, and how happy I am that from last winter's experience I know all your ways. God bless you, enrich you, and comfort you in them all. It interests me exceedingly to hear of the poor and others around. Pray remember me expressly to my friends Miss M'Leod, the Petleys, the M?.nse, poor Ellen, Robert, the girl Ker, Old Jean, ^w i t ) I* I I \'l . I 190 Memorials of and poor Mrs. Ruthven, with others. Also very par- ticularly to Mr, and Mrs. Pitcaim, to the former of whom I shall one day write. For myself, goodness and mercy continue to follow me.' ■ i i ;i TO THE SAME. * December 19. * . . . Many thanks for your two letters. They have afforded me the usual satisfaction, and I have perused them the usual number of times. ... I have little news for you. We have had some very remarkable fogs for nearly a fortnight ; but they do not affect me as the Lasswade ones used to do, though they are very dense and cheerless. One day last week I made a party to climb the Mount Sal^ve, and after reaching a little village a considerable height, we all at once emerged from the mist. The sun was shining brightly and powerfully from an unclouded sky. The long line of the Jura summits overtopped the mist. Everything above rejoiced ; but below there lay the heavy rolling sea, a few hill-tops like islands appearing out of it, but all else buried beneath — Geneva with its thousands of people, and its traffic, rivers, lake, steamboats. It gave me an idea of Herculaneum, with mist for lava, and consequently life for death. The effect of the church bells ringing below was very curious.* . • • TO THE SAME. * December 26. *I await with trembling interest the resuH of last Sun- day's collection for India Missions. In my view, it was the most critical day for the Free Church since 1843, and I trust to hear of something overwhelming to indi- vm John Mackintosh, 191 cate that we consider missions as equally important with home efforts. I should like to hear that from £20 to 40,000 had been put into the plate. I am con- fident the decline of the Sustentation Fund is due to our neglect of missions, and that the constant cry of home is short-sighted policy. It makes one's heart bleed to read those noble accounts from India, to hear of the wide door opened, and then to talk of curtailing the missions. I do not know if it be love to Christ ; but I have not been so moved for years as in interced- ing last Sunday for this great cause ; and oh ! I trust that my spirit told the travail of the Church at home, as a shell is said, if applied to the ear, to tell the state of the ocean, however distant, from which it came.' TO REV. N. MACLEOD. * November 26. *My beloved Norman, — I shall not apologize for having been so long in writing ; for you know well you have been in my daily thoughts and prayers, as I have been in yours. 'Tis not easy to write here ; the hours of lecture, which I scrupulously attend, are so numerous, etc. etc. . . . Norman, there is much more life here ; and I know if you were here you would be delighted — shall I say enthusiased — ^with not a few things that are going on. * First, as to the Evangelical Society of Geneva, you know their three grand departments are — colporteurs; missionaries in France ; and the theological school, for training up ministers to labour in the French countries of the Continent, and elsewhere. The two former schemes have been greatly and signally blessed, so as, > u r »!' 5 l'^ 11 -I ' iji; I i i' 1 vm >\ 'r hi iV r 192 Memorials of indeed, to stamp mockery — from the simplicity of the means employed, but employed in faith — on many of our petrified ministries. The funds of the Society re- ceived a severe shock last summer, which obliged them to prepare all their agents for the possibility of being discharged; and nothing can exceed the beauty, sim- plicity, and Christian faith of the replies which they received to their circulars. As it is, although many churches and individuals came to their aid, they have been obliged greatly to reduce their stafif ; but I trust the Lord only permits it for a season, to try their faith. Do the people of Scotland help them as they ought 1 They disclaim all identification with parties, and very properly; for the very fact of their being a Society, and not a Church, is, that they may form a vehicle, like the Bible Society and others, for the efforts of all Christians in this field of simple evangelization. Next, the theological school. It is admirably supplied ; the course is very complete. They have lectures on Intro- duction to the Old and New Testaments, Church history, exegetic, apologetic, polemic, systematic, symbolic, homiletic, and pastoral theology. The professors are five in number — D'Aubignd, Gaussen, Pilet, La Harpe, and Scherer ; the last comparatively a young man of great parts and great promise, and a great admirer of Arnold. 'Each professor lectures on various subjects, and thus the course is overtaken. Perhaps the same remark applies to theirs, as to most lectures — that what they say would be better learned from books ; but this is very much matter of opinion. Scherer's lectures are undoubtedly admirable, and not to be otherwise re- placed. He has been lecturing on Catholicism, and yohn Mackintosh, »93 goes very profoundly into principles, which he treats with much originality, alluding, in his way, to the lead- ing works of recent times on the subject — as Mahler's in Germany, and Newman's in England. He has that air of pensive thought which you find in Pascal, saved from gloom by his vigorous realization of the person of Christ, as the true home for the lonely heart — a fact, alas ! in our Christianity, which comes in often at the very circumference, if it finds a place in it at all. Nay, but it must be the very centre starting-point of our faith; and if we miss it in our system, I can well understand a vigorous and thirsty spirit like Newman's wandering on from one dogma to another, and still unsatisfied. But to return from this digression. The students, numbering about thirty, are drawn from all parts of the French- speaking world, including Canada; and truly, I know not where else they could go at present for a sound theological training; so that this department of the Society is amply justified by its necessity. The course of study in the hall is three years ; and each session consists of nine months. There is one very useful branch of the training which I ought to mention. It is that of practical homiletics, conducted once a week by Pilet, the preacher to the Oratoire. The student brings his plan of a sermon ; the other students then criticise, and perhaps suggest a better ; and lastly, the professor points out the errors, and gives his own idea. He is a most remarkable preacher himself, and therefore well able to give advice. D'Aubign^'s lectures, I may say, on the early Christian Church, are a good deal of the Mosheim cast; for he cannot be dramatic among so many dry bones as the Fathers and Apologists ; but his piety and zeal for the extension of Christ's kingdom are N ! 1 '« 194 Memorials of so beautiful and ardent, that every day one is quickened, though it be but a few words. * I must now tell you of the attempt which has been made, and which I think has succeeded, to unite the Evangelical Churches here upon a wide but scriptural basis. Their articles are published; suffice it to say, that in doctrine there are seventeen, embracing the usual fundamental points, clearly and briefly stated. Then on the constitution, embracing government, worship, and discipline, there are twenty-one. It is here that they are most liberal. The government is, in the main, Presby- terian ; but they admit all varieties of form in worship, encourage the ministry of elders and the laity (a term not liked here) for edification, and admit even Baptists into their communion. Indeed, the two points I should be most disposed to question, are their practice in regard to the two sacraments. They hold infant baptism, but admit Baptists and churches; and in regard to the Lord's Table, their article is as follows : — * LEglise, consid^rant la table de la Cine dresste par elle^ non comme sa propre table mais comme celle du Seigneur^ y accueille tons les membres de lafamille de Dim.^ Acting on this principle, any one may present himself, and no token or examination is required. There are three things to be regarded in arriving at this union, which are well stated by D'Aubignd, in last year's report of the Evangelical Society. They are, u/. That the spiritual must precede the external ; otherwise we fall into the error of Ro- manism. 2^, An absolute uniformity in rules, and other non-essentials, is not to be looked for ; it did not obtain even in apostolic times. 3//, The union must be gradual, and not forced ; otherwise heterogeneous elements will soon clash. M^ yohn Mackintosh, >95 *The ecclesiastical world here is much distracted by Plymouthism. The sect, through the labours of Mr. Darby, has multiplied greatly in this and the neighbour- ing countries ; — ^you know that they discard the ministry altogether. A very prominent place is given to all the facts of Christ's work — accomplished, present, and to come. The present economy of the Holy Spirit is also powerfully realized, and is, I think, exaggerated. Mr. Darby is accused here of doing much evil, by causing schism ; but he has given an impulse to so many great doctrines, which all admit, and which, perhaps, but for his schism, would not have excited so much attention, that I can fancy the good to have preponderated over the bad. In addition to the great doctrines I have noticed above, no doubt every Christian ought to con- sider, more than is usual among us, his obligation to preach Christ by his life, and otherwise. * But I must have wearied you, dear Norman, with all this talk. You must write me soon; won't you? telling me, besides family matters, any subjects or views that have been of late occupying your own spirit. ... O to be more instructed in that great mystery — God manifest in the flesh ! I cry out for this knowledge, which the Spirit can alone give me, and which I believe to contain a mine that is inexhaustible. I am not without hopes that the light is breaking upon me, and that my heart is in its love grasping a Person instead of being content with a mere set of well-regulated opinions — to which from our early education in religion we are so prone. God give you too, to advance in this knowledge, for its depths never can be reached. — Your very fondly •attached, ' J. M.' ' I, II r I ; I ;l |i 1 I M t: * u; |! i ii a1 I 196 Memorials of TO REV. W. MADDEN. * December 14. * My very dear Madden, — The memory of my visit to Reading is still fragrant. Often do I picture to my- self your happy little home, and wish myself again its inmate. God grant we may yet have many meetings beneath each other's roof during our term of pilgrimage and service here below ! . . . I trust you are both well and happy, possessed of that peace which passeth all understanding. I trust we are seeking to live more in the habitual presence of our blessed Lord, and in the communion of His gracious Spirit. It is want of faith that prevents us from hearing His voice ever in our ears, saying, " This is the way, walk thou in it," and enjoying the consciousness that we are pleasing Him. Inef- fable love and condescension, to admit us to such a privilege I How humbling, how encouraging, how safe ! let us sit at His feet as children, and learn of Him, and have our hearts filled with His love. I send a kiss to dear baby. — Receive my very tenderest affection, and believe me ever your loving friend, J. M.' ^ Monday ^ Jan. 9, 1849. — My birthday, aged twenty; seven. O Lord, anew I desire to give myself to Thee. Despise me not, reject me not ; but take me as I am, and make me what Thou wouldst have me to be. Enable me to deny self, and to do Thy will continu- ally in this year, and all the years of my life. Enable me to redeem the time ; guide me in ray preparations for the ministry, preserve me from all error, and lead me into all truth, for Christ my Redeemer's sake. Amen. * Forenoon, study; walk with B. M. and K., afternoon. yohn Mackintosh. "97 Dear fellows, they gave me birthday presents in the evening, which quite overcame me. God bless them ! * Wednesday^ Jan. 31. — Evening, M. Scherer's. He spoke of Vinet — his tenderness of conscience and gentleness as a critic — his sensibility, often weeping as he read a fine passage, which he did with great power. Showed me some of his letters and mss., written in very neat, small, accurate, philological hand, with many erasures and corrections. He often sent long list of such corrections afterwards, sometimes proposing mere change of word. * M. Scherer is about to publish critique of his moral and theological works and character. Showed me his note-book, with some fine thoughts, especially of Vinet's. Such as, short but pregnant character of Voltaire, etc. Also such expressions as this : Lafoi a sa raisouy et la raison a safoi. * Thursday^ Feb. 22. — Started from Sallenches for Cha- mouni ; glorious road by Servoz, where had brown bread and cheese. All very silent from sublimity of mountains and glaciers. Sky harmoniously wild ; snow deep and sufficiently firm. Chamouni, in dark, by seven. Hotel de la Couronne ; capital dinner — bishop, and sent for Balmat ; gave him Professor Forbes's note. Very nice man — ^long talk — he overjoyed to see us. ' Friday, Feb. 23. — Charming beds, breakfast, and as I could not think of quitting Chamouni so soon, got leave of rest to go by Tete Noire. B. M. generously offered to accompany me. After breakfast looked at maps which Balmat gave us, at his cabinet, and then to source of Arveiron ; day superb, north wind and glorious sky ; route to Montanvert impassable. Some deep wading through snow to reach source, very very small. At m ,1 1" 198 Memorials of two, Ker and Reid left. I went with them nearly to Les Ouches ; glorious walk. The Aiguille du Dm rising out of its forest of ice-pinnacles, and seen against the clear blue sky, was fine beyond description. At half-past four called on the cur^ of Chamouni, with B. M. ; friend of Professor Forbes ; very warm welcome. Wrote our names for hint I put after mine Un qui aitne le Seigneur^ et tous ceux qui Faiment. * Saturday^ Feb. 24. — Breakfast, and started at a quarter-past eight with Balmat Glorious day ; anni- versary of last French Revolution : what a contrast here ! Went by Val d'Argenti^re, saw and crossed recent avalanche which had killed a woman ; passed villages, ascended opposite glacier of Tour, by Les Montets, Snow deep, but hard ; beautiful descent to Valorsine, Aiguilles rouges, Buet, etc, beautiful. Tete Noire, valley superb ; what rock-colouring, what gran- deur, what contrasts ! I felt intoxicated. Lunch at Trient ; crossed col., pretty steep, and descended on Martigny; high wind on Forclaz, at top of col. Saw Jungfrau and other grand Alps. Sion, and valley of Rhone, very picturesque — descent very slippery, at which I got on badly ; other two went like sledges ; passed Burg Martigny, and to Hotel de la Tour at five. Balmat, long chat ; he very unwilling to take aught ; but paid him for three days, which he had to be forced to accept. * Lord, fill our hearts with gratitude for Thy many mercies, and grant that this excursion may strengthen us in body, and mind, and spirit, for Thy blessed service. • ''Friday., June i. — Always memorable day, having been for many years associated with much pleasure. John Mackintosh, 199 This day, in 1841, I quitted London with the Profea- sor, en route for Continent ; my first visit. At this season, in 1843, I visited Oxford. Last year I set off in my glorious and hallowed tour to Deeside, and after- wards Geddes. This morning rose at half-past five; •ate enough, considering what was before us. Called B. M., and packed knapsack and bag; breakfasted, said good-byes, and started by Diligence. My health is indifferent, confirmed cough, which reconciles me to a trip at this time. Enjoyed much the beautiful day and scene, spite of this low state of my mercury. * Thursday^ June 7. — Called in middle of sound sleep, so half asleep all day ; descended as others were finish- ing breakfast ; endeavoured to contribute to happiness of others, and never mind my own. After breakfast, with guide to La FMgbre. Met F^te Dieu procession. Mont Blanc must have been familiar with such sights through Middle Ages onwards ; but not the less . re they in terrible discord with the grandeur of nature's temple. Balmat accompanied me en route. Day lovely, pursued my way alone, meditating on past ; but some- how Chamouni has lost for me the glory and the dream it had eight years ago — health not very robust may have somewhat to do with this — botanized, meditated, sung. I remember as though it were yesterday, doing the very same thing in 1841. * Sunday y July 22. — My last Sunday here, d.v. O Lord, anew I give myself to Thee ! ' After many tender partings he finally left Geneva. * Tuesday y July 24. — We watched,' he says, * Geneva fading from our view, and all the old familiar spots ; then wrapped ourselves in silence, till we reached Lau- sanne. La Fleur left us at Nyon ; Lausanne by half- • w *|4i-,ii :|i ^ ^¥}lii;p 11 200 Memorials of past one; our windows command the lake, and die opening of the Fort de I'Ecluse shows us the position of Geneva, and carries our thoughts over the past nine months. What mercies i what communions 1 what pri- vileges and opportunities ! What sorrows and anxieties as well as joys ! What vistas insensibly opened up to our spirits ! What shortcomings, feeblenesses, un- faithfulness ! Lord, accept our thanks. Lord, pardon ; Lord, forgive. Continue thy loving-kindness to us, and sanctify whatever was of Thee in the past to Thy glory. Ameu and Amen t I I I \\ m W jfokn Mackintosh, 201 CHAPTER VIII. Geneva, 1849— Letters 'o **>* R*^- N. Macleod, to his Mother, to A. Hamilton, Esq., Miss Hunter Blair, to his Youngest Sister, to Robert Balfour, Estj., to the Rev. W. Madden, the Rev. William Ktf. TO THE REV. NORMAN MACLEOD. • Geneva, Jan. 2, 1849. * , , , I received your thrice welcome letter on Sunday, and had tlie satisfaction of opening and reading it on New Year's Day, as you desired. The horrible practice of having their public services in church at nine o'clock took me out at that hour, broke up my New Year's Day, and so has prevented me from ' first-foot- ing' you, by writing yesterday. I choose, however, to consider this as a prolongation of the first day of the year. I make it so to myself in respect of quiet home thoughts, and I make it so to you by inditing this Benedicite. It is impossible for me to tell you the joy your letter gave me, not only for its sweet scent of home, at this season so grateful to an alien ; but also for its communication of thought I have no doubt I have often heard you in conversation express the same sentiments, but we ponder what is written more than what is spoken. I hope, therefore, you will not consider it lost time to write to me again and again. It is instruction, and that is part of your ofiice. There m i.M ■ U I 11 I ! M \U ra' i! « i' ?i' I .; m 202 Memorials of is, besides, a progressive development of mind of which we must all be conscious. The same truths to me now are not what they were three, two, one year ago. It is to me perfectly marvellous how slow the spirit is in opening its eyes to take in the deeper mean- ing of things with which it has long been familiar. You reproach ypurself, I observe, for only now possess- ing what you might have had a score of years ago. I beg to differ from you, from a pretty wide induction. The result seems small, but so it is \ our nature was not up to it till the moment we possess it, and an extra- ordinary process of preparation, error, and experience was necessary even for that. In this view I cannot but trace another of those mysterious analogies between the history of the world within us, and the world at large. What ages did the wisdom of God see fit should pass, and what a slow and gradual advance through signs and symbols ere the God-man was actually manifested ! But you will think I am forgetting myself. Only I will say this, in conclusion, upon the subject, that I daily wonder how long I have been conversant, yea posi- tively glib^ with the book-work — the algebra of subjects, take for example the Christian evidences or doctrines, without penetrating into their real weight and force as presented, not to the spirit of Paley, Chalmers, or anybody else, but — to my own. We, students, are ter- ribly overlaid — the remark is general all the world over — with the opinions of others, and very little stimulated to think for ourselves. The result will soon be appal- ling, and will demonstrate either the blindness or the sin of the system \ for it sometimes has proceeded from a Protestant Popery. Confessions are to us, what the Church is to the Romanists. These remarks are, in John Mackintosh, 203 part, suggested by your letter \ but for many years they have been forcing themselves upon me, and of late have been much deepened. Even when our eyes- are partially opened, it is as much to see the crowd of things which our spirits have yet to sift, as to discern a little increase of light on one or two of them. And in spiritual sub- jects, what constant prayer and faith are requisite to retain the light, so subtle is its character, or rather so subtle is the counter tendency of our materialism. How soon, on that fundamental subject for hourly ex- perience, of which I wrote before, does the person de- generate into the personality, so that we take and make a doctrine of it, on which to discourse occasionally, and then shelve it. . . . Have you happened to read Hare's Memoir of John Sterling 1 It gives an alarming picture of that sad process going on among some of the finest spirits at the English Universities, of which John Shairp used to tell us, but of which this is the first specimen I have seen brought to light. I wish you would read it I think you will agree with me that Hare is not very likely to be of use in muzzling or extracting the teeth from the German doctrines as they reach Engl ad, however competent he may think himself for the task. From what you have read of Stanley's, should you think even him likely to prove a judicious guide ? or where do your hopes lie for the unfledged thinkers and theologians in England ? I read some of Scott's testi- monials from Carlyle, Maurice, and others ; and as these are men who use words advisedly, he must really be a remarkable fellow. Don't forget to tell me about your interview with him j for, as Johnson used to say, it is an epoch in this life to meet a superior person. You say nothing of John Shairp ; as you will probably I , ^ 1 111' liil •fll' i -1 ■ ( RHil I! . l.i--'- - M ■ t 204 Memorials of see him at this time, pray tell me about him, and give him my masonic love.' TO HIS MOTHER. *yan. ro. * , . . How much the example of good and devoted men (or women) stimulates us ! I sometimes wonder from this why we, or perhaps I should say I, am not more moved and stimulated by the life of our blessed Lord than I am and ought to be. Perhaps it is because we cannot so easily regard it as a whole, from the weight of each passage, and the slowness with which we are compelled and accustomed to read it. Nevertheless, I believe that we should saturate ourselves more with this all-perfect character as a whole, seeking to have His person defined to our minds and spirits, not ac- cording to our own notions, but as the Gospels give it to us, that so we may hold communion with Him as with our best known friend, and, from associating with Him, be conformed to His likeness. If you will tell me from time to time, as you sometimes used to do in our walks, the various aspects under which He reveals Himself to you at various periods, you will confer a great favour on me, and do my heart good. It is to babes and children that He loves to show Himself, and I desire to cherish this spirit. ... * The time is drawing nigh when your thoughts, dear- est mother, will revert to sadness ; but I trust that, as hitherto, you will experience still more that truth, " that God is the husband of the widow," and be enabled so to realize heavenly things as to feel that in them there is far more than a compensation for all else. Such a God, such a Saviour, such a Spirit, Sanctifier, and yohn Mackintosh, 205 Comforter^ such hopes, such promises, such present love and heavenly communion ! You may believe that I shall be ipore than usually earnest in remembering you before the throne. I need not say to you write me soon, for your kindness in this respect has been beyond all, especially my deserts. I feel we are to each other, what no one else could now be to either of us, and I feel also that this love is infinitely strengthened by the thought that it is in Christ, and that we hope to remain united in a better country beyond the grave. TO THE REV. N. MACLEOD. ' February 2. , . . May it not be said that the movement of our age is towards life? I sometimes fancy that I can dis- cern three epochs in the Reformed Churches, corre- sponding in the main to those three weighty epithets — ma, Veritas^ vita. The Reformers themselves no doubt laid the stress chiefly upon the first i^ia). It was on this Popery had gone most astray, obscuring the doc- trine of justification by faith alone. The epoch follow- ing was essentially dogmatic {veritas), when the Doctors drew up " systems " of the truth. It was now, indeed, Christ as Veritas, but the dogma taken alone led to cold- ness, dogmatism, sectarianism, and formality. Happy will it be for the Church, if, not forgetting the other two, she shall now be found moving on to the third development of Christ as vita — tAe life, which will regulate the two former aspects, while it consummates and informs them This life must develop the individual, and on individuals the Church depends ; for in God's sight it is no abstrac- tion. O Norman ! as little centres of influence let us make it our first work to foster and exhibit this principle . Vh.. . m :i t a i I • i Mi n St' f! I: ; -IS: j n a it. u 1 !f-rt ' i ' ( 1; 206 Memorials of of life — living union with Christ Himself. Thus indeed may we " make our lives sublime," and eflfect more for the advancement of the kingdom of Christ-than if we had the eloquence and genius of the greatest orators. . . . This fine day carries my thoughts across the Jura to dear old Scotland, including England, and with all her foibles, peerless among nations for all that is do- mestic, romantic, holy, good. I do not think any foreigner can know the intense peacefulness amid which we are brought up from infancy, in the village with its church and common, or in the Highland glen, which no stranger-war, at least, has swept within the memory of maa We should have better ideas of heaven than other nations ; and I believe the sight of that calm holy scene in youth does more to anchor our souls through life than anything else save religion.* ^ ,; TO ANDREW HAMILTON, ESQ. ,? • 'Geneva, /v<5. 8, 1849. *My dear Andrew, — I was very happy to receive your letter. I have had many thoughts of you since the day you saw me in bed at Lasswade ; where you were, and what you were doing, a speck on the broad breast of heaving Germany. At last comes your letter, showing me how you have realized the very vision you contem- plated. How different the society, the ideas, the out- ward and inward life, amid which we have been respec- tively moving for the last three months ! Did you see Christmas in Germany, as Coleridge so exquisitely describes it? But you wish me to be egotistical : so I shall. We had a glorious autumn here on first arriving, but December and January were externally gloomy, W] yohn Mackintosh, 207 foggy, unnatural months. Now, however, the blessed sun again predominates, and in such circumstances, Geneva is a. charming place. ... I suppose, in your retirement, you have not yet come much in contact with German theology and opinions. We get an echo of them here, perhaps more true than that which reaches us in Scotland, across the channel. I fear that in some form or other they are certain to find their way exten- sively among us, and I hope, therefore, that some pro- vision will be made among our students and fiiture theologians to encounter them intelligently. Many of our opinions are traditional We receive them by in- heritance, and it is a goodly one; but I believe the time is near when we must make good our title to the inheritance by a more conscious mental and spiritual effort. I think if the study of German theology and opinions leads to this, it will do us much good. There is first the kernel to be possessed and held fast in the adorable person of the Lord Jesus — God historically manifest in the flesh, and profoundly adapted to all the wants of our spiritual being ; then there are the Scrip- tures which set Him forth in His person, character, and teaching. I feel we very much require to get back from doctrines and systems crystallized, into a more living and life-giving form of the truth. In other words, we must know, love, and have constant intercourse with Christ as our God, Saviour, Friend, and Brother ; and all the rest must and will emanate fi-om this. We must begin at the centre, and not at the circumference — which all systems are liable to do. Religion is love even more than light I believe a more diligent study of the Scriptures, with the Spirit and prayer, will emin- ently lead to this ; but we have too much neglected it ^ W^ * 1 ' ,11 \i: ^^H { i^' ^H g^f, w>^ ^^H 1 H i " : !| 1 , i 1. 4 I ' i 7 4 s ' 1 ' ( ^' ' " 1 ' ' i ' ) • i 1 , i C ] ■ ■'1 '*'i I 1 1 ( i ! "« f :- ■ < I ' i 1 :•;. : ' ! - 5 \ ■: i Iti t 'i 'i iff 11 : ; t ' '4 '' i , 'i ■ ■ .'■ f '■' I' ;■ S ' ■ n , t ■ i i 1 ■ i { " ■■P rl! ' IH T'l \' -' . 1 i ' M ! j ■ 1 i :M !,,i, ■'--■■--- y 4 I ■ j - ', i t il ni!h '! !■■ ■'i ■■. 1 . ! i ' f i 1 i '^ 1 Kj 1 ■ 208 Memorials of Well then, for the present adieu, praying that you may grow daily in this delightful and soul-satisfying knowledge.* TO MISS HUNTER BLAIR. * February ly. , . . 1 find much to interest me liere in a religious point of view ; so much life, and such a concentration of zeal and energy. There is nothing strikes me more than the prominent part taken by the laity in the advancement of Christ's kingdom, which, I think, sur- pa-^pp*? us as far as we surpass England in this respect It ; e^nT^ i" be wholesome both for ministers and people, warrar ;t*j ■ > Scripture, and agreeable to the practice of the errly Christians, that, while some have the special care o oor's, all -jclievers should contribute to advance the spiritual kiagdoiiij not only directly but indirectly. Our good laymen, in general, make sacrifices and under- take expenses ; but do not so much labour in their sphere, and in social church-meetings, to stir up the gift that is in them. The thought of this being required at their hands, promotes diligence in the closet ; gives greater reality to the life of God ; refreshes the Church, and none more than the minister himself, when he is weary and overwhelmed. There is one church here where an entire service each Sunday, and frequent meetings throughout the week, are devoted to this free exercise of the Christian priesthood. They seem de- sirous to make the Christian life really predominate over and pervade the secular, and so are not content to give it merely the comer and stated place which is still so common among us. I cannot help thinking that this diffusion and enhancing of Christian duties John Mackintosh. 209 and responsibility will be one of the great harbingers of a better day for the Church.' lis TO HIS YOUNGEST SISTER. ' Geneva, March 23. * . , . Dear spot (Geddes) 1 — ^how often my thoughts travel thither, and I wander once more by wood or stream or shady grove, or over the joyous fields with the lark shouting above my head, and the drone-bee humming by. What peace, what repose — patriarchal country ! Abraham might yet sit there by his tent door, in the heat of the day, and entertain angels unawares ! Ye glorious hills of Cromarty and Ross ! there is nothing more beautiful than you in the world — not Jura, not Ben Blanc, not the Alps.* Do you see the matchless colouring of the Black Isle — that perfect opening for the bay — those dreamy hills of Sutherland, and those * The following verses., penned at this time in Geneva, whatever poetic merit they possess, are interesting from their truthfulness of feeling, and the evidence they afford of the passionate attachment he had to his early home. They refer to the expedition to Geddes, in Chapter V. 'I stood alone on lone Macdhui's crest, I gazed abroad upon the glorious scene ; An agony of yearning seized my breast. In thinking of the pleasures that had been. Before me gleamed the rapid rolling Spey, And that great valley where my fathers sleep ; Long had I pined in Lowlands far away, And now, this vision ! how could I but weep? Yonder the road that bore me to my home ; Yonder the white- wall' d house of Aviemore ; All monumental of the thoughts that come In fits and gusts upon the days of yore. O ti 1 . X -M '.t. .a » ( 2IO Memorials of pinnacles westv/ard in Strathglass ? worthy of old Jove hinmself. God be with you, happy people, whose lot it is to dwell ever among such scenes, and to know nothing of the turmoil and strife that rend the world ! Study the Bible; for its atmosphere, at least, is there repro- duced, and abide the time when all the earth shall be- come as tranquil and as still under the Prince of Peace. My child, farewell I' m ■'« I! ii' TO ROBERT BALFOUR, ESQ. * Geneva, April xa^, 1849. * Mv DEAR Robert, . , , . As to the Academy, I trust to hear that Swinton's effort is succeeding. Some person wrote me that the Academy was on the eve of dissolution; but the statement in the Witness has set my mind at ease. No ; it must not perish ! its roots are struck too deep in many hearts for such a consum- mation. How fearful for a generation of men to be obliged to say the school of our boyhood is no more ; its very existence is a tradition only known to ourselves ! For my part, I should feel as if that chapter of my memory had been obliterated — as if I was a man who * Yonder Brae Moray with its well-known knock, That oft look'd down on days and rides of glee ; And yonder, too, as bright as if to mock The distance— yonder my beloved sea. Ah ! there must lie the scene of all my joy, That which gave tone to all my after life ; Geddes ! the birthplace of the dreamer-boy— Geddes ! O name with all heart-stirrings rife, O God, the past o'erwhelms me with a sense Of Thy great goodness to an erring child ; Father in Christ, my refuge and defence Continue Thou »mid life's tempests wild,* "*';■' yohn Mackintosh, 211 my who had never known a youth, launched upon the seas of life with no sweet haven to recur to and sustain the soul. It is agony enough to lose the masters that launched us forth ; but that the very walls should lose their place on earth — I can fancy nothing more terrible ! I should be gloomy all my days ; but away with such thoughts. The hallowed soil is watered with prayers, and I augur days for our children there, such as we ourselves have not known. I believe your staff will yet need some mend- ing, but the informing spirit is the Rector, and with him you seem abundantly content. All particulars, then, on this subject will interest me vastly. How strange it is that the halo of Greece and Rome, and also, I trust, of beloved Palestine itself, is indissolubly shed around our youth and the place of our education, and so blended with it that we cannot distinguish what part of our enthusiastic feelings connected with those countries is due to themselves, or simply to their association with the most imaginative, poetic, pensive period of our lives. I see the Rhone here, and what does it not recall of Hannibal and Csesar, and a host of others ? But would it be the same were I now, for the first time, made acquainted with those heroes of the olden time? — I think not. And as those feelings to me are worth the music of the skies, I say, by all means introduce your children early to such characters and scenes ; and I bless my parents, who saw fit so to introduce me. The mother's knee, the pastor's Sunday-school, the Sabbath- evening conversation, are perhaps the best associations for the patriarchs and the Holy Land ; but hallow the day-school with them too, and you add another link to the " electric, mysterious chain wherewith we are darkly bound." . I 212 Memorials o/ U * Now, dear Robert, farewell May the God of peace and of all grace be with you and dear Mrs. Balfour, to whom pray remember me affectionately ; also to Cleg- horn, T. Thomson, Maclagan, and other friends. I try to live upon my knees, and I find it is the only plan. My heart is knit to Geneva, chieily, I believe, because I have enjoyed here much communion with God in Christ. I find the more childlike and dependent I can keep my heart, the more I thrive ; and, above all, 1 find that an occasional cross is one of the richest token>> of a Father's love. I trust your experience has been kindred, and has exceeded mine. I never forget you in my prayers, although often feeble ; and I feel as if you did not forget me. — Your very afiectionate friend.* TO THE REV. W. &LADDEN. * April 27. *My very dear Wvndham, — ^Your letter refreshed me much, I cannot tell you how much ; and that sweet postscript from Mrs. Madden, that opens up such a view of domestic happiness, and makes me almost envious of your lot. Your vista in life appears plain — it is to breathe the atmosphere of heaven ; to be made acquainted with those trials of daily life that make the Bible sweet to us, and its promises most precious ; to know the joy that rises out of sorrow and suffering, so that earth will be serene and pleasant to you, but the thought of heaven still more so. This is what I picture, and perhaps even hope for you and your companion. I feel that my own lot is much more uncertain, and likely to be more full of trial ; but it is a haven to my soul to be able to think on such a path as yours. . . . I am so conscious of an ardent desire to serve Christ, yohn Mackintosh, 213 and to enter on the work of the ministry, from personal reasons as well as more important ones, that I can the more trust myself in resolving to take this step. It seems only the natural conclusion to such a visit as I have made here ; and always considering the feebleness of my capacity, I shall not think it lost if I receive only as much profit from it as I have done from a winter's residence at Geneva. It would be difficult for me to give you the results of this latter in so many words, for it consists more in an enlarged horizon, mentally, theologically and spiritually, than in definite acquisi- tions. Still my mind has gone through a process in many points, which must have been useful, even though it has only brought me back, I am happy to say, to what I held before, but which I now hold more intelli- . gently, more thankfully, more humbly. I speak espe- cially with regard to the evidences for the truth of Christianity, and the inspiration of the Sacred Record. I do think it is well for certain minds, and especially those which are to guide and guard others, to be shaken out of traditions, and brought to accept and welcome the truth as though they were the first to whom it had been presented. It becomes then a living element of our minds and hearts, and every after detail^ as well as every action of our lives, must feel this influence : commonplaces, unreal opinions, unreal words vanish, and we feel the freshness of the truth, and diffuse its savour all around.' ''I- " d 111 i TO THE REV. WILLIAM KER. ' Geneva, May 3. 'My dear Ker, — The thought of writing to you was simmering in my head when your letter to Bum Murdoch '% 'k . ^i; A 4 Li ' w 214 Memorials of arrived, and brought it to the point. Believe me, neither laziness nor aught else has delayed me, but the wish to allow an interval between our communications. Can it be that you are once more at home ; and, still more dreamlike, can it be that you were ever here, crossing the petit potit^ haunting the Socidtd de Lecture, looking on the Salfeve, visiting the Scherers, Stevensons, etc., with ourselves 1 It is indeed like " a dream remembered in a dream I" . . . And so now you are regarding the hills of Dumbarton and Argyllshire, and finding no fault with them in comparison of the Alps ! No more do I ; on the contrary, I am ready to maintain against all comers, that our hills surpass the Alps in everything except sublimity and silence, which is itself sublime. It is perhaps a merciful provision that every man stands up for his own. But who can call Mont Blanc his own, except old Winter? I am glad you are yet to have a few months' respite before mounting bavette^ and froc du charbonnier, as Colonel Saladin somewhat irreligiously calls the gown and bands — for those words, see Nugent. When the time comes, I have no doubt you will sit them very well, and entertain a due horror of such unlicensed meetings as are held at the Pelisserie here. I never took possession of your rooms ; I could not. I could neither quit my own little abode, where I had so often shivered during the winter, nor have your ghost, which I knew would haunt me by night and by day. So Chatelanat is now in the camera major, a roost being put in the comer where your books stood ; and so on Sundays the doleful violin takes the place of our more Christian worship. We visited the room, and heu quantum mutatus ab iUo. The other little room is still empty ; but La Fleur thinks of dropping into it when );• yohn Mackintosh, 215 the summer heat begins to roast the tiles, and through them, him. All else goes on as before. We meet in my room, and sometimes have Roux and La Fleur. Only there is no saying now when we may breakfast ; one would almost require to go to bed harnessed, for the first man up, be it nearer six than seven, rings the bell, and the whole set roll into their dressing-gowns, and are down at once, leaving B. M. and me to wash at our leisure. Claudine persists in the old routine of viands, so that if you chose you may even know each day what we are having for dinner ; and guess how we are digesting it It is remarked that B. M. smokes much less since he has lost your pernicious example. Did he tell you of Count St. George having presented us with some cigars to refresh us in our labours ? Since our excursion with Scherer, we have done n* ihing very deadly. I am glad to say he is gaining ground every day, but it is by a total cessation from work : he lectures, of course, as usual. The devices he falls upon for exer- cise are most amusing. In addition ) a daily bath in the Arve, he has taken to rowing on the lake till his hands are covered with blisters ; and the other day we found him scarcely able to walk — he had been to the riding-school, and not being allowed stirrups, had got a shaking till every bone and rib ached. We still dis- countenance the other lectures, and I am inclined to think Dr. Merle has forgiven us. He and Madame have several times inquired for you. You will soon see La Harpe. He gave us a famous breakfast before he went away. Reid and Stevenson were of the party. We assembled in his rooms, roaming at large through bed- room, drawing-room, study, etc., and delighting his heart by still further disarranging his books and papers. t 'II M . I r ! t i (' 2l6 Memorials of Then breakfast was announced in Robert's salle. It began with fowl and sausage, and ended with superb crime and eau de cerises; so that, in fact, it was a r'esum'e of all the meals of the day. We did it great justice, and so did he ; Stevenson nearly slew us with some of his stories. By the by, Scherer was there too, and ate and laughed till his face grew blue. . . . What shall I say of our weather now ? It is too heavenly ; towards the middle of April, it took it into its head to snow and blow, and be very disagreeable, but now and for a week back it is voluptuous — trees, hedges, all like to burst with beauty. You can have no conception of it ; and then the sounds and smells that remind us alike of home and old visits to the Continent 1 At this very moment (evening), the frogs are making a most characteristic row, which goes on all night \ so are the grasshoppers or rather crickets — to show that I do profit by my com- panion's science. Then the bees and the cockchafers, etc. ; oh ! how delicious. . . . Farewell, dear Ker ! I have filled this letter with gossip, not caring how it came, thinking you would like it best to remind you of the past. I trust we shall soon be brothers in arms as we have been this winter in repose. The Lord bless you and keep you, and cause his face to shine upon you. If you live in close union and communion with Jesus Christ, your ministry must be blessed, for out of the abundance of the heart your mouth will speak ; the humble will hear thereof and be glad. I trust that our ways are all ordered by Him who knows to lead us as our case requires, and in due time to place us where we shall be most useful. You are not forgotten in our prayers, social or private. Let us not be in yours.' yoJin Mackintosh* 217 TO HIS MOTHER. * Geneva, May 8. * My darling Mother, — I had been expecting your letter for two or three days, with an account of your stay at , and your communion at Edinburgh, and was on the point of writing you to-day, when lo ! your beloved hand. Many, many thanks for both, so refreshing to a heart that is far from you, but loves you more than its ownself. Truly there is force in that simile of " Good news from a far country." I wonder how old Solomon could have known the feeling, for it is not likely he was ever far away from those he loved ! I liked exceedingly the idea of your going to Portobello, first communicated to me by in her delightful letter ; and pictured to myself all last week your walks on the beach, your simple tea, and the novelty altogether of your situation on waking and on going to rest. I hope the change has done you good ; but, after all, you were chiefly in Edinburgh, and then that too long walk afterwards at this season of the year, from which I do hope you are all three recovered. I know the road well by the Duke's Walk, having often paced it in anguish and sorrow, and a long hot walk it is. By and by, we may make such a sea-shore escapade together, and walk at evening by the boundless sea, talking of what we have read and done, but, above all, of our aspirations, and that shore- less eternity that awaits us, and that boundless ocean of the love of God in which we can ever bathe, but which shall afterwards fill our heart to overflowing. I am truly glad you had such a sweet season at the com- munion. You might have felt I was with you in spirit and in prayer, as was the case. " My Lord and my God 1 " Yes, it is to address Christ thus as if seemg s • Ml If rfe 2l8 Memorials of Him face to face, conversing with him as a man with his friend ; it is this that overpowers our souls, humbles us in the dust, under a sense of unlimited love and kind- ness, and makes us daily taste of heaven upon earth. What majesty, what beauty, what purity, what compas- sion, what grace, what tenderness, what strength ! Ah 1 yes, He is our all in all. Without Him, undone ; when we come to Him, vile ; when we are with Him, vile, but not despised, not abhorred, not cast oflf — no ; welcomed, washed, clothed, justified, sanctified, pre- sented with a new heart and new affections fitted to reflect His own image, and to live and do something for His glory. Alas ! that we should ever leave his feet, and be content to live without hearing his voice from hour to hour, and experiencing His sweet regard. It is the Christian right and duty to be ever in this position ; and I trust, as we grow in grace, this blessed lot is becoming more and more ours.' TO THE REV. N. MACLEOD. ' Geneva, May ii, 1849. ' My dear Norman, — I thank you from the bottom of my soul for your last letter. So you have been to Lon- don and Paris % Tell me about this. I saw your name in Galignani. Did you see anything characteristic at Paris, in the shape of Socialist demonstration or the anniversary of the Republic ? How odd to think you were so near me, and yet unapproachable. I hope both you and your sister have much enjoyed and pro- fited by your raid ; but oh, remember the halycon days of this time last year, and do not, do not say that this year's doings have surpassed them ! When the balmy freshness of those mornings at the Priory, the sweet yohn Mackintosh. 219 repose, the retirement from all strife and din in that happy valley, the mirror of heart to heart, the contentment with the present, the aspirations for the future — then the poetic walks and wanderings, the merry, merry, evenings ; — trust me, Jane and Norman, Jack and Annie, Geneva with its Rhone and lake, its Mont Blanc and Jura, has not, shall not, cannot efface them from my heart. It was this very time. I wish I could once more unite the same parties in the same circum- stances, putting quid pro quo, and writing 8 for 9 in the signature of the year. But it may not be : we must be forward with the younger time ; and who can say what destinies await us as individuals, as who can say what awaits the nations of the earth ! My own feeling for the latter is, that everything and every man of emi- nence, and every nostrum that is proposed, is ust — spent, worn out, effete, belonging tt> a past order of things, but having little to do, except in order of time, with the events and men and principles of the future. All politics and all newspapers of every country and clime disgust and pall me in this respect. I pant for something betokening freshness, youth, whether in Church or State ; but nowhere or nearly nowhere do I see any s)niiptoms of it Do you share this feeling with me, or does your sanguine nature buoy you up ? I know indeed the morning will arrive, and I trust that our generation will inaugurate it ; but in the meantime, it is wearisome to grope amid a crumbling civilisation. . . . Well, Norman, write me soon about Tu^ and I shall here devote a few lines to Ego and his plans. About the end of June, I think of quitting Geneva (d.v.), and if my mother consents to it, which I expect to hear soon, shall make a tour in Switzerland — your >i i * t 1 i I 220 Memorials of ear, if you please, that I may whisper it in tones that Zephyrus himself could not imitate — shall perhaps visit Rome III O no ! it cannot be ! I cannot believe my own writing, still less the possibility of accomplishing a purpose so divine ! Of course it would be old Rome that I should visit, and I should implore my friends to pray that I might retain my reason — for such a current from the past and resurrection from my boyhood, might be fatal to a head very easily turned ! The Forum, the Capitol, the Via Sacra, the Tiber, Apennines, Cam- pagna ! my hand quivers — I must stop. Oh ! shades of school-fellows, scattered or gathered ! Oh ! shades of teachers, can it be I shall yet see where those lived and died who inspired you — where Virgil, and Horace, and ! Well, this raving is for thyself only. After Rome, Germany beckons me ; maybe Berlin for a session, ere I return home and buckle on mv harness. Norman, farewell 1' i yohn Mackintosh. 221 CHAPTER IX. Leaves Geneva — Vevay — Lausanne — Letter to Rev. N. Macleod— Berne — Zurich — Letter to his Sister, Mrs. E. Smith — Fribourg— Ascent of the Righi — Letter to his Mother — Rapperschwyll — Einsie- deln — Lake of Wallenstadt — Interview with a Swiss Merchant — Rei- chenau — ^Tusis — The Via Mala — Spliigen Pass. John Mackintosh left Geneva at the end of July, after having spent nine months there, during which hte enjoyed great happiness, realizing much intellectual good from the calm and undisturbed pursuit of con- genial Studies, and much heart good from daily inter- course with congenial minds. He more than once expresses his deep gratitude for all the kindness re- ceived by him from his friends, ' the St. Georges, the Malans, Stevensons, and Scherers j' and confesses that he ' left his old home at Champel with tears.' He had now fully resolved * to see Rome also.' But before doing so, he took an excursion for a month through those parts of Switzerland which he had not hitherto visited. His friend, Mr. Alex. Bum Murdoch, accompanied him part of the way. The weather wr.s glorious. Starting from Geneva, they sailed along its lovely lake to Villeneuve, at its eastern extremity ; and via Aigle, they set off on foot for the Ormonds Dessus by Sepey. ^July 26. — At Aigles starting on foot for Les Ormonds Dessus by Scpey, lovely walk, realizing all my youthful !i v\ ' '!.t \ " > ,1 1 H'l 1 ■ ,' .*j: i: Ma y|i'' r I, 222 Memorials of dreams of Swiss scenery, the marvellous green svvards, the lovely chAlets, the smiling simplicity of the fore- ground, backed up by Alpine grandeur. Reached our inn at L'Eglise about ten, moonlight, and enchanting night. * Friday, July 27. — Started at seven, took up valley towards Col de Fillon, Les Diablerets overhead, but overshrouded in mists. Crossed high col to left, whence saw solitary green lake of Amen, cradled among the hills, took sharp to left over another low col, touched at chilet of La Grande Clef, where saw process of curds and cheese making ; then descended by most pictur- esque path into lovely valley of L'Etivas, dined at small inn, where are baths. Read some of Virgil's Eclogues. After dinner, strolled down a lovely glen to Chateau d'Oex, no great distance ; had letter for pasteur dhnis- sionnaire M. Morel not at home, but saw Madame and family, and one of his boys conducted us to cottage, where he was in conclave with his elders, and Professor Chopins of Lausanne. Spoke of church matters in general, but very tired and sleepy. ''July 28. — ^Rose early, nice inn ; but at ten I was bit, and did not sleep. Superb morning, and glorious valley, joined a German from Bale, going same route with a guide — Rev. Mr. Bruchner. Commenced ascent from Col de Jaman before reaching Monterra, and just after quitting splendid narrow defile, richly wooded, glorious views. Our path took us winding among the moun- tains covered with chdletSy velvet lawns, and woods ; the hill-sides musical with the bells of cattle, brow. -ng or marching in file to the cMlets to be milked. Passed small village, AUibre ; others lunched. I pushed on and reached top of Col de Jaman by one, hailed my old John Mackintosh, 223 friends the Jura, the lake, the Savoy hills, and . fell asleep ; others came up at half-past one, and Adams and I descended rapidly by picturesque winding path, with beautiful views of lake and mountains to Vevay, where by half-past four.' He and his friend spent the Sunday at Lausanne. But Mr. Bum Murdoch being obliged, on Monday morn- ing, to return to Geneva for Scotland, they parted, and John writes in his Diary : — * Monday. — Saw my dear friend depart; very desolate — returned to hotel.' ^Tues- day morning. — Awoke in prayer for B. M.' These feel- ings he expressed in a letter written to him from Berne a few days afterwards : — * I followed your Diligence that memorable night with the eye, and afterwards with the ear, as long as I could. After that, I returned desolate to the inn. Next morning you were first in my thoughts, as though I still held your hand ; in truth, I awoke in prayer for you.' From Lausanne he wrote the following letter '^ TO THE REV. N. MACLEOD. * The wish to give you some details on Church mat- ters, has made me delay longer to answer your last most welcome letter than I should otherwise have done. . . . In truth, it would appear that God is destining Switzer- land to be the cradle again of a second and equally important reformation in the Protestant Churches. * Not only at Geneva, but also in the Canton de Vaud, may be seen the elements of an important progress. . . . Equally devoted with ourselves to the doctrines accentuated in the sixteenth century, they still appear to feel the need of revising and accommod.r ing their Confessions to the peculiar exigencies of the incteenth f I i« !- •I ': I 1 fri^;>. i I li 224 Memorials of century. "To say," says Vinet, in the project of a constitution which he drew up for the Free Church of the Canton de Vaud, " that confessions and formulailes are unalterable, is to place the work of man on an equal footing with the Bible itself, and thus to fall into the very error of Romanism." This far-seeing man, privi- leged to make those fetches into the future, for which all minds are not yet ripe, but which indicate almost certainly to what the Church is tending, was very strongly opposed to a cumbersome and detailed con- fession. He thought it should be such as each member could conscientiously subscribe ; and that thus only could it be truly the confession of a Church, including in this term both ministers and people, and doing away with that dangerous distinction between a religion for the laity and another for the clergy, which he regarded as one of the fatal legacies of Popery. How far this view is correct, will no doubt be brought under the notice of all the churches. One thing, however, is un- questionably true, — that the germ of what constitutes a Christian may be comprised within a very small com- pass, this being the positive side of confessions ; while the negative, or that which is to serve as a defence against heresies, must be of a very different character in the sixteenth and in the nineteenth centuries. In the former, Popery — in the present, infidelity — would be chiefly regarded, always excepting the unchangeableness of Pelagianism and Socinianism, which appear to be the contemporaries of every age, and to strike against the germ or positive side of the truth. ' The document of Vinet, to which I have alluded, like everything that ever came from his gifted pen, is deeply interesting, from the reasoning with which his yohn Mackintosh, 0.2$ propositions are supported. The venerable Neander — standing like a prophet between two mighty epochs, and whose afflicting blindness, while it prevents him from any more investigating the past, may cause him to look with the eye of faith upon the future — is known to have received, with eager interest, the draft of M. Vinet's plan ; but his criticism I have not learned. I cannot doubt but that from the elevated though solitary watchtower of Lausanne, the signal was caught up by the brother watchman more instructed in the history of the past, but perhaps not so favoured with those flashes of inspiration which open vistas into the night of the future. * The suggestions of Vinet have not been altogether adopted in the constitution of the Free Church of Vaud. In this light, it is interesting to compare the two docu- ments ; but a simplicity, and therefore a largeness, can- not be denied to the articles as they even now stand. . . . You see I write from Lausanne, so that I have bid farewell to dear Geneva, having quitted it with much gratitude and much regret . . . * My window here commands a glorious view of the Lake ; towards the west, the hills above Geneva fading from my view ; towards the east, a magnificent panorama of Alps closing in upon the lake, with Chillon, Clarens, and other well-known places at their base ; opposite, the mountains of Savoy. Below my windows, and on the banks of the lake, Ouchd, the little port of Lausanne, and the birthplace of the immortal Vinet; and still nearer me, in fact right under my eye, that memorable acacia walk where Gibbon completed his History ,0/ the Decline and MIL " '""' * I have met many of the pastors here, heard them ^ •! '■\ (»!;::!. ri; il i ' 1 226 Memorials of preach in private houses ; and to-day communicated with a little stealthy flock. To-morrow I leave for Berne, and God willing, hope to make the tour of Switzerland ere descending among the monuments that date ac. Amid all this beauty, I still feel that "the eye is not satisfied with seeing ;" and that the soul requires something for its immortal appetite which " eye hath not seen, neither hath entered into the heart of man to conceive.** One word amid the most glorious wonders of creation ; — I turn to the thought of the God-man with inexpressible sweetness — to Him who, being the brightness of the Father's glory and the express image of His Person, "hath by Himself purged our sins, and sat down on the right hand of the Majesty on high." ' From Lausanne he travelled to Berne via Fribourg. From Berne, he thus wrote to his friend Mr. Ker, who had just entered upon the charge of a congregation in Scotland: — 'Our prayers for you have ascended often, and yet not often enough, considering the solemnity, importance, and novelty of your positioiL May God give you to live for Him, to experience much in your own soul of the love of Christ, and that you may be able conscientiously, ably, and fervently to commend His cause to others ! And may His Holy Spirit so accompany your words and labours, that many may be introduced by your means into the kingdom of righteous- ness, peace, and love. It is a great matter to get the simple facts of the case clearly before oiu* minds, and to keep them there. We are so apt to lose sight of them amid the forms and machinery to be employed, and the conventionalities of language and every-day life. The yohn Mackintosh. 127 sight, however, of Christ, with the consideration of His woric, Y^3.sX^ present, and to come, must be the best and surest preservative against lapsing into a mere preaching and visiting machine, which, I have no doubt, is the natural tendency of even the best of ministers. May He who has called you, employ and perfect you ! So prays your ever attached friend and future brother in arms.' The rest of his journey, as far as Zurich, is thus briefly sketched in a letter to his sister, Mrs. Edward Smith : — •Zurich, August 21. * My dearest Chris., — Being the most Swiss of my sisters, I send you a stave at this stage of my travels, for the above reason, and also because our mother being now with you, a letter to you is as good as one to her. I bitterly regret not having told her to write to me here, because I should have had plenty time to receive her letter ; and I am now very far back in my knowledge of her health and movements, which is always a source of irksomeness when one is far away. My last letter to her was written from Lausanne ; thence I passed to Berne, admiring the organ and suspension-bridge of Fribourg on my way. Berne is a beautiful town, and beautifully situated on the Aar, which washes the town on three sides. Geneva is scarcely Switzerland — Lausanne rather more so ; but Berne is its capital, and the true starting- point for all its lakes and mountains. You can fancy nothing finer than the view of the Bernese Alps from some parts of the town j the Jungfrau and her brethren appearing in long array, like the ghosts of winter ; or, when the sun is shining on them, like something too bright and pure for earth. From Berne I went to Thun, 228 Memorials of which is quite a fairy little town, situated at the extremity of its lake, and contrasting the utmost softness with the stem mountains near which it lies. You sail up the lake and reach Interlaken, so called because it lies be- tween the lakes of Thun and Brientz — another fairy spot, and, at this season, the height of fashion — having superb hotels, where people delude themselves into the idea that they have exchanged the dissipations of town for the bracing life of the mountains, because they are near the mountains. Quitting Interlaken, I took up a valley of wonderful beauty to Lauterbrunnen, which is quite up among the glaciers, and the mountains that give them birth ; from Lauterbrunnen you cross the Wengern Alp — a high col which brings you round in front ot the Jungfrau and her peers, so that it appears as if you could caress her, or take any other liberty you please. Nothing can be more glorious than this view ; the near neighbour- hood of such redoubtable sky-piercers, in their awful purity and silence, is appalling ; the only sound to break tl^e stillness is that of the avalanche, which you some- times see descending, apparently indeed disproportionate to the thunder it makes, but conveying all the more an impression of its greatness, when you know that what seems but a cascade of snow is in reality composed of blocks of ice and snow, capable of subverting villages. I think of the Jungfrau as what might form a great white throne of awe and majesty for the judgment-day 1 From this point you descend upon the village of Grindelwald, in a valley of the same name, and close by two glaciers, which are also called after the valley into which they desctii, , li 43^ Memorials of ments. This fair earth His handiwork, and T, too, His creature. " He came to his own, and his own received him not!" What condescension! what forbearance! the same which He now daily exercises towards me, so vile. O that precious thought, that my vileness does not separate between me and Him ! My earthly friends, when they discover it, cease to love me, but not so He. I trust He will one day completely change this heart and nature, and make me pure, holy, humble, like Himself. * Au^ist 24. — (Lake of Wallenstadt.) — Met once more the Glarus merchant, whom I had seen at Rapperschwyll, and who seems to me to have a disposition towards re- ligion ; but to whom I had not been able to speak as I could have wished. In the steamboat, while admiring the very fine scenery, after some interesting conversation on Swiss manufactures, etc, I had an opportunity of speaking to him at large as I desired. I found that with much temporal prosperity he enjoyed precarious health, having a tendency of blood to the head. I endeavoured to show him how this might prove to him, in fact, more a blessing than an evil, if it taught him submission to the will of God; and led him, above all, to live for eternity, having made his peace with God through Jesus Christ. He was forced to confess that too much pros- perity might lead to forgetfulness of God, as with him- self and others whom he knew ; and the view I gave him of his malady, and its possible result, seemed so new to him, that he thanked me very warmly; and I would even hope that, with the blessing of God's Spirit, I may have been employed to say what may afterwards spring up to everlasting life in his soul. The following extracts from a letter to Professor yohn Mackintosh, '^S? Forbes give an account of his crossing the Alps into Italy:— TO PROFESSOR FORBES. ' COMO, Aug. 29, 1849s *My very dear Sir, — ^Your last most kind letter afforded me even an unusual degree of pleasure, and truly glad I was to hear you had enjoyed so much your trip to London, and were then so well with all your family at Melrose. * The idea of again travelling with you through the Alps would have been just too much (happiness) for me, and so little am I conscious of much intellectual progress, that I fear I should now make quite as bad a companion in that respect as I then did; only it is perhaps not so much a companionship of the head as of the heart that you would desire, and I can answer for that, however poorly it might express itself. The Alps, however, are always there, and there is little chance of the glaciers melting away before you pay them a visit. If the bare mention of some of their names will whet your appetite, I proceed to do so in giving you rapidly an account of my last three weeks of unabated happiness.' After narrating the portion of his journey which is described by him in his previous letters and Diaries, he says — ' At Reichenau I remained last Sunday, feeding on the past, and thinking, with a palpitating heart, of the im- pending passage of the Spliigen, which was to bear me into Italy, whwe my fancy had so often wandered. The spot was fitting for the view of such an epoch, at the confluence of the two Rhines, which river is itself a great fountain of electricity for the imagination, with the ro- Hitl k 238 Memorials of ! 4 mantic associations too of a past name in modem history. Accordingly on Monday I took the Spliigen road, and was greatly struck with the Via Mala : these to otlier such passes, as the Alps and the Rhine are to their hunabler constituents. I passed it in utter solitude, till near the end, when who should I recognise in the only travelRng- carriage I met but our friend Emile Gautier, returning from the Italian lakes with his young bride ! He was at St Gervais when I left Geneva, so that I could not say farewell, and his marriage was to take place in about a week. Judge of our surprise now ! He seemed very happy, and I christened it immediately the Via Bona. She too looked very nice, and had become prettier since I first saw her. I wished them both, in my heart, many blessings, and thought there might be really less interesting things in the world than a young newly-married couple. I should mention that the Oberland was crowded with such characters, but I gave the palm to the Gautiers. That night Spliigen I thought the perfection of a situa- tion, — and next day by that marvellous road, which must have been conceived by a madman, to Chiavenna. How my heart beat on the apex of the pass in tak- ing a last look of Transalpine Europe, when I began actually to descend into the Italy of the Romans — Horace, Virgil, Livy, and the Caesars. I wish I could recal it, but it is to be only once done in a life, and the electric jar can never be again charged with the whole associations of boyhood and of youth. About six feet separated two little brooks, one of which had the good sense to make for the German Ocean, the other for the Gulf of Venice. I did honour to the former by a copious libation. How much more savage this pass is to the south ; such barrenness, such fearful precipices, yohn Mackintosh. n9 and then that zig-zag up a frowning face of rock, almost inconceivable. It appeared like magic the sudden transition to Chiavenna and vineyards. Yet so it was. I was fairly in Italy ; and to-day I have even sailed the thoroughly Italian lake of Como. I see you told me to land at Bellagio. I had forgotten it, and the sultry heat (a thunder-storm impending), has a little stanched my spirit of romance, which flourished so vigorously upon the Swiss mountains. I begin to fear Italy is a place to dream of rather than to visit (in summer at least), but shall not be premature. One day especially, on so sudden a change, should not fix my judgment The ominous lines, however, occur — " But when I'm there, although 'tis fair, 'Twill be another Yarrow." However, we shall see. To-morrow I hope to revel in the glories of Lugano and Maggiore. Meanwhile I must ask you to excuse so much of personal narrative. I thought, however, that the mere names would recal old times to you, and I have no father to participate in my pleasure.' In his Diary of August 28, he says : — * On reaching the summit of the Spliigen pass, I paused and contem- plated. Yonder the hills of Transalpine Europe; southwards, Italy. I breathed a prayer for my friends ; then, turning round, commenced my descent into Italy. I felt great on the occasion, and recognised it as ao epoch in my life. Sursum corda I * 240 Memorials of CHAPTER X. Enter* Italy— Austrian surveillance — Como— The Lombards — Isola Bella — Thoughts on entering Italy — Milan — Letter to Mr. Bum Murdoch — Pavia — Placentia — Mantua — Parma — ^Apennines. The journey from the Alps to Rome occupied about two months, and a minute diary of these and subse- quent days of travel in Italy, was kept, with the design of sending or reading it to his mother. Space per- mits only of my giving a few selections from his own copious pages, and compels me, therefore, to omit many which are equal in interest to those which I now lay before the reader : — * Wednesday, August 29, 1849. — I was now in Italy \ and my first thoughts on waking turned to this fact. I praised God, who had hitherto led me in safety, and permitted me so great an enjoyment ! The morning was pre-eminently fine. By ten a.m. we were at Colico, on the banks of the Lake of Como. . . . The scenery, until Bellagio, did not strike me as different from what I had often seen before. At this point, however, the lake divides in two, one branch going to Lecco, the other to Como. We took the latter, and nothing could now surpass the Italian richness of the shores. Villas of luxurious grandeur, such as you see in pictures, read of in novels, and dream of in dreams; villages of 'John M'lckintosh. 241 southern construction with porticos, painted houses and flat roofs, vineyards crowding the hills on either side, covered barges sleeping on their shadows, or skimming the glassy surface of the water. It was enough ; my imagination was filled, and Italy was written there in enduring colours. The sultry heat, however, and some- what covered sky, prevented me from feeling all those raptures I should otherwise have done ; I was content to lay up food for after reveries. When about half-way to Como, an incident occurred which may throw some light on the fidgety tenure which the Austrians now have of Lombardy. One of their officials, a soldier, who had come on board during the passage, took it into his head to eye me very narrowly — my dress, person, and accoutrements, afid, in a language I did not know, to address me, as I thought, some questions thereupon. Thinking it was merely impertinent curiosity, I told him in French and German I did not understand him ; but those languages were to him equally unintelligible. At last the scurvy rascal rose, quitted his seat, and dis- appeared. Soon after, he returned with one of the Austrian officers, who demanded my passport of me in German, and wished to know whither I was going. A circle was formed in expectation of a scene ; but I pro- duced my passport, explained it to him, told him my country and destination, and so the matter ended. But such scrutiny as this in a steamboat, and upon a lake of pleasure, provoked my bile, especially as I was con- scious of looking openness and innocence itself. * (Landed at Como.) — About nine went out to see the effect of moonlight upon the lake and mountains. It was indeed voluptuous — I use this word advisedly — for I think that herein lies the difference between what 'ii Mi' V( m \- ii 242 Memorials of I saw to-night and what I have seen elsewhere, whether in Switzerland or Savoy : it is not that the hills are finer, either in form or magnitude, or that the sheet of water differs in any respect ; but that over all is thrown a rich, dreamy, voluptuous influence — the effect, doubt- less, of atmosphere and climate. There is something intoxicating even in the air, which predisposes you to see all things beautiful. The moon shone down with more than usual splendour, every trace of cloud having vanished from the crystal sky ; the white houses gleamed with a supernatural whiteness, and, especially in the town, were brilliantly reflected from the lake; the mountains trembled beneath the wavy light, and all spoke of Italy — the land of dreams ! Thus tranquil- lized, I returned to my room fully satisfied that Italy may still be enjoyed at least by moonlight : her nights are perhaps more beautiful than her days. And so it is in fact — her day is past ; but oh ! how beautiful even her night of souvenir and dream ! * August 30. — They (the Lombards) appear to me as yet a very interesting people — serious, cultivated, in- dustrious, gentlemanly, and, though not warlike, perhaps as fit to be happy under a government of their own as any European nation. By what singular judgment . are they condemned to be the subjects of a people infinitely less advanced in civilisation than themselves ? I know not, except it be in retribution for the ancient cruelties and tyranny of that people to whom, in many respects, they serve themselves heirs. I should fancy that under many regards they were the nearest resemblance to the Romans of the later empire of all the Italian peoples — their looks, their luxury, their refinement, their letters, I fear I must add too, their effeminacy. . , . My com- yohn Mackintosh. 243 panion was an emaciated Lombard, who had taken part in the war of independence. He was in exile with his family at Lugano, where his health had given way under the superior rigour of the climate. Now he had been for a month trying the effect of the air natale to restore him., and with some success. I took him to be a Lombard merchant, and found him to be intelligent, our medium of communication being French. He spoke with much certainty of their final emancipation from the Austrian yoke, and would not admit even such a feeble word as esperance. The present state of things, he said, could not go on, so overbearing had become the tyranny of the Austrians, with some few exceptions. Before the rebellion, they had conducted themselves with courtesy and caution, but now it was intolerable. The Lombards were not to blame for pusillanimity in the war, because first they were totally unaccustomed to arms, and, next, those who did take them up, were on the Stelvio and other passes, where they were not called into action. In the recent defence of Venice, how- ever, it was mainly Lombards who held out, the Vene- tians themselves being ready to make any sacrifices in their defence, but not to stand fire. I must say I sym- pathized with the man, as I do with the Lombards generally. ' At about a third of the way we reached the frontier of the Swiss canton of Tessin. Here our passports were examined by the Austrian authorities, and again I was subjected to annoyance. It seems my passport at Chiavenna should have been visdd by the military commandant as well as by the police. This second process I had left to the commissionnaire of the hotel, as the officer resided there, and my omnibus was soon W, i: ^Jv5i 244 Memorials of to start Tne fellow pretended to do it, but neglected. Again at Como my pass should have been vist^d, but not having been asked for it, I did not volunteer it. These circumstances combined infuriated my Austrian, and nothing would serve him but I should return to Como. I thanked him for his kind advice, so politely given, and fearing a succession of vexations was even meditating such a step ; when a Lombard gentleman in the carriage spoke privately to the authority, and one of his fellows, not he, came out to tell me I might go on and take my chance ; I did so, and breathed more freely on crossing the frontier. * Certainly the air became cooler, and everything wore a more happy smiling aspect on entering Switzerland once more. What a province of fertility and beauty I We reached the lake as the sun was already on the decline. It was evidently not so beautiful as Como, but it pleased me more. The mountains were more lofty, the lake more dark and serious. We embarked in company with several very fine-looking Lombards, companions and refugees in adversity, and their mani- festation of sympathy and brotherhood towards each other, although their ranks were apparently different, pleased me very much. Wo passed a long mole of stone, with two or three arches, under one of which the boat passes, and by means of which the Great St. Gothard road crosses the Lugano. A tall, conical hill rose to the left, on one side of which runs up a long and many-homed bay of the lake, on the other gilding its graceful shore, and beautifully thrown out against a gentle group of hills behind, appeared the town of Lugano. Its situation is very perfect, and perhaps worth the whole lake. As the setcmg sun illumined the i'S yohft Mackintosh. 245 heavens behind, and threw a parting glory over the bosky hills in front, we entered the little harbour, and disembarked. The moon was just rising over one of the western hills, and with increasing splendour shed its rays on the greatly ruffled waters : I quickly took my room in the Hotel de la Couronne, deposited my sack, and went out to enjoy what Italy alone can afford. * August 2t\. — (Maggiore.) — I left the vessel at Baveno, and visited the Isola Bella, in company with some others. The external etfect of these islands had greatly disappointed me, after all that has been said in their praise, but the visit to the chateau amply repaid me. It was all that the most fervent fancy could dream ot the natural, heightened by luxury and art I wan- dered through long corridors, opening into lofty chambers magnificently furnished, and decorated with pictures of the first masters, while the lake appeared in perspective through the open windows, blue as heaven, and glistering like a shield. A cool breeze from the south entered and pervaded the mansion, and the ripple of the water was heard without, alone break- ing the silence that reigned around. The gardens also pleased me, with their terraces, grottos, and flowers, but especially their trees of every clime, diffusing fra- grance, and conveying an idea of the meridian climate that must there prevail. The citron, the orange, the pomegranate, the sugar, the cork, were among those I chiefly remarked ; and a delicious grove of spruce firs, I think, afforded a grateful shade, and created that sigh- ing sound among the branches which speaks such soothing music to the senses. ' As we neared Maggiore, I was enchanted to find heather, and its fragrance, combined with the very High- !l 1 m. 1 1 I'll 246 Memorials of land character of the scenery, filled me with inexpres- sible emotions. The frst view of the lake before descending confirmed my impression that it was Loch Lomond. * Sept. I. — The Diligence started for Milan at one. By this time the sky had cleared. I was on the roof, upon a comfortable seat, without any covering ; so that the view was open on every side. The fragrance of trees and of heather for a considerable way filled the air, still more fragrant after the rain ; the blue retiring hills behind, and the vast plains flat below, richly wooded and cultivated, reminded me I was in Lombardy and the valley of the Po. I cannot tell what sensations I felt, or what thoughts passed through my mind, as we were bame along towards Milan, a cool breeze meeting us from the south, and a light-blue Italian sky overhead. If there be meaning in the expression, I seemed to see more deeply into the mystery of the hfe of man and of the world, when I reflected in such a country on the history of the past, and strove to look out upon the future ; but mystery it still remained until revelation came in and solved the difliculty, the element of faitli being added. The story of those ages that have gone down to oblivion, and which yet is not oblivion — the development of the world and the change of power — the reason of this slow development, and why man should oppress man, and often undo ali the fair work of time — the riddle of existence, destiny, and the slow working out of any consummation whatever — all the.se, and a thousand such questions, flitted over ray spirit, and seemed to acquire a voice still more potent upon the battle field of two, if not of many civilisations. And those old Romans still live, and those Gauls cut n 1 yohn Mackintosh. 247 down by thousands, and those barbarians who after- wards avenged their ancestors, and all who followed them in the Middle Ages. It is not so much that here there have been more generations, more havoc, or perhaps more changes, than elsewhere ; but that their history is written in such unfading colours, and was so critical for the human race, that it appears as though it had been selected to be one of the gauging points of human life and human history, where that lesson might be read, that " one generation cometh after another," and that " as a flower of the field, so man flourisheth." The thought, however, came out in all the more impressive lustre, that " the word of the Lord endureth for ever." ' Some autumn leaves already appearing on the trees, affected me almost to the verge of weeping, so elo(iuently did they speak the tale of Italy. O Thou who hast shown to me such unmerited mercy, who hast accom- panied me hitherto as I cannot doubt, withdraw not from me Thy presence, Thy protection, and Thy love, now when I am in the midst of strangers, and wholly cast on Thee ! " I said, I will confess my transgression unto tiie Lord, and Thou forgavest the iniquity of my sin." Yes, Thy hand is still about me, and my con- fidence is in Thee ! Lead me, O Lord, to the praise of the glory of Thy grace ! * All youthful as it seems in climate and vegetation ; this very climate, that once braced to deeds of highest virtue, now breeds eftVminacy, disease, and death, and with Italy itself it is now more than autunm — our times have reached the autumn of the world. 'The full-orbed moon arose like the eye of heaven looking in sorrow on the earth as we approached the splendid arch of peace by which you enter Milan from ?;h', If \\ i: P M : I 1 s J i* 248 Memorials of the north. So level is the plain on which the city is built, that you see but little of it at once. Only you pass through a gate beside the arch, and come upon a vast esplanade, at the farther side of which stands the extensive castle or barracks, and over one wing of this you see houses and house-tops surmounted by the white tower of the cathedral. Our passports being taken, and temporary ones given in their place, we drove round the esplanade, and entered the narrow but clean and stately streets of my first Italian city. I have often been struck by the resemblance of Lombard gentlemen to our better class of well-dressed, well-appointed Englishmen, and now the equipages we ii?*»t were more English than any- thing of the kind I have seen upon the Continent. * I took a turn in the tall silent streets, and felt that here too prevailed that deep dejection which I had already remarked ait Como. We read of revolutions, of fighting, of war, but to appreciate the effects of these the country must be visited ; it is then we perceive how they chastise and scourge a country, and that we learn to value our own most blessed peace. May God restore the Lombards to liberty, prosperity, and happiness, if it be His all-wise but inscrutable will. * Sunday J Sept. 2. — (Milan Cathedral.) — The exterior of the structure arrested me, and after a rapid survey 1 entered by Ihe western door ; the interior was very very fine. The people who paced the nave served to illustrate its vast proportions, such pigmies did they seem. The effect was very imposing ; by degrees I allowed myself to advance — gazing above, around, and forwards ; and of a truth, I felt that there could be religion expressed in a building. It is one of the few " temples made with hands" that seem to me at all adequate to the concep- K < yohn Mackintosh, 249 tion — the dim light, the gigantic pillars, the heavenward bearing of all — shall I say the mystery and indefiniteness of the edifice ? — all pointed to that faith which is sub- lime yet lowly, revealed yet hidden. I was solemnized, tranquillized, awed, encouraged. . . . The structure is vast, and of solid marble ; a quarry having been be- queathed for the purpose by one of its founders. Al- though so massive, it rises very clean from the ground, and has an air of particular lightness and elegance beyond all I have ever seen : no doubt this is greatly owing to its vast number of tall sky-pointing minarets, from one extremity of the roof to the other, while the tower is likewise girdled and surmounted by them. Each of these is surmounted by a full-length figure, angel or saint ; and the effect of this in white marble, seen against a clear light-blue sky, is altogether inde- scribable. There are also what I, in my ignorance of architectural terms, would call festoons of marble sculp- ture and tracery, at regular intervals athwart the roof and rising above it, through which the bright sky is also visible, so that nothing is wanting to give airiness to the architecture. From its foundation till now, it has never been without scaffolding in some quarter or other, having been brought thus gradually to its present state, which is not even yet that of completion. Is not this fact, which applies to so many cathedrals, significant of the religion itself, which, so far from having yet completed its part in the world and being now effete, has not yet, I verily believe, reached the climax of its wonderful and awful destinies ? . . . A considerable audience crowded the eastern portion of the nave, listening to a preacher, who seemed eloquent Rich and poor were met together, but all nicely clad. In fact the congregation was very \% I 250 Memorials of picturesque. The Austrian officer with his showy regi- mentals, the well-dressed, handsome Lombard, the peasantess with her head-dress, and sometimes fine countenance, were all apparently engaged in devotion. Nor were there wanting black eyes among the more aristocratic part of the assembly, which from beneath arched eye-brows upon a pale handsome countenance met your glance as it chanced to fall upon them, and did not shrink with the bashfulness to which in England we are accustomed. The organ which was placed above the choir was played with much sweetness, and hallowed the gloom, and elevated the soul by its expressive music. I waited till all was over, then took another look at the exterior of the cathedral, and returned home. Here I read, and endeavoured to elevate my soul in humble worship.' From Milan he thus wrote Mr. A. Bum Murdoch : — 'Milan, Sept. 3. •. . . By this time, indeed long ere this, y vill have been speaking your mother-tongue without compunction, enjoying the dear delights of home in the happiest country on the face of the earth. In some respects I could envy you, but my destiny carries me yet southwards, and pro- longs my absence from all my heart loves. I trust to hear in your next of still further amendment in your moil'or's health, of your happy meeting with them all, ai. )f your own doings smce ytjur arrival. Forme you will be happy to hear that I have had very very great enjoyment, so much so that I am humbled as well as overpowered with gmtitude, when 1 think of my very great unworthiness. The Lord has not forsaken me, I have reason to believe, but has been near me and about me. . . . O that you were with me, my dear Christian friend 1 There are, of course, hours of loneliness, when John Mackintosh, 251 even the neighbourhood of one we love is agreeable and cheering ; however, God has otherwise ordered — I hope and believe for the best. . . . May God bless you and keep you, and direct all your future ways ! How good He is, and condescending to our littleness and infir- mities ! I am persuaded we cannot too much treat Him as a friend ; and the more we do so, the greater our reverence as well as our intimacy. Were it not for this faith, the world would be a wilderness in spite of the kind hearts it contains. I think of past times, last winter, with great pleasure, and I trust we may be allowed to recall them some day when the harness is on our back, and we are fighting, like good soldiers of Jesus Christ, the battle which is fought for peace and love. — Yours,' etc. * Sept. 4. — (Milan ; Church of Santa Maria — Picture of Last Supper.) — The outline and form of the figures is still as Leonardo drew them. Our Saviour is the most perfect remains ; and immediately the attention is con- centrated on Him as it ought to be : such divinity, such gentleness, such majesty of sorrow ! not in anger has He said it, but in regret. The idea of placing this figure in front of a window, opening out on Palestine and the unsullied sky, assists to throw out the figure in relief, and forms a fine setting, so to speak, for that calm in- eff"able form. Next Judas is brought into notice, and while neither regards the other, he may yet be said to confront the Saviour, so palpably has he taken the charge* as personal. The contrast between the counte- nances is matchless : Judas is evidently stunned, be- wildered by the discovery and exposure of his fearful guilt of heart ; yet there is none of that assassin-look of knavery, so commonplace, whi^h you see in many . r W/ ^f '/ M Hiotographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET "^ WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 # \ :\ iV \ ^9) V ^> V^ 6^ 'if:^^^ %' ^v- ■^ i It M l* ii: 256 Memorials of suppose that cottage life was not unknown among those extensive plains. Soon, however, the moon arose in her wonted splendour, and the landscape was reveled in fictitious beauty. After talking to my fellow-travellers to nearly the same effect as to my student at the inn, I fell into a reverie, which it would be vain to attempt to commit to paper. Italy and Scotland — where I had dreamed of Italy — were mysteriously blended. My spirit was sometimes in one, sometimes in the other. One of these flashes of surprise came across me that I was really here ; and yet with all its romance, and the de- licious softness of the night air I was inhaUng, there seemed no discrepancy in thinking of old Scotland as equally romantic, if not even more so than where I now was. Those scenes of beauty that I know — that society of which I have tasted, with Italian song, river-sides, starry nights, shady walks, gardens and flowers, formed a nosegay to the soul, as sweet as any I was now enjoy- ing. Dangerous both, if the soul rise not to God, and experience its chief, attempered, and all-pervading satis- faction in Him. This mine has not always done, but I now sought to do it. *^ Sept. 7. — (Lodi.) — He (a young Austrian officer) re- quested we should sleep together; and as it was but for a few hours, I consented. My practice of kneeling before going to rest surprised him ; but he admitted it was good, and I put the duty of it afterwards to him in as strong a position as I could. ^ Sept. 8.-^(0n the road near Piacenza.) — I started from Lodi at five a.m. on foot ; passed the Austrian fron- tier about eight. Soon after a turn in the road brought me in presence of a scene which I would find it diffi- cult to convey by words. Immediately before me the *John Mackintosh, ^57 broad full-shining Po, one of the four or five monarchs of European rivers, which the fancy is prepared to wel- come with a thrill of emotion. On its southern bank, a little to the eastward of where I was standing, Piacenza, most picturesquely situated, with an unusual abundance of minaret, dome, and tower for a Lombard city ; the dark stone spire of the Cathedral, in particular, gave character to the pictorial effect of the town. Lastly, behind the town, and skirting the whole southern horizon from east to west, the beautiful outline of the Apennines, ridge over ridge, fold within fold, here a peak, there a dome, with soft but variegated lights on their various parts, as you see on many of the bonny hills of Scotland. This association, their intrinsic beauty, together with the surprise of coming upon mountains after the dreary plains of Lombardy, filled me with delight, I may say intoxicated me. I lingered long and drank the spectacle ; the desolate beauty of Placentia, which seemed as if it had lost its way upon those forlorn banks ; the river itself, fringed with willows and sand, rolling on in its dreary channel — a waste though fertilizing all around — smote my soul with one of those notes of melancholy which are profound but not unpleasing. I followed its "wild and willowy shore" for a considerable way beyond Placentia, until I reached the appropriately forlorn and rickety bridge of boats by which the highroad crosses it. Nothing, in truth, could be more in keeping or more significant of the departed grandeur of Placentia. With such emotions I entered the town, and found my way to the hotel. ^Sunday, Sept. 9. — To-day I had the rampart with its promenade entirely to myself I tried to retrace, realize, arwd re-people the history of Placentia. Visions 1.: i • 1; '? i I ( i ;i^ i j \ '' 1 1 •'«■' t ■ 1 j ■i 1 I ( ) M i 258 Memorials of of Roman greatness rose before my eyes, her haughty senators, dames, patricians ; her stem, stately soldiers j her worship, in so far as I could make it out \ and while I regretted that in former days I had learned those details so much by rote as to have now forgotten much which I would wish to have recalled, I was still able to make the picture complete enough to please myself. How singular the contrast between their civilisation on the one hand, and their religious darkness on the other ! while those two things to our minds must ever go together. It is Hke a dark cloud tinged by the moon shining behind, which is at once beautiful and the re- verse. I cannot help thinking that, for character and mode of life, the transition between later Rome and Italy of the middle ages was not so great or so sudden as we sometimes imagine. Those lovers of luxury, those patrons of art, those monsters of tyranny and cruelty, might belong to one or other epoch ; the later, whom we have accurately sketched to the life, were the lineal inheritors of the names and nature of the former. Thus then I passed to Placentia of the middle ages, and endeavoured to collect all I had gathered in history or romance of their glory, their splendour, and their shame. Finally, I passed on to more recent times ; the universal revolutions effected by Napoleon, the long peace that followed, and the poets who have visited and sung these lands from my own and other countries. I know not which of all these phases seemed endowed to my mind with the richest halo. All are equally blended with my youthful dreams in that season when the cold reason is allowed to slumber, and Imagination is lord of the ascendant. *I entered the Cathedral towards dusk. There is ■ii'' yohn Mackintosh, 259 nothing in it particularly to arrest the attention or elevate the thoughts; but mine were for the moment independent of outward aids, and sitting down with my book of Psalms in hand, I turned my soul towards H'oi, the events of whose marvellous life, from the cradie to the tomb, were portrayed around me. I cannot say that in general those pictures or frescoes, however good, awake devotion in my mind. This may be the defect of habit, or that the aesthetic predominates in regarding them; or that, among so many, the soul has not time for an operation so absorbing and profound as that of devotion. Be this as it may, excepting by the Supper of a Leonardo, or the Crucifixion of a Guido — for which, besides their being masterpieces, you give yourself time and scope for religious musings — I have rarely felt myself sanctified in Italian churches. To- night, however, all was dim excepting to the spiritual eye ; and the marvellous love and work of Him who Himself purged our sins, and wrought out a righteous- ness for His people, shone out with peculiar lustre. No wonder that, when the tide of genius first flowed in its various channels since the conversion of the world to Christianity, this should be the all-absorbing topic of its efforts, whether on canvas or in verse. — My Saviour, I am Thine, and I desire to appropriate the prayer, " One thing have I desired of the Lord, that will I seek after ; that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the Lord, and to in- quire in His temple." Under many aspects, there is much to be said in favour of these solemn cathedrals — calm retreats for the thirsty soul amid the bustle of the world, and using them as Oratoires or places of medita- tion. I have often of late felt their power, and been li '^u- 1 ■ % f> .1 ! i . i ,! ; !'J '• 1 ■ 4 1 J a ■ -' -i Milk J i| 4 'if 260 Memorials of greatly indebted to them. O that error could be kept apart from good, so that good might not have to be sacrificed to error ! * Sept 10. — (Cremona.) — ^A short walk over the com- mon brought us to Cremona, which we entered by the Milan gate. Its appearance from the river, with the exception of its tall tower, is not imposing, owing to the flatness of the country in which it stands. Within, however, was an air of industry, affluence, and pros- perity. I first visited the Cathedral, whose tall tower, 396 feet high, is the wonder of Lombardy, giving occasion to the monkish rhyme — " Unus Petrus est in Rom^ Una turns in Cremon^" The marble pillars in front rise here, as elsewhere, out of lions or griffins, a quaint idea. The interior is not striking, although containing some fine frescoes, and indeed covered almost to excess with painting. * Leaving the Cathedral, I made the tour of the town, visiting its gates, its ramparts, and several other churches. From the most eastern boulevard I had a fine view of the distant mountains above Brescia, on the lake of Garda, and westward towards Como. In spite of its fiddles, it has nothing very attractive to offer. ^ Sept 12. — (Mantua.) — By about five the Diligence had arrived, and was again under way, I in the in- terior. It was a beautifully built carriage, combining ease of motion and great comfort, fitted up in every respect like one of our railway carriages ; seats abreast, with partitions. As day dawned, I took cognizance of my company; two young Lombards, and a lady with pale marble features, arched brows, young and pretty. ^)*'.i John Mackintosh. 261 I perceived that she was very animated with my com- panions in Italian, and by degrees I took courage to speak to her in French, which she knew. Italian politics her favourite topic. In fact, she was a Vene- tian, and was now going to join her family, the siege being over. Her aspirations for freedom were abun- dant, and her sneers at those prmcipes d'equilibre pre- valent in the courts of Europe, under cover of which were perpetrated de trh-tnauvaises choses. Lord Pal- merston and the English wished them well, but had not courage to break with Austria. As for the French Government, she could not make it out ; it was a monarchico-imperial republic — she did not know what However, she said, they cannot make us altogether slaves. We Italians have a rich imagination (pointing to her forehead) ; the heart, too, is free, and while that is the case, we still have something. I was greatly amused with these and similar remarks, given with an eloquence by the fair Venetian, worthy of Corinne. The others appeared to derive a still more copious delight in Italian, and I could not but envy them. Indeed, and alas ! I regret my ignorance of the language at every step. Without it, as Bacon says, you really go to school and not to travel. ... *I turned my steps northward, and, passing the Piazza Virgiliana — a grove of trees overhanging the Mincio, and commanding from the northern rampart a fine view of the hills of Brescia, and the Lake of Garda — I reached the Verona Gate and the Bridge of the Mills. From this point upon the Mincio, I en- joyed a fine sweep of its smooth-flowing waters, blue and fresh, gently rippled by the breath of evening, and reflecting on their bosom the glowing western heavens ; 1 ('■ •■ \. , i t 1 1 1 ;;: ■ i ' ■ 1 1 f I 202 Memorials of wild lovely reeds and willows fringed its banks in vast numbers ; and as I gazed towards the hills of the north- ern and southern horizon, then at sunset, then at the classic Mincio, I could not but feel that Virgil had had every advantage which a poet need have, in regard to the scenes with which his youth was conversant. The thought that he had actually gazed upon those waters, and gathered inspiration and expansion of soul from contemplating those far-off mountains, was thrilling to my spirit, and more than rewarded me for ray pilgrimage to Mantua. Satisfied that "the boy is father of the man," and that the impressions of youth affect the whole after tone and character of the mind, I was anxious to see the moulders of the vis Virgilii; and now that I have seen them, I think that I can better comprehend that glorious spirit. What ideas of life, of solitude, of melancholy, must he have learned from the lonely wan- dering Mincio ; what yearnings, what desires from the bounding mountains I To the north, an unknown mysterious world, serving for eternity ; to the south, the hills that separated him from Rome — ^the earthly heaven and idol of every Roman. I confess that in the tame plains of Lombardy I had yet seen, I could not fancy a Virgil being reared, but Mantua will do — nay, Shaks- pere upon Avon, with the Severn for his muse, was not better off. * After a long and satisfactory draught of thought, I crossed the curious bridge over the Mincio, where twelve successive mills, turned by the stream, are de- dicated and named after the twelve apostles, statues ol whom surmount their doors. Recrossing the bridge, I exactly traversed the town until I reached the Porta Ceresa on its southern side, and by this gate I P if ^.vU ^ohn Mackintosh. 263 emerged, towards evening, to visit the village of Andes, or as it is now called Pictola, where Donatus on the one hand, and tradition, which identifies Andes and the modem village on the other, assign the birth- place of Virgil. The road followed a devious course among the marshes or lakes, by which the circumference of the town is flooded, and this for about a mile. Bar- rier after barrier is passed, rampart after rampart most skilfully adjusted, so that I could well believe the city impregnable, as it is. The setting sun threw its light upon the clear fresh water of the brooks, and the pic- turesque trees and willows with which they abound were wonderfully reflected on its glassy mirror. Could Virgil have seen this, I thought, what a multitude of images it would have furnished him. At last I reached the village of Ceresa, where the Parma and Modena roads branch off". I was directed to follow the latter, which I did for a considerable way, and then took to the left by an un- frequented road towards Mantua, according to my in- structions. It was now, however, half-past six. The sun had set ; night was drawing on, and soon it would be quite dark without a moon. My enthusiasm for the birthplace of Virgil, and my fear of being benighted among those vast marshes, underwent a fearful struggle ; as it was, I had long transgressed my limits of time, having been warned in lea^ang that this gate was shut at seven, and it was now half-past six, with about a league between me and it. Seeing no village as I advanced, I resolved to turn, and retraced my steps with all speed, even to running. At length I gained the high road, and neared the town, but the hour was past, and the peasants warned me it was in vain to try. A phaeton passed me at this moment, and in despair J ! . I ■ < !■' I i* ii! I i 'TiM 11 k i- *'i\\ I •I ?! I-! 1 il 264 Memorials of sought admittance. The gentleman most courteously complied; being a native of Mantua, and coming in state, the gate was opened to him ; and full of gratitude to him and the above, I was deposited near my hotel. * I cannot but feel that the name of England is not now upon the Continent what it was very recently. Her foreign policy of the last eighteen months seems to have sunk her in the opinion of all parties alike, and I am much mistaken if Englishmen, on returning to the Con- tinent, after this present cessation, do not find themselves in a less proud position than formerly. There has been a want of openness, as well as of generosity and manli- ness, which has made a deep impression. How sad, when her influence stood on such a pinnacle, and from her domestic peace and example might have been so wholesomely employed. Russia, on the other hand, has greatly risen in the scale, and it is quite extraordinary the reverence or awe with which her name is every- where pronounced. An undeveloped power on which the future of Europe depends, such appears to be her posture in the minds of men. I know not but it would take another Waterloo to restore Great Bri- tain, and that Russia and she through their respective principles must one day come to loggerheads I cannot doubt. * Sept. 13. — (Parma.) — My heart lingered at Mantua, and never was lover torn from lover with more regret The coolness diffused around by the extensive fresh-water lakes was regaling. The town itself stately, old-fashioned, and as it were consecrated to the memory of one of the triumvirate of matchless poets. I should like to have again visited the very site of Virgil's birth, and, his Georgics and Bucolics in hand, to have repeopled their John Mackintosh* 265 pastures and corn-fields with his shepherds and husband- men ; comparing scenery with description, and meditat- ing on the time when the very swains and their sweet- hearts participated in the dignity of the masters of the world. The willow groves and slimy reeds are still the same — marshes diffuse coolness and prevent contagion — apples, pears, grapes, and chestnuts are still the fruits with which one shepherd might regale anotlier; but the spirit of liberty is gone — the Italians are the conquered, not the conquerors; and in another sense from what Virgil meant, it might be exclaimed — **En, quo discordia cives Produxit miseros ! " Mantua shall linger in my memory while I live, and it is perhaps the first place in Italy which I have seen as yet that I should wish to visit again before I die. * I met a Venetian lady and her little boy. She had been there during all the horrors of the siege, when they were reduced to eat bread of the coarsest description, and provisions of any kind sold at a ruinous expense. She said they would have held out still longer against the Austrians, but the ravages of cholera appalled them into submission. She had some coins and paper money of the young republic, with one of which — a fifteen cent piece, she presented me. I felt much interested in her from her countenance of beauty, and expression of deep- seated melancholy; and the kindly feeling seemed mutual, for she requested me to give her my memoran- dum-book, in which she inserted her name and address at Venice, inviting me, when there, to go and see her and her family. It was somewhat novel to me, how- ever, to see her deliberately smoke two cigars — a lady, 11 '* • I «i 266 Memorials of too, very nicely dressed, and with all the softness and delicacy of a lady. ... * Another character, in truth, both English, or rather Irish, and Italian — was a Count Magauley (Macaulay) Perati — his father an Irishman, his mother Italian, he himself married also to a Venetian. It seems his family had long ago been expatriated from Ireland, and their estates confiscated. They had come to Parma, where his father had been minister to the Duke, and he him- self chamberlain to the Duchess ; he had served for a good many years in the Austrian service, and was now a half-pay captain of cavalry. Although he now knew Italian better than English, not having been home for twenty-six years, I tound him a true Irishman for cour- tesy and kindness. We repaired together to a cafSy where I was served with excellent coffee in a tumbler, and butter brought in fresh from market upon a vine- leaf. By and by our carriage started, and, passing some interesting little towns through a fine dry open country abounding with beautiful vines, we reached at last the banks of the Po, at Casalmaggiore. A charming cooi breeze played about us on the way ; and altogether the climate, as well as the country, appeared to have undergone a most agreeable change* How I welcomed the sight of autumn upon the leaves, as a symptom that the sun had now spent its force, and also as the prelude to that universal garb of decay which I cannot but think the most appropriate for Italy. The breeze sighed through the willow groves, as Virgil has so often melo- diously described it, and the vines no longer stuck up- right in whole fields, as in France and Switzerland, and gracefully wedded to the manly elms between which they fonn the most beautiful festoons and tresses ; the jet black yohn Mackintosh. 267 clusters hanging lusciously among the leaves wherever the c^ night happen to turn. The bulk of the field is thus devoted to corn or other produce, while the vines are there as it were unbidden. * Nothing could exceed the beauty of the afternoon and evening. The line of the Apennines appeared stretched out before us. I had not seen so joyous, so bright a glow on the face of the country since leaving Switzerland. There was much to remind me indeed of merry England — tasteful clean cottages and farm stead- ings, cows grazing in herds, and now and then a milk- maid sitting beneath, and drawing their distended udders ; peasants returning from the vintage — everywhere appa- rently happiness and peace. My companion could give me much information on all matters, political and agri- cultural. Although an Irishman and an Italian, he greatly condemned the Revolution, as brought about by demag-" jues who would have proved more grinding and selfish tyrants than any foreign power. Before all was prosperity, now all was the reverse. Society was broken up, beggary induced where affluence had once reigned, and the breach between governor and governed irre- parably widened. The tenants of Parma, as well as generally in Lombardy, obtain a nine years' lease, with a break to either party at the end of each three years. In Parma, the landlord advances capital on security. The Dukes and Duchesses have shown themselves munificent benefactors ; but the people about them are largely composed of knaves, so that works under- taken for the public good have in most cases been miserably executed, and their funds diverted into pri- vate channels. Alas for Italy ! this want of honesty and public faith, which was the harbinger of her downfall, iTPi ; <• 'A \\ ■Mil 1 '* t* n I a68 Memorials of i 1;! is still one of the most certain signs of her inability to rise again. Punka fides must now be turned to their opponents. * Sept. 14. — I repaired to the Famese Palace, and there saw its very interesting little collection of paintings, especially Corregio's. Several of these — the Madonna and Child, with St. Jerome, an angel, and the Magda- lene kissing the feet of the child ; also the Taking Down from the Cross — are justly celebrated. The first is really perfect in design and colouring. Although so many centuries old, and having been one of the first pictures which the French removed to Paris, it is still bright and fresh as when it issued from Corregio's hand. I admire him always for his perfect command of colour- ing, his knowledge of harmony, and the secret of dura- bility; but often, as in the second picture I have mentioned, he fails greatly in the conception ot charac- ters. There are also some Caraccis, Titians, Guercinos, and Francias of great beauty; one a Transfiguration ascribed to Raphael, besides several of the Dutch school. * Sunday ^ Sept. 16. — Spent the forenoon in meditation and prayer, dwelling on the mystery of Him who, though rich, for our sakes became poor, and gave Himself a ransom for us ; who now liveth for evermore the friend and shepherd of His people I ^ Sept. 17. — (Bologna.) ... I repaired to the library opposite the vast church of San Petronio, and where was the ancient University of Bologna. It is a splendid sight. You enter a quad, of two stories high, where the walls are literally covered with the monuments of the great men who have taught or been taught there. The little chapel opens from the lower gallery ; it is richly yohn Mackintosh^ 269 frescoed, and two paintings in particular, a death-bed and a veiled nun, are pre-eminently remarkable — the white transparent veil of the nun is superb. On the upper story is the splendid library containing more than 130,000 volumes, in a long suite of apartments, roomily and well arranged, whose walls are likewise thickly covered with the arms, names, and countries of the alumni of this once famous university — English, German, French, and all European nations are there represented. '^ Sept. 18. — (On foot across the Apennines.) — The summit of the pass was wild enough — a high wind blew ; wherever the eye might turn appeared brown mountain- tops and moorlands, not unlike some of our grouse country in Scotland ; but — shall I say it — inferior to it, vastly and in every respect. Only the association of the Apennines turned the scale, and furnished to the soul whatever might be lacking to the eye. I paced on, elevated by this grand idea. ' Monte Carelli was the first station on the southern side of the pass, but here I did not pause. The road descended rapidly until I had fairly left behind the great central ridge or backbone of the mountains, and could look back on its wavy outline stretching west and south, for this passage is just in the comer where the Appenines make a bend from running eastward to take a southerly direction. Vines soon re-appeared, olives too, I understand, walnuts, and every symptom of increasing fertility. At last towards dusk I reached Caffagiolo, with its princely castle built by one of the Medici, and of course the scene of horror and of blood, for here in truth, through jealousy he murdered his wife, the beautiful Eleanor of Toledo. At length the i s ■ ' 4 •»- ' i ''!'■ -.1^^ \ 1 1 i t i ; 1 1 I I !*■ . ■■-. 1 ' ffti- '\ I 27% Memorials of vivid retrospect of the past, and see deeply into the life of things, realizing our position as living among the living. How insensible are we in general to the life around us, which thus flashes at times upon the notice of the spirit like the aerial host to the Jewish prophet. ^ Sept. 28. — (Fiesole.) — At two I joined Meyer, the day being promising, and we set off for Fiesole. We had intended leaving by the Pinti gate, and so visiting the Protestant cemetery, which is without it, and said to be interesting and beautiful. A mistake, however, in our course brought us to the San Gallo, and from it we took the road for Fiesole. The sun now shone out most glo- riously, and the blue sky rapidly appeared. The views of the hill and the adjacent heights were quite bewitching as we advanced. On reaching a Dominican convent we began to ascend, and now the views of the valley behind Florence, with the Arno and its environs, looked so lovely that it was impossible to proceed. I had long since discovered that the pale green leaf, of which I complained on my first sight of the cjuntry, and which I set down as the willow, was no other than the olive, and this thought reconciled me to their appearance. We passed the Villa Mozzi, the residence of Lorenzo di Medici, and in former times the retreat of Catiline the conspirator. The prospect from its neighbourhood so eloquently, as well as faithfully described by Hallam, is indeed sumptuous in the extreme, embracing the Valdarno, Florence with its domes and towers, the sur- rounding heights crowned with villas and convents, the Arno stretching in a long line towards the mountains, and these far off and near presenting their varied outline to the sky. After my first disappointment, I have now got reconciled to the situation of Florence, and admire it I'ii^ yohn Mackintosh, 279 more and more. The most interesting point of view from Ficsole is just behind the Cathedral, where we were shown the scanty remains of an amphitheatre, with five caves that once opened into it, and which v/e now entered by a passage cut from one to the other. They were evidently employed as dens for the wild animals, and a hole in the roof of each served to convey them their food. We passed from one to the other, sometimes crawling on all-fours, and familiarizing ourselves with the thought that here wild beasts actually fed in the great but cruel days of old. A very remarkable portion of the ancient Etruscan wall still remains, of Cyclopean architecture, that is, composed of vast blocks of rock, in this case cut so as to present a regular and even outline. No words can describe the interest of those existing memorials of a state of things prior to the aggrandizement, perhaps, to the foundation of Rome. ' * Sept. 29. — I again visited Galileo's Tower, accor»- panied by Meyer. We carried some grapes and figs to the top, and there quietly awaited the approaching sun- set. It was exquisite, and still more so the round full silver moon, which brightened the heavens as evening drew on, and made me think that Milton must have beheld it in such very circumstances to give him after- wards the idea of employing it for his simile — " Hung o'er his shoulders like the moon, whose orb I'hro' optic glass the Tuscan artist views At evening from the top of Fiesole, Or in Valdarno, to descry new lands, Rivers, or mountains in her spotty globe." * The Arno, no longer yellow from such a distance, shone brightly among its enclosing verdure, and every palace, villa, and convent was illumined throughout the I i I n r^ \* 1 ■ : I ■ 1 i I 1 ' iv 280 Memorials of whole of that much-peopled valley. After satiating our souls with this bliss, we descended by Porta San Miniata, and resisting the seduction of moonlight on the towers and cupolas of Florence, I retired to my room, and wrote my mother. * Sunday^ Sept. 30. — Grateful the repose of Sabbath ! No son of toil ever welcomed more its immunity from care. After the incessant sight-seeing of the past week, leaving so little time for the closet, I hailed this day even from afar, as the Psalmist does in some of his aspirations. From the time I rose, my thoughts were turned inwards and heavenwards, and strove after that union and communion with God in Christ, which is the health and happiness of His people. Alas ! it is not easy to attain to this, when the mind has been for a time dissipated ; yet sweet and refreshing was the meditation I had while it was yet morning with nature and with me. About eight I heard the swell of magnificent music in the Church of Santo Spirito oppo- site my window; and going out soon afterwards, I found an Austrian regimeAt ranged in double file the whole length of either aisle, in one of the largest churches of Florence. The men wore their caps and shouldered their bayonets, but at the ringing ot a bell during mass, suddenly every head was uncovered, and every knee bent on the pavement of the church. A numerous con- gregation filled the nave, and did likewise. Towards the conclusion of the service, as in the middle, the fine military band, stationed near the choir, chimed in with pealing music, which sounded and resounded through the lengthened aisles like the symphonies of heaven. The anthem was familial to me, and nothing could be grander than the general effect After service at nine, II yohn Mackintosh, 281 the men were marched out — their orders being shouted through the church — the band struck up, and they filed off to their respective quarters. Military worship more imposing, and, if possible, more unintelligent than that of ordinary Catholics. * To the English service : sweet church, and the sound of those lovely prayers and petitions read in a clear, im- pressive English voice, affected me powerfully. " How amiable are Thy tabernacles, O Lord of hosts ! " . . . Groping after a new heart and a change of nature ; but feeling, alas ! sadly, my coldness and unworthiness, my inability to help myself, and my deep need of the Holy Spirit's teaching. My present mode of life, and the re- laxing climate of these few days, is not favourable to religious life ; but O Thou, whose I am and whom I serve, interpose, as Thou hast so often done, and recall me to thy feet, and deep devotion ! Hear, Lord, hear, for I am vile ; but Thy goodness and condescension are infinite ! * Oct. I. — (Vallombrosa, with Mr. Meyer.) — On cross- ing the stream, a noble forest of walnuts and other trees appeared before us, extending upwards a considerable way, and completely covering one side of the glen. This we entered, and by a paved zig-zag road gradually wound up the hill. Heather, moss, and broom were plentiful on either side, and ripe brambles, the first I have eaten out of Scotland and the north of England. As we ascended the rich green of the walnut was changed for solemn groves of pine, through which the wind sighed in familiar accents, filling my soul with the memory of the past At length, at the end of a longish avenue, the Convent came in sight — a long white building, with a low wall in front, and sur- rounded by a tower. Higher up, on a very abrupt rock 1 ■ ''1 i 1; «r m t 1 ii- : ;i i i ■ 1 ■ j 282 Memorttils of r to th** left of the convent, gleamed the smaller tenement of Paradasnio ; while behind and around, in a semi- circle, rose the summit of the mountain clothed with black firs, as well as oaks and beeches, on which autumn had already stamped the tale of the declining year. . . . We amused ourselves in conversing upon Napoleon and his wars, until sleep reminded us of bed about nine o'clock. We joined in worship, and then retired to our respective rooms leading off the great corridor ; mine was most comfortable. I threw open the casement, and enjoyed a long time the cool breeze that gently agitated the pines, the mountain odours, the noise of tumbling water that broke or enhanced the surrounding silence. The little world of this upland solitude had gone to rest. Some friar, perhaps, still continued his devotions in seclusion ] but spiritual beings seemed to me to people the air in a sanctuary so charming, where all the fresh- ness of spring and Scotland was islanded ai "vid the sultry vales of Italy. * Tuesday, Oct. 2. — ^A delicious bed, and repose most balmy. On awaking, the profound silence struck me, as it has sometimes done at Geddes on first coming there after the noise of town. Looking from my win- dow, the grey mists of dawn, the sombre hill, and drip- ping grass and pines, reminded me powerfully of many a morning in the Highlands of the hallowed country. I dressed rapidly ; but found, on trying to get out, that we were prisoners at discretion — the great convent door being closed upon us. We had mentioned seven as the hour of breakfast, and the idea probably never entered our attendant's head, that we might wish to taste the mountain-air beforehand. With time, noise, and patience, however, we at last succeeded in obtaining our 'I" ;| t -. yohn Mackintosh. 283 freedom ; and oh ! how sweet that breath of morning, scented with the fir, the moss, the wet rocks and soil, where a tiny brook came tumbling from the mountains. Nothing more regaling has entered my soul since I crossed the Alps and entered Italy. We clambered up the hill-side, above the chapel ; the woodmen were felling and barking the tallest pines, while others were preparing for young ones. The meadow land in front of and beside the convent, showed so green beside the dark forest that encircled it, and the plains and cities below afforded, by their contrast, a fresh charm to the peace and seclusion of the scene around. Tht day was fine, but mists were driving rapidly from the south, over the highest summits of the hills, revealing, ever and anon, through their shroud of grey, the tall pines and beeches that fringed the upper horizon. In returning to the convent, we agreed that a Sabbath here, where all was Sabbath, would be one of the most delightful things on earth ; and that memory might feed, and meditation might wander through long days and days in such a spot without weariness, without distraction. Every opening glade tempted us to enter, every rising path to ascend the mountain, and when satiated here, we might cross the ridge and descend on the sources of the Amo and the Tiber, where other sanctuaries overhang the valleys. * October 5. — (Lucca.) — The day was fine, though hot, the road very beautiful. At first it follows the left bank of the Sterchio along a level plain, richly cultivated ; the Apennines, at this point, highly picturesque in front. Presently the road enters a winding valley, its sides clothed with magnificent walnuts, vines, olives, and silver poplars. On, on you wind, passing a most re- markable bridge over the torrent, called by the country !?• :J S ■ ■ i ;:ji '\ \ ' •■:\ IV jl ' 1 t i 1 1 r 1 j f: % 'i , 1 284. Memorials of people Ponte di Diavolo, and with the usual legend attached to it. A few miles' drive in a rustic car set us down at the lowest of the series of villages appropriated to the baths, called Ponte a Seraglio. By this time we had quitted the valley of the Sterchio and taken that of the Lima, its tributary, whose direction is east and west. The scene that opened on us was of unwonted beauty. Picturesque cottages and hotels along the valley, the rushing river, the hill-sides richly clothed with woods already deeply embrowned and tinted by autumn, and through whose foliage white dwelling-houses everywhere appeared. I thought of the Ewings, so closely associated with days of sunny happiness, and whom I had heard so often speak of the charms of this spot In company with them, I often strode on through the romantic glen, passing village after village, while acacias and all other fragrant trees perfumed the air with familiar odours, which occasional showers of rain brought out with un- common freshness. At last we crossed the river, and through the fallen leaves of autumn, in a valley intensely Scottish, we wandered, unwilling to interrupt a happiness so great and so memorial. Wearied, however, with our journey, we finally stopped and retraced our steps with some deviations to the hotel. There we dined. After- wards visited and investigated the library attached to a reading-room, but not very well selected ; then strolling by the star-light, and with the river rushing by our side, we talked of old Scotland with fresh delight, the never- failing theme, when every other topic was fatigued. After all had retired, I again wandered out, heard the music of the stream, saw the lights twinkling on the hills and listened to the still more harrowing music of an awakened memory. \ ! "J. 51 '•I 1 un- , and asely iness 1 our with fter- to a ling ide, ver- ed. the the of jfokn Mackintosh, 285 * Sunday^ Oct. 7. — (Leghorn.) — I directed my steps to the Scotch Church, at no great distance. In front were lingering some sailors and other unmistakable countrymen, as they are wont to do at home before en- tering. I accosted one, probably the skipper of a mer- chant vessel lading in the port, and with a little boy in his hand. He was from Bute, and spoke with serious- ness of religion, and gratitude for the privilege of wor- ship here accorded him. I found he had lost his wife after a short illness, from cholera, at Glasgow, last Christmas \ and that his Httle boy was an orphan. I said to him what I could to deepen his love to God and devotedness to Him. The front seats were pre- pared for the celebration of the Lord's Supper, after sermon. I valued highly the privilege of once more sitting down to the Lord's Table, more Scotico^ and among so many of my countrymen. ' After service at two I was introduced to the vestry, and there made myself known to Mr. Stewart, and Mr. Wingate, the Jewish missionary, at present a fugitive from Pesth, and residing at Leghorn. The reception from both was very cordial. » * Tuesday^ Oct. 9. — I went out with Meyer, and to- gether we visited the graves of Smollett, Horner, and Martin — men how different ! and yet, now that death has made them neighbours in the tomb, each awakening a feeling of pensive thought and sadness. Smollett the gifted. Homer the upright, Martin the pious, each buried beneath an alien sky; would that we could suppose each drawing to the other, and imparting to him what he had to give. * Near this I again parted with dear Meyer, and left him desolate \ returned to the inn and found my i if IM y 1 : i\ I i , ■ I . i; il;j|ii \ nwlj ' ' 286 Memorials of English friend had gone back to the steamboat for Rome. I took the railway, and proceeded by Pisa to Pontedera. * It is sad to part with friends, and almost balances the pleasure of meeting them. ^Wednesday, Oct. 10. — (Volterra.) — Tossing, and miserable from my enemies, I rose and lay, rose and lay till, about half-past two a.m., I again dressed myself. At half-past three started in a cab. The morning air was fresh, even cold, the sky glorious. As day dawned in the east, the heights of Volterra already appeared in sight, tower and building crowning a long but still distant ridge of mountain. The country around was barren and wild in the extreme. No vegetation covered the undulating plain, but, on the contrary, everything be- tokened that I had now entered on the Maremma. Some smoking salt-pits to the right added to the wild- ness of the scene. Even when apparently near the city, we were still many miles distant, as the road has to wind by many zig-zags to reach the lofty eminence on which it stands. Most of the ascent I walked, until at last, passing under the fortress of Mastro, we entered by a gate fronting the west. It seemed stirprising at such a height to meet with shops, houses, and a living population. 'After breakfast, I inquired of my landlord if he could procure me any book on the subject of Volterra and its antiquities. He gave me one in Italian, and offered to request the loan of one in English from a countryman of my own in the house. The result was an invitation to the room of my compatriot, which I accepted, and found a genuine antiquarian and his niece, a Dr. Bromet, late of the First Life Gaards, who John Mackintosh, 287 his who was quartered here for some days to explore the Etruscan monuments. He showed me a translation of Valery's Italy, which I read on Volterra, and then we had much conversation on architecture, antiquities, and things in general. We arranged to go together to the Museum, and what other places merited a visit. * Our cicerone first took us to the Porta dell' Arco to trie west of the town, behind the Cathedral, through which the view ot the country below was very striking. The gate itself is Roman and Etruscan, and from its arches, its massive blocks, and three heads which orna- ment it without, well merits attention. Portions of the Etruscan as well as Roman wall appeared on either side. * Returning to the town, we presented ourselves at the Museum, kept in the Hotel de Ville, and where a canon of the town awaited our arrival, to show the room which contains the most valuable relics, and which cannot be seen except in his company. Here the collection of remains is indeed most admirable ; but our opportunity of viewing them was rather hurried. All instruments used in sacrifices — the knife, the rake for tearing out the entrails, the patera of libation, and the bowl for receiving the blood, were there in order ; mirrors, also clasps, bracelets, and other ornaments of attire ; vases of all ages, gods, writing materials, rings, chains, horse-gear, instruments for the baths, and the like, filled the drawers and shelves, from which a very faithful idea might be formed of the manners and customs of the Etrurians. In other chambers were in- scriptions and statues, with an innumerable number of funeral urns, representing on their sides the Grecian X ••\ ' j ! I i'-i 1 ''i; -in: I'M 288 * t.j 0. Memorials of mythology, legends, fancies, and other stories. Were the latter arranged in order, they might throw light on the progress of art, as well as on the origin and inter- course of the early Etrurians. As it is, they corroborate Grecian story, and give a clue to the ideas, dress, and advancement of those ancient people. '■October ii.— (The Maremma.) — Upon the hill I had an opportunity of viewing more nearly the character of this desolate region. The soil is white and clayey, with scanty traces of cultivation. Here and there a solitary and very miserable farm-steading appears, sepa- rated from others like it by ravines and chasms. The houses are perched on the higher eminences just as the cities crowned the surrounding heights. The appear- ance of Volterra from below on its high and broad- backed hill was very imposing. About half way the country became more smiling, covered with rich woods and fields, and a far more numerous population. It rained much and heavily, but my courage did not fail The approaching evening supplied me with many thoughts of home, so much did scenery and climate re- semble those familiar to me. * October 13. — (Sienna.) — ^Arriving at the hotel (de I'Aigle), I at first thought of going to bed till my clothes should be dried, but ultimately, through the landlord's suggestion, had dinner in a little parlour, where a cheer- ful wood fire was kindled for me, and my garments dried as I fed. I confess I had a damper, not counting upon such a disaster in Italy in the middle of October, but being in high health my spirits rallied, and in the even- ing I went out to escplore and raise my thoughts above the accidents of time and sense. * After breakfast went out to see the town, and first tones. Were hrow light on igin and inter- ey corroborate eas, dress, and 3n the hill I y the character ite and clayey, e and there a appears, sepa- chasms. The ices just as the The appear- gh and broad- t half way the vith rich woods )opulation. It yQ did not fail, le with many and climate re- the hotel (de till my clothes the landlord's where a cheer- garments dried counting upon )f October, but id in the even- thoughts above town, and first w\ yohn Mackintosh, 289 to the Cathedral. It delighted me by its finished beauty, being decidedly one of the four finest I have seen in Italy — Milan, Florence, and Pisa the others. Within and without this one seems complete. The front is very rich, the campanile and dome handsome, but of course poor in comparison with those at Florence. The piazza in which the Cathedral stands is in harmony with it, and helps to set off its beauty. Within you know not what to admire most — the roof, the pavement of mosaic marble, the walls with frescoes more distinct than is usually the case, the stained windows, the dome, the pillars, all are admirable, and produce together quite a dazzling effect on the aesthetic. I stood for a long time at the entrance riveted with delight, and regarding this as one of the most finished epitomes of church architec- ture. I surrendered myself to its influence, resolving to do away with prejudice, and to try it on its own merits ; the result I shall elsewhere state, and at greater length, having made a still larger induction ; but impressions such as I this morning received are not forgotten, but help inconceivably to mould the ultimate judgment to which we come. ' I went to see a private gallery of paintings in the Casa Sanacini, containing some good ones ; but what most struck me was a fresco in the chapel, of the Crucifixion, where the countenance of our Lord's mo- ther fainting at the foot of the cross, fairly added an idea to my mind. You could see there her who had treasured in her heart all the promises given of her Son, marked all His perfect life, felt His Divinity, and yet who now saw Him expiring on the cross. A sword had pierced through her own heart, and the agonized, bereaved, disappointed mother, is admirably depicted. T ! , til !-i^ . I ''m ■ > ■ ; jij I =1^ T M i! ,. If ill 304 Memorials of tiiis pilgrimage, and if the full-eyed moon happen to rise over my head, and throw its pensive influence over wall and tower, I divest myself of all sympathy with the present, and seem to feel the toga hanging from my shoulder, and enter expecting to meet with Cicero, or the mighty Caesar. Every gate, too, is connected with some mighty event in history. By this Alaric entered over-night with his Goths, and the glory was departed. Here Hannibal would have entered — this was betrayed to Totila and his Vandals ; and again, by this Belisa- rius retook the prostrate city ; last, though not least, by this St. Paul must have entered from Appii Forum, and the Tres Tabernae. Oh ! glorious is the way by which he must have passed, though it had not then the orna- ments that have come down to us. It was the same with that of the conquerors. Winding between the Aventine and Caelian, and then between the Caelian and the Palatine, you pass under the magnificent Arch of Constantine; then, leaving the gigantic Coliseum on the right, you slowly skirt the Palatine, passing between palaces on the one hand, and ruined temples on the other, until, at the top of a gentle slope, you reach the Arch of Titus. From this, the Forum bursts upon you with its pillars and porticoes, showing the wealth of temples that must have adorned it ; then, by the Via Sacra, you descend and traverse it, and, if you please, ascend the Capitol at its extremity. No one could be disappointed with the remains and the appropriate con- dition of ancient Rome ; and day after day, often with some classic in my hand, do I spend among them, re- calling, repeopling, re-inhabiting, and gathering, as I may, that instruction and aggrandizement of spirit which they are so fitted to convey. yohn Mackintosh, l^S * But I daresay, dear Norman, though all this interests you — yet in the strong, practical nineteenth century, and religious bent of your mind — you would wish me rather to have enlarged on the city of the Pope. Well, its interest, always great, is daily increasing on my spirit Of course I omit no opportunity of gathering such in- formation, and making such observations as I can, but this must be the work of time ; and it is especially in this point of view, that I have proposed to remain here for the winter ; but we imbibe so much prejudice with our mother's milk ; we have so much thrust upon us as the offspring of Calvin and of Luther, that I am anxious calmly to examine for myself, and have my judgment of the Romish system intelligent and candid. I know you will approve of this, and would not have me, at my years, to come here a ready-made judge, instead of a patient learner and observer ; nor do I think that the vulgar mode of argument, what may be called the slan^ of the question, is what will avail in the coming struggle. Now it seems to me that as I am not flying through Rome, as I intended, this answer to your letter will please you better than a more direct one, and I hope to hear so soon. Briefly, you cannot but be conscious that you are here in the city of the Pope ; there is great solemnity, great decorum, great gravity — no sights by day or night are suffered to offend the eye — the streets are early silent— even swearing is repressed by law. On Sunday all shops shut ; day and night the air is melodious with church or convent bells ; and where service is performed, it is generally well attended ; but, then, what is that service ? Ah ! there is the question : at first sight the grossnesses present themselves ; but I want to read, and probe, and hear what is to be said U f ' ) ; ■! i.i'i 1,1 ■| ; iMj I I'' ' V'.'V 306 Memorials of that reconcilea a Bellarmine, a Pascal, and a Bossuet to what offends me. As far as I can learn, the mass of the Romans are republicans, and would wish the govern- ment vested in the laity. Many of those, however, would retain the Pope, even as a temporal sovereign, and are stanch Catholics ; the others are infidels, and only talk of Protestantism because they hate the priests. Strange to say, even where the priests are notoriously corrupt, which is not specially the case here, the Catholic Italian distinguishes carefully between the man and his office. I cannot hear of anything permanently effected by Protestant efforts during the Republic. Of course all clubs are now dissolved ; the cardinals, who are displeasing all parties by their vindictiveness, having quickly put a stop to them.. I saw a gentleman who had visited the Inquisition during the Republic, and described its dungeons in blackest colours ; but, of course, they are now closed again for ages to come. There is little doubt, the Pope was on the eve of re- turning, when the new somerset in the French Cham- bers deterred him. He is personally loved. Being of a liberal family, he wished reforms, and began them most judiciously, thereby alienating all the Cardinals and High Church party. The return he met with for this from the people, unaccustomed to any concession of political influence, was demand upon demand, until he was be- sieged in the Vatican, and forced to flee. They have thus themselves chiefly to blame for the re-imposition of the galling yoke. When he returns, he will be wel- comed, for he is better than the cardinals ; and without him trade, etc., languish. Now I must reserve many remarks I have already made, and many more I hope t9 make, for a future letter, where you shall have no John Mackintoshm Z^7 rubbish about old Rome. How grateful all your views of home ! My warmest love to your dad, the Doctor, your mother, and all others. How blessed you are in your work ! yes, I will say even from amid the frscina- tions of Rome, how enviable ! I wish I could get Meyer here — but it would be impossible. Thanks, thanks for your loving counsel, which was not unneeded, nor, I hope, unprofitable. Blessed be God, He restores my soul often by sharp chastisements, reminding me that I am a son and not a bastard. You are daily in my prayers, and I ever am your fondly attached. — Yes, you shall have the best view of Rome that I can procure, and aught else I can think would interest you — a friend to whom I owe many of the happiest hours of my life, much mental development, and not a few faithful and well-timed warnings — a friend, the thought of whom brightens my future.' TO ROBERT BALFOUR, ESQ. • *RoME, Feb. 22, 185a * My VERY DEAR Balfour, ... On the subject of the Academy — could I be forgetful of it here, where I know not whether the images of early days, or the records of the great Romans themselves, predominate in piy mind, or are most touching 1 We little know the harvest of delight which is being prepared in boyhood with its pains, and little did I then suspect how wisely we were made acquainted with the history, literature, and institu- tions of old Rome. The ages are not unconnected — the human family is still the same, and often with amaze- ment do I now recognise analogies of which I never dreamt before. ... I traversed the Alps with the :i ' 1 < !l i il 308 Memorials of emotions of a hero, and descended into those plains which our fancy has almost celestialized. Much, how- ever, as the north of Italy struck me, it was not till I again crossed the Apennines and reached Florence, that I realized all that poets have sung of earth, air, and sky. Finally, I distinguish ir this respect even between Florence and Rome. Here, it is that you have a liquid ether overhead, that seems to lend its character to every object, and invest the most common with the glory of a dream. The sky is perfect whether by night or day. Rome speaks with a majesty of sorrow that never ceases to solemnize and impress — the Campagna, a vast wilderness, in vhich, with a narrow border ol cultivation, Rome is placed, seems never to have acknow> ledged the Christian era, but mournfully to count from the foundation of the city ; destitute of all buildings save the ruins of antiquity, majestic aqueducts and sepulchres — the ghosts of greatness ; ye*- oh ! the beauty of the wild flowers, "fresh with < hood," that cover its grassy turf; the gladness of ^i.. ark that shouts above, only rendering its melancholy more touching ; the lovely views of the Alban and other hills that line it, and where each modem town, gleaming whitely on their flanks, marks the site of some famous place — Alba Longa, Tusculum, Praeneste, Tibur; so that it is positively more easy to live in the past than in the present I am more than satisfied with Rome j I am in love — in- toxicated ; and how I am to break the chain when the sad time comes, I know not; but come it must, and that soon. . . . * My dear Balfour, although you may think me a great truant, I long to be once more among my dear friends^ surrounded by those means of grace so necessary for HI /-^ nt I -in- ;n the and great iends^ ry foi John Mackintosh, 309 personal religion, and with those opportunities of useful- ness, no less a privilege than a duty. If the Lord will, I trust that this time may be near ; but in the meantime, it is incumbent to work where I am. I find that every situation has its discipline, and if we are the Lord's children and walking in His ways, that He will not fail to guide us, whether by chastisement or by eucourage- ment. But for this, I know not where I might now be — with so much to engross the spirit, and offer a happi- ness, as it were, apart from God. I believe I have your prayers, as you have mine ; and when you write, do not fail to say what you think may quicken or reprove me.' Diary. — * Sunday, Oct. 21. — (St. Peter's.) — Having formed the resolution to dismiss all prejudice, and regard the Roman Cntholic religion with as much respect as possible in examining its merits and demerits, I was not a little staggered, just after reverting to my purpose, by observing the superstitious reverence paid to a statue of St. Pete- I had forgotten this famous statue was here ; and so, in passing it, had wondered at the peculiar appearance of one of the feet. Soon, however, a re- spectably-dressed man came up, did obeisance, and then placed his head under the foot, concluding by wiping and kissing it. This process was gone through by many persons of all ranks, mothers holding up even their infants to render the homage. My assumed respect gave way for the moment to a smile. At last, without on this occasion observing the church in its details, I sat down upon a bench, and read through the Epistle to the Romans with much attention and admiration. I sup- pose I spent about three hours in this delightful study, after which I left the church. u i i 1 : \ ' i ' ■ • ■"! 310 Memorials of I ■ * Oct 22. — My steps were turned by the Piazza di Minerva, wliere is an obelisk once dedicated to her, now to Mary, towards the quarter of the Ghetto. I soon reached it, between the Capitol and the river. It is of considerable extent, and entirely occupied by Jews. There they have continued since the days ot Claudius and Nero, hedged off as it were from their fellow-citizens, as though their touch were pollution. I confess that on seeing them with their strongly-marked Israelitish features, old men and maidens, young men and children, my heart for the first time warmed towards the living Jews. It seemed as if but one day intervened between the time when they were visited by Paul, and persecuted by the Romans. Outcast Israel ! — there was something touching in their looks, especially of the old, as though Zion were still written on their hearts. Still, too, be- loved of God, and excluded only for a season, faith could leap over this future interval as easily as the past, and see them once more within their own borders. There was nothing inharmonious in the sight of them amid so much that is venerable, as may be said of the modem Romans ; nay, more antique than all, they throw a shade on the monuments that surround them. * Oct. 24. — The custode conducted me to the tower on the summit of the chief Senator's palace upon the Capitol. Workmen were busy repairing the tower, part of the edifice, once, I believe, a prison. From the top what a prospect, whether as regards its natural, poetical, or historic interest. Rome ancient and Rome modem beneath you, with their monuments of almost all the epochs the world has seen ; beyond, the mountains with their classic heights and villages ; north, but especially south, the vast tract of the Campagna, by no means the IN yohyi Mackintosh, 31^ if f ■■!. least interesting, or even the least poetic feature of Rome. It harmonizes with, and indeed contributes to this character of " a living death." It has all the soli- tary dreariness of the sea, with this in addition, that its breath is deadly. Soracte ends the chain of mountains to the north. , •* Here would I sit, and haply meditate, Until my soul were channeled by the Past Conducting to the Future ; for deem not Those seven hills have played their farewell part" * As I descended from my elevation, French troops were again deploying through the Arch of Titus and the Forum. Never before did old Rome appear to me so : ** Childless and crownless in her voiceless woe ;** uttering not a word ; yet the very ground seemed to me to heave with indignant sorrow that the foreign conqueror should thus trample on her holiest spots, where the memory of the dead should have awakened reverence and awe. There is nothing in the world so touching as fallen majesty enduring insult * Oct. 25. — Descended to the Forum, and again more fully identified its remains from the Arch of Severus to that of Constantine. The Forum, of course, ended at the Temple of Antoninus, but all this open ground I include in the term. As I stood towards sunset, between the Arch of Titus and of Constantine, and filled up the picture with those churches, baths, palaces, and columns, of which the fragments, often only the sites, now remain, I became conscious of the magnificent spectacle which must have greeted the Roman's eye as he entered the city by the Via Appia. Advancing between the beauti- ful Ca^lian and Palatine, he would skirt round the latter T ' 'i! 312 Memorials of to the left, passing, in after times, under the Arch of Constantine, then ascending to that of Titus between magnificent baths and palaces, until at this point he came in sight of the Forum with its wealth of temples, and the Capitoline, no less decorated, beyond. I can fancy nothing more sumptuous, whether for natural or historic interest ; and this stand-point, just beyond the Arch of Titus, must be one of my favourites. It is probable that the Via Sacra passed under this A*" ;h, and onwards by that of Severus to the Capitol — favourite walk of Horace, as he tells us. Entered the Coliseum again, and thought of Ignatius and the Christian martyrs, repeopling it with spectators. As I mused, many passed, stopping reverentially to kiss a cross on the centre. An indulgence is promised them for this, but were it spon- taneous, I could not but be moved by the sight, and indeed was so. * Oct. 26. — Made for the Mamertine prisons below the Capitol. They are of republican construction, or rather regal. You descend to them by a staircase beneath the Church of St. Giuseppe. The upper one is vaulted, I believe, in Etruscan style, and a round hole in the floor communicated with the lower, a small dungeon cut and built in the rock, not much more than six feet high, and formerly without either light or air. A fright- ful place ; here Jugurtha was starved to death ; here Catiline's accomplices were strangled; and here, says tradition, Peter and Paul were confined nine months. The impression of Peter's face was shown me on the rock, carefully protected by an iron grating. Also a well which he is said to have caused to flow, in order to baptize his converted jailers. I tasted it It was fresh enough ; and my guide drank a jug of it to convince me yohn Mackintosh. Z^'h the a to esh me it was not stagnant. Nevertheless, I have some doubts of its source being there. Above is a shrine to Peter and Paul, entered from the street ; and all day, apparently, the faithful frequent it with offerings and pravers. The heat was suffocating. * On leaving the Palatine, I returned and dined ; then, by moonlight, retraced the Corso, that I might see my favourite spots under its bewitching influence. There was an opiate in the air which had the same effect as the Schlangenbad waters ; it made one in love with everything, even with himself. I seemed walking in a dream, even as I trod the crowded streets ; how much more when I got among columns, arches, and the poetry of ruins ! A mellow light suffused them, and a balmy atmosphere enveloped, that might have tempted the old Romans from their tombs. * How soft and visionary the pillars of Vespasian's and Saturn's Temples, as if steeped in the sleep of centuries ! the Palatine, in the shade, dark and haunted looking ; the Arch of Titus grand, but still more that of Constantine ; and the romantic road between the Pala- tine and Cselian, bearing away from the Appian gate. And then, too, the Coliseum; but here I felt the contrari- ousness of my nature, which will not go in the beaten track. So much has been said and sung of it, and so many visit it by moonlight, that I could only see, not feel, or at least not feel to enthusiasm, its beauty. Yet beautiful it was, grand, sublime, a world-creation. Its bulk impresses me more on passing between it and the Esquiline than even from its centre. Home again by the Corso, without being stabbed, robbed, or aught else. O for one hour of Cicero in the Forum, to awake once more the nobility of Roman spirit ! Or rather once :'f. j; :!^ . i 'i ■ i! 1 ; -M f.. 1 VJi ?^ :i i^ 3H Memorials of •^ ^ more for Paul to confute and set right his followers who worship his slightest relic, and yet steep their hands in the blood of the saints, his true successors : " Ye build the tombs of the prophets, and garnish the sepulchres of the righteous. Wherefore ye be witnesses unto your- selves, that ye are the children of them which killed the prophets ! " * Oct. 27. — In spite of last night's sleeplessness, I have never had a day in which the past stood more vividly before my eyes. Passing the Coliseum, and looking towards the Esquiline, I had Horace, Maecenas, and Virgil so distinctly realized, that I could have con- tinued for hours in their company : Horace, the lover of wine and good cheer, the admirer of pretty girls, writing with ease his odes, and reciting them at his next interview with Maecenas ; talking, too, with him of other matters, as of Augustus — still a marvel to them as the first Emperor, feared and yet loved, and flattered for his favours ; and then the politics of the Roman world — architecture, rural matters, men, manners, and what not. Virgil, too, caressed at court, but a separate spirit. His visit to Greece, and the talk it would occasion be- fore and after I How singular the suddenness of this transition from a Republic to an Empire ! and what a clever fellov/ Augustus must have been, to effect and perpetuate it ! I thirst to read an intelligent history of the gradually predisposing causes of this in the wane of the republican spirit, and the misguided conspiracy against the first Caesar. * Sunday, Oct. 28. — On entering the Porta Angelica, I was much shocked at this barefaced perversion of Scripture, printed in large characters on the church adjoining the gate : — " Let us therefore come boldly to yohn Mackintosh, Z^S the throne of Mary, that we may find mercy to pardon, and grace to help in time of need" — the original of course in Latin. Take the most favourable view of Popery, overlook their priesthood, their Pope, even their restriction of Scriptures, and such a breach of the first commandment is staggering. O Lord, lead me into all truth ! Enable me to form an impartial and correct judgment of this part of professing Christians, and on other points keep me from error, and guide me by Thy Spirit ; above all, may the love of Christ dwell richly and habitually in my heart, and bring fortli in me the fruits of godly living. * Thursday^ Nov. i. — Church-bells ringing tumultu- ously, followed by the firing of cannon, awoke me at an early hour this morning. It was All-Saints'-Day, and hence the demonstration. After breakfast, I deliberated how I should spend it, and repaired to TrinitJi del Monte, the nearest parish church. Although ten o'clock, the hour of service, no mass was being celebrated, but a few worshippers were scattered in a church of great beauty, where the bright light of day was subdued and hallowed before we entered, and the fragrance of incense told gratefully on the senses. Nothing loath, I joined the worshippers in silent prayer — perhaps the only cir- cumstance in the Roman Catholic ritual where I feel in- clined, nay prone, to unite with them. Those churches, ever open, and affording a calm retreat from the bustle and ungodliness of the world, refresh the spirit * After my devotions, I found that I was a prisoner, the church belonging to a convent of nuns, employed in the education of children of the upper classes. One of the venerable ladies, however, whom I had observed moving about, pointed out to me a side entrance by m'-i: ?:i r>i' I ■' ■ f i>'^' % u i'l 330 Memorials of a small library, and where a Tablet and Galignani are always to be found. Afterwards one of the dormitories, without fireplace, but most snug, with its little bed, crucifix, and holy water by the side, select collection of books, reading-desk, etc. Thence we ascended to the roof, open but covered, and commanding an extensive view over the Famese, the Cancellaria, St. Peter's, and many surrounding churches, with the Quirinal and Capitol in the distance. The evening was peculiarly lovely, and we lingered long here talking of various matters. Finally, we descended to the library, a large apartment, apparently furnished with a most select col- lection of books, from which literature, whether English, French, or Italian, was by no means excluded. Thence to the refectory and chapel, both exceedingly nice and in keeping with the rest of the edifice. I have omitted to mention the theatre, with a regular stage and curtain, where the students perform plays from Shakspere, Beau- mont, Fletcher, and others. The present number of students here represented has dwindled to a dozen, although the college may contain some sixty. Of these no less than four were from Cambridge ! Walking in the corridor, it being now dark, we conversed on many subjects, but specially the habits of the college, and the present subjects of lecture and study. They have morning chapel at 6.15, evening 7.30; breakfast, dine, and sup together at 8, 12.30, and 7. During part of the time one of the students reads aloud from the Latin Bible and Lives of Saints, and at another time from Alison's French Revolution. The lectures in Latin are upon the future state of the soul, whether and how far it enjoys the beatific vision of God. On this point depends their theory for explaining how the saints hear prayers or John Mackintosh, Zl^ If', receive intuition of them, so to speak, in God. The Fathers in their days, and the Roman Catholics in ours, have exactly the same battle to fight, with different sets of heretics, on this important point I confess the question in itself seemed to me only worthy of the schoolmen. We got to speak also of the Rationalists aid infidels, and Spinoza and Lord Herbert. I could perceive from all this how wide a range of learning and research was allowed and required, at least of English priests. Ignorance is by no means part of their system, nw exclusiveness of their studies. Their library con- tains many Protestant works, not excepting even such as Middleton's Letters from Rome. . All this is politic, as well as wise and judicious. Our friend, at parting, gave us many invitations to return, ot which I could gladly avail myself * Towards nine I went to the Forbeses, in my morning clothes, forsooth, and found a large party of Levens, Duncans (Camperdown), Archdeacon Hodson and family, Mr. and Mrs. Acworth (pretty daughter of Mr. Close of Cheltenham), the Hanoverian Ambassa- dor, the Hays, etc. I was introduced to everybody, and by dint of modesty in keeping in a corner, enjoyed the evening very much, and heard some good Scotch songs sweetly sung by the Miss Hays, that did my heart good. The kindness of the Forbeses makes me ashamed. Home by 11.30, bearing away another book they have lent me. ^ Saturday y Dec. 15. — Rather poorly this forenoon. O my Lord and Saviour ! at the close of another week, more deeply conscious than ever of my helplessness without Thee, either to resist sin, or to do good, I cast myself on Thy divine grace, mercy, and strength ; and ■ a;; 33^ Memorials of ■•ri : i! ; t. if 1 , 1 ! ; I 1;^^' I know that Thou wilt not leave me nor forsake me I Mould me according to the good pleasure of Thy will ; and when temptations abound, may Thy grace much more abound 1 " I am Thine, save me." *Z>ec. 19. — Dull day, but health better than yesterday, and study good. Afternoon, allowed myself to wander through the heart of modem Rome, looking at all the shop windows and stalls, the countenances of the people, the markets, everything in short — studying life. Bating cold fingers, I can fancy no more thorough or delicious diversion for the mind. The history of such a progress, with the sudden and widely different trains of thought suggested, would make an interesting paper. The cameo windows, the marble and bronze models of ruins and statues, each of course pregnant with ideas, and bringing within the ken details hardly noticed in the originals ; suddenly a palace with the arms of the Knights of St John; the people of the Corso; and soon after the different class of the market-place in the Piazza Navona ; the little birds, alive and dead, exposed for sale, sug- gested many natural history inquiries, and wafted the •jpirit to the gardens where they lately carolled; the Swiss Palace; the endless suggestions of the market- place, leading the mind to those of other cities in Ger- many, France, Belgium, or England ; the palaces ; the architecture of the streets; the appearance and occu- pants of the shops, when lit for the evening — all afforded a feast, and a useful one, which I hope oftener to enjoy : for my mind needs diversion as much as the body exer- cise ; and I believe the one may be sometimes not inaptly substituted for the other. * Monday, Dec. 24. — It is the custom at Rome to bring in Christmas-day by watching. Having fasted the *John Mackintosh, ZZ'S previous day, they assemble towards evening at each other's houses, and regale themselves on cakes, etc., and play games till the churches begin to open, towards eleven. They then go out and spend the night and early morning in visiting one or more of these. At eleven I repaired with Hemans to St. Luigi Francese, which was brilliantly illuminated, and where half of the nave had reserved seats, with one of which we were accommodated, Having a Breviary, and Hemans by my side, I war able to follow the whole service, and en- joyed its beauty and piety very much. The selection of psalms, hymns, and prayers, was most beautiful, and the chanting and music excellent Towards mass, a French military band lent its aid, and altogether the service was most imposing. It did not conclude till one A.M., at which time the crowd in going out was very great, and, being greatly composed of French, full of levity and irreligion. We hastened to the Ara Coeli, on the Capitol, and the view of those grand spots by lus- trous moonlight, and under a deep blue frosty sky, was delicious. The church itself was dimly bright, and from its site and the occasion led me particularly to think how miraculously the humble babe of Bethlehem had overturned and supplanted the empire of the world. The bambino and prasepio were not, however, exposed. At two I parted with Hemans, and made my way to Santa Maria Maggiore, on the Esquiline, where, had the Pope been here, he would in person have celebrated mass at midnight To-night the service was not till three, and I had to wait for an hour with many others in the cold. On my way all Rome seemed to be quietly astir ; but every shop being shut, under penalties, there was no drunkenness or indecorum. At last we were I - ' ,*i 1'"!^ i: i ii ^n^'M 1 ^''A 1 ii.^ilfl^^l ■ 334 Memorials of |ii admitted, and a blaze of light burst upon the view — the long Basilica being splendidly illuminated. A line of troops on either side kept open the centre of the nave. The service was long and tedious, taking place at the extreme end of the church, so that the effect of both music and chanting was much lost The Hodsons were there, and with them I conversed. At last, about five, the procession took place ; but it was very poor in point of numbers, the cardinal-vicar alone of the cardinals, and, of course, no Pope. They returned with the silver culla or cradle, with the figure of an infant on the top, and this they bore in procession into one of the side- chapels. At this stage we all departed; and, bitterly cold, I got to bed soon after six. ^ Dec. 25. — Slept till nearly ten, and woke refreshed, thinking of the glad event which this day is selected to commemorate. So rose, and being too late for St Peter's and even for the English Chapel — ^feeling, too, the need of retirement and spiritual repose, remained the forenoon at home. Read the narrative in the four Gospels, the Church of England service, and looked over some Roman Catholic books of devotion, till two ; then to St Peter's. The music there fine, and had some sweet thoughts. ' Called on Hemans ; papers briefly, and at nine to the Acworths, by invitation, to tea. Most delightful evening; the Hastings there. At the end, the dear Archdeacon (Hodson), whose voice reminds me so much of Rev. C. Brown's, read some verses from Philip- pians on our Lord's humiliation, and exhorted us most beautifully, by His example, to humility and the denial of self, concluding with a prayer full of unction. Often have I longed for such social religious communion; John Mackintosh, ^^S to tful ear so ip- lost lial ten and to-night my heart literally overflowed with gratitude to God and love to His dear servant, apparently so en- dowed with his Master's spirit Home early, walking part of way with Mr. Gordon, a young English clergy- man, here for his health. Father, to Thy name be praise for this day's mercies in Christ I ^ Dec. 28. — My dear mother's birthday, of whom my thoughts have been very full Heavenly Father, mul- tiply to her abundantly grace, mercy, and peace ; how great a blessing the good news I have received from her all the time of my absence hitherto ! Continue, Lord, Thy loving-kindness ; and if it be Thy gracious will, spare us to meet again, and to labour together in Thy service, and make me the comfort and support of her declining years, for Jesus Christ's sake ! * Sunday, Dec. 30. — Bitterly cold day. Forenoon and afternoon to chapel. Between services walked on the Pincian to warm myself, and lost in raptures at the glorious sky and atmosphere, so still, so transparent, so " serenely, brightly, beautifully blue." After last service I took another turn up the banks of the Tiber. Evening at home ; read the Scriptures, and Stanley's St Paul, — the Judaizers. To-day endeavoured to recall the sin- gular mercies of the past year, whether to myself or to my dear mother, in her preservation, though cholera raged around, and for all the love and happiness she has enjoyed. I tried also to raise my heart in thankful- ness to God, confessing my sins and shortcomings, and imploring Him not, on this account, to remove His favour ; and now I desired to make myself over to Him, and to live entirely to His glory. In the year I am about to enter may He bestow upon me largely His grace, and be Himself my Shepherd and Teacher, ^ ;■ 33« Memorials of * Dee. 31. — At dinner, a travelling wine-merchant from Montauban, whom I have met there re[)eatedly, showed me an infinitesimal portion of the true cross, pasted on red ribbon, within a little crucifix, and accompanied with a printed authenticate, and the signature of the Bishop (Castellani) from whom it had been got. He had procured it for his wife, who is a strict Catholic : also ^ small portion of the bones of St Augustine. Without implying doubt of its authenticity, I spoke to him of the cross still more real, that every Christian can and ought to bear in his heart and life. We had some further conversation on the essentials of religion, which I thought better than to attack him in bad French on the errors of RomanisnL < The last day of the year. Again, as throughout the day, I desire to humble myself under a sense of un- worthiness, and innumerable sins and shortcomings throughout its course, biding myself under the covert of my Saviour's atonement and obedience. In Thee, O Lord, is all my hope for the year to come ; but through Thee, I can do all things, overcome temptation, re- nounce self, and bring forth the fruits of love to God and man, unto Thy praise and glory. O undertake for me, and accomplish great things in me and by me I Confessing, thanking, and casting myself on Christ for pardon and strength, I close a year of absence from home, of living among strangers, of wanderings^ of £>• perience, and of signal merdea.* John Mackintosh, Z37 CHAPTER XIIT. Rome. 1850 : Letters and Journals — Letter to hl« Youngest Sister — To A. Bum Murdoch, Esq. — Service in the Greek Church of St. Atha- naaia — Visit to the GhettO'— the Propaganda — the Jewish SynaROKiie — Convent of Ara Cceli — Catechizing in Church of San Andrea- Museum of Capitol. TO HIS YOUNGEST SISTER. • Rome, Jan. 2, 185a *This is the first time I have written 1850, and it comes strange to my hand. I can hardly believe that we are already half way through the nineteenth century ; and certainly never was that imaginary wall which separates one year from another passed by me more imperceptibly, though not, I trust, without earnest en- deavours to make it a religious epoch in my personal history. Yet so it is ; we have entered on another con- ventional division of time; and I fancy there is no reflecting person but says, in looking back on the past, " I have cause for tl anksgiving and humiliation ;" in looking out on the future, " I resolve, in divine grace, on a more consistent, loyal, and loving life towards God and my fellow-men.*' Such, from the tone of your last letters, is, I doubt not, your frame of mind ; and may the God of all mercy, the Saviour of all compassion, and the Holy Spirit of resistless power, give you strength to fulfil, nay, to surpass your resolutions. What He may be teaching you, you yourself know best, for none can tell it for another ; but through many various ways He Y i 33^ Me^rormls of calls us into His fold — and that His eye and love are upon you, is my fond hope and fervent prayer. ... I was truly happy to hear of the pleasant impressions with which you left j and you may deem yourself happy that the age is not past when anything in life can be called balmy and enchantinit That spontaneous efflu- ence of youth, must with youth, I fear, pass away from us all, and the enjoyment must then come from perhaps a higher region of our nature, but by a more laborious and uncertain process. I am not sure but that I should write to you from Rome as I did from Geneva, and pos- sibly should from any other given quarter of the globe, that the poetry of our own bonny north is greater, and its associations more trumpet-tongued than those of the Forum or the Vatican — it may be, than Athens and Jerusalem ; but no, this last, and all the other melting names of Scripture, are part and parcel of the favoured class which we have learned at our mother's knees on Sabbath evenings, and by the domestic hearth. Yet Rome is a thrilling place, absolutely inexhaustible in its power of awakening echoes, and touching chords that vibrate through the whole being. Sometimes for a moment you wander forth, as though the dust you tread upon were common ground ; but anon, some sight or soand-"-or it may be no sight or sound at all, but a flash of consciousness — brings the facts before your mind, and you feel inclined to take the shoes from off your feet, and move on in holy reverential mood. I am sometimes oppressed with the multitude of memories, and the eagerness on the spot to probe more dee|}!y this, to follow out that train of thought already known, while it is impossible to do all, or nearly all. In this cold weather, fiercely cold — for such a winter has been John Mackintosh. 339 rarely known at Rome — it is not so easy to stand and dream among hills and monuments, the hands finding their way too readily into the breeches pockets, and the nose hanging out signals of distress. I accordingly betake myself more to the ceremonies in the churches, which afford a fine opportunity of actually becoming acquainted with the ritual, observances, and teaching of the Church of Rome. Young Hemans (I wrote some of you that I had made acquaintance with the youngest son of the poetess) is often my guide on such occasions — he is unfortunately a converted Catholic — and I can fully understand here what are the outward and sesthetic attractions of the system, not to speak of its inward adaptations to human nature. Nothing can exceed the grandeur and soothing softness of the music on their great occasions, or the artistic effect of light and orna- ment in their churches. Advent, Christmas, and Lent now approaching, besides special feasts, are important epochs in their Christian year, and contain, as was to be expected, a large amount of what is good in their manner of celebration, mingled with very much that is objectionable. H* wever, I do not come as a ready- made John Knox to the study, but with the wish to pass through the successive stages of the Reformation for myself, independently of Luther and the rest Actual Rome, apart fVom its religious aspect, offers many features of interest, whether in its people, its customs, or its environs ; including, of course, those Apennines, whose very name is magic, and the Cam- pagna — vast, melancholy, and majestic ! Summer, how- ever, lends to all these a large portion of theii mystery and enchantment, although we have days even now when the heavens look so limpid and transparent, that % ' t 340 Memorials of you could almost think to pierce them, and discover the inner heaven itself, yet the lights on the mountains are not so apparent ; and you may traverse the Campagna as you would a moor, instead of visiting it, so to speak, only by stratagem, and. as it were, under pain of death from its invisible malaria. Still old Tiber is always there ; the ruins shout the glorious greatness of other days, and so predominate over modem Rome as to give it the appearance, as has been said, of a city of pilgrims encamping under their shadow. After full two months of a sort of wild abandon^ unbroken by the sight of a single familiar face, my friends have suddenly turned up — ^a position, you will say, by no means unnatural for me ; I am here with a very small amount of toggery, having sent most of my effects from Switzerland to Ber- lin, in expectation of being there this winter. I cannot afford a fresh rig, but manage audaricsly to go about in mufty — a wholesome restraint ; r .aps on over- dissipation. This small anecdote will remind you of old times, and show you, that amid all the divinizing influences of Rome, I am still human. But enough of self; exit Jack, having already well-nigh filled two pages. If mother has not previously read this letter, you will write to her of it, and say that if not in my arms, at least in my heart, I carried her about with me the whole of the 28th of December, and even hope she had a consciousness of my so doing, although I could not manage to make a letter fall in on that day.' TO A. BURN MURDOCH, ESQ. * RoMK, Jan. 13, 185a *Were it not for my firm belief in the leadings of God's providence, I should regret your not sharing with John Mackintosh, 341 }- ; ■! of of ;es. wUl at [hole id a not of ith me this chapter in my education at Rome — for I thin\ we are entered on a time when all our hereditary re- ligious opinions must be revised, and adopted anew from a more personal, and therefore profound persuasion of their truth. Now the Roman Catholic questioh assuredly takes its place among the renascent forms of religious opinions ; and I am persuaded had you been here, you would have undergone, in regard to it, a somewhat analogous process to that which you may now be con- scious of having undergone last winter. I am not yet conscious of all the results of my present study and ob- servations — so it would be rash to pronounce upon them ; but this I do feel more and more, that Popery is more plausible than we think it, and less easily to be confuted in detail; in short, that it shades off from true Christianity often so imperceptibly at first, that it is only when you look at the grand result you can entertain that horror of it, and bestow that condemnation on the system, which it merits. I came to Rome believing that all its more controverted errors were gross and palpable. I am daily persuaded more and more that it is not so ; and there- fore I see how difficult must be the emancipation of any one from its thraldom, and how easy, in certain cases, the re-imposition of that thraldom on those who have been bom free. Should God spare us to meet again, I shall have much to say on this score, but a letter is not the place for it 'As you conjecture, God has very graciously given me not a few friends here, after a time of loneliness, but not dulness. Mr. and Mrs. Forbes, whom we saw at Geneva, live close by me, and are most affectionate, as well as delightful people. Through them, I was introduced to :\jchdeacon Hodson and his family ; he is one of the 11 I 'A !;;! 1 f 341 Memorials of most beautiful specimens of a Christian minister I have known, so holy and so humble. He takes me occasion- ally to walk with him, as well as visiting at his house, and I love his company. * I am studying the formulaiies of the Roman Catholic Church, as well as her practice, and propose soon to begin the Catechism of the Council of Trent, and other exponents and defences of her theology. For labours, I have little apparent field, but occasionally I visit in the Ghetto, and, besides the spirit of inquiry which this excites in my own mind, may hope that tracts and con- versation will be blessed. Mr. Wingate, the Jewish missionary at Leghorn, furnished me with some tracts, etc, before coming here.' Diary. — * Sunday ^ /an. 6. — After ten, to St. Athanasia, the Greek Church, where, after long delay, saw part of very stately Greek service. The Archbishop entered, a tall dignified-looking man with flowing black beard, clad at first in purple, with gold chain round his neck, and purple veil over his head, which was soon removed. After kissing successively a picture of the Virgin and Christ, in front of the altar, and blessing the people with a triple taper in one hand, and a double in the other, to signify the Trinity and the two natures of Christ ; he took his seat upon a throne at the side, where with much reverence he was gradually robed in the sumptuous gar- ments of the altar — a crown of goid being placed upon his head. So accoutred, he received his crozier, and took his seat upon the throne, with all the dignity of a royal priest. No instrumental music ; but a full choir raised a magnificent Greek anthem, which, resounding through the comparatively small church, seemed to swell yohn Mackintosh, 343 the soul, and bear it aloft on angels' pinions. The service was now commerxced, but being unwilling again, to-day, to lose the opportunity of taking the sacrament, I quitted and repaired to the English Church ; arrived there just at the conclusion of the Litany. Although wretched from cold, swelled face, etc., enjoyed the communion very much, and think I had some real communion with God. ^Jan. 12. — At ten, to Ghetto, with intention of visiting synagogue. God seemed to lead me ; for a Jew, whom I afterwards found to be the sacristan, immediately came forward and offered to show me the schools, />., the synagogue. There are no less than five of these beneath one roof, in a square which takes its name from them, near the Piazza di Santa Maria in Pianto. Three of these are below, two above, and they correspond with five parishes into which the Ghetto is divided. The upper ones are even handsome. Opposite the pulpit in each, is a recess in the wall containing the Holy Scrip- tures, with a curtain in front and other ornaments. The walls are inscribed with texts in Hebrew ; the pulpit is large and handsome. At the door is a large marble trough, for performing ablutions before entering ; hats are worn during service, to show that outward observance is of no avail. Many of the men had short white tunics, with cords at the four corners, to symbolize the omni- presence of the Deity. A small concealed gallery above, like that for nuns in Roman Catholic churches, is apportioned to the women, who are not re(|uired to take part in public services, or even, so far as I could learn, in private devotions. The hours of service on Saturday are half-past eight, mid-day, and three o'clock. I was shown copies of the Pentateuch and their ritual, 344 Memorials of with the prayers, hymns, and selections from Scripture — on one side Hebrew, on the other Italian. I was able to have a long discussion with the sacristan, whose replies were very evasive, when I pressed him on the meaning of the ancient sacrifices. His little boys joined us — dear little Israelites, and very intelligent I made one of them read a part of a psalm, and compared my pronun- ciation with his. The little fellow was very particular to know of whom I had learnt — a Hebrew or a Gentile. ' On quitting the sacristan, who promised on a future day to take me to the schools for education, I went into one of the synagogues where mid-day service had already commenced ; seeing the Bible borne in procession to the pulpit, many kissing the trappings with which it was covered, I asked some questions of a better-class Jew standing by me. He answered in good English, and finally I found that he was used to give lessons in Hebrew to English novices — Mr. Hutcheson, for exr ample. We spoke on many points, and he told me he had already written a work against the belief that Christ had come. The New Testament he oflen read, and admired its high moral code. He offered to call on me and show me this, as well as a method he had for teaching Hebrew. At last I arranged to go to him next Tuesday evening, his time being more engrossed than mine. * After leaving him, and observing the ceremonies as well as some awisos posted on the walls, and bearing record to the recent formation of a society to secure more decorum in public worship, I left the synagogue j some young men in front arrested my attention — I put a topographical question to one of them, whose open ingenuous countenance pleased me. By degrees we got to talk of the Messiah, and here again I was able to 'John Mackintosh, 345 and me )en we to present strongly to them the difficulty of accounting for the ancient sacrifices, except as typical ot Christ the great sacrifice for sin, who should thus come first in humiliation. I alluded to Isaiah liii. ; and then, as in- deed I had said at starting, I agreed with them in look- ing for His glorious coming, to give deliverance to His people, and perhaps restore the Jews to their own land. The young men seemed to like the discussion, especially when hearing on the bright side of the pro- mises to their nation ; but fearing observation, as I sus- pect, many passing and repassing from the synagogue, they cordially pressed my hand and departed Sons of Abraham, I said to them, I love you for your fathers' sake, and, so saying, bade them adieu. ^ Jan. 17. — Hemanc and I went alone to see the Propaganda, An English student and an American re- ceived us with a kindness and courtesy unfailing among Roman Catholic clergy and students. We proceeded through the establishment, which is vast in extent, and appears to be arranged on principles of method the most consummate. The training I understood to embrace ten years, though many may come up so far prepared as to shorten the curriculum. Of these are devoted to grammar (Latin, Italian, etc.) two, Rhetoric two, and Philosophy other two. Under these heads a wide range of study is embraced. Four are then devoted to Theo- logy, where Hebrew, Church History, and the Evidences, occupy the first ; Church History, Morals, and Dogmatic, the second ; Church History, Dogmatic, and Hebrew Exegesis, the third ; Dogmatic, etc. the fourth. I saw many of their text-books, of which Palma's Church His- tory arrested my attention. The different years have catnerate^ or ranges of chambers, assigned them ; somfr- ■H It, t ■ < 346 Memorials of times, however, two years are put together, so that the camcrate vary from six to seven. The younger years are in one large hall, where each has his little dormitory at the side, and a table and bookcase in the hall. The more advanced have each their room. A prefiect pre- sides over each catneraia — one of the more advanced students in Theology. Lecturers come in to prelect on the various subjects, and, in some cases, students from other Colleges — as the Irish — are admitted to these lectures. There are two annual examinations — the last occupying more than a week — conducted in writing ; and these being all successfully passed, (priest's) orders are conferred. For D. D. a different ordeal is under- gone. The daily hours are such as these : — Rise at half-past five ; chapel at six ] breakfast at seven \ study from half-past seven to half-past eight; lectures, half- past eight ; at hall-past ten study again ; dinner at half- past eleven, preceded by a quarter of an hour's exami- nation of conscience in chapel; after dinne/, conversation and recreation for an hour ; then, one to three, study ; two hours' walk before the Ave Maria; five to eight, study ; then supper, conversation, and all to bed by ten. Thus they have nine hours' study, including lectures. The scholastic year lasts from November to August, with a few holidays interspersed, and every Thursday. In August they relax, and in September go to a country seat they have at Frascati, where they spend very happily six weeks of summer. I was introduced to Chinese, Armenians, Turks, Syrians, Africans, etc. etc. All seemed happy and united, and pervaded with courtesy. We saw the refectory, where all take meals together, substantial and plain; also some smaller libraries, but had not time on this occasion to see the John Mackintosh. 347 great library and museum. Their own libraries seemed well supplied. I made the acquaintance of two Scottish students ; who recited on Sunday, and whose hearty Highland accent and loving expression took me very much. They both invited me to come and see them, which I offered to do, informing them, of course, that I was Protestant I was anxious to know of some history of this great institution ; but none such appears to be published. Their own records are most complete. Every student who goes out as missionary must write them at least once a year, and he is answered. The Col- lege was founded by Urban viii. in 1627, and San Carlo Boromeo drew up its first rules : the wealth is very great A Jesuit, by a Papal bull, must always be its rector. ^Jan. 19. — At nine Archdeacon Hodson called, and we went together to the Jewish synagogue, after look- ing through their different schools in the Catalonian, where Mr. Consolo had trysted me. A very fine-looking Rabbi fi"om Jerusalem, was present in Rabbinical vestments. The law and the prophets chanted. Some psalms well sung by all present, and prayers, during which all turned towards Jerusalem. The decorum greater than I expected. Many venerable men were there, and all respectable-looking. Wore white scarf, with fringe attached to Jewish dress, according to Numbers xv., but since their dispersion it is transferred to the robe of service. As the Bible was borne in pro- cession to the tabernacle, all kissed the cloth which enveloped it during its passage. At the close of the service the leaders placed the younger, and the younger their juniors, laying their hands on their head, and after kissing their hands. The Hebrew Bibles were mostly printed in London. After the service we went to look m % •fi 'Mk I; " 348 Memorials of I ;h at the portico of Octavia and theatre of Marcellus under the Ghetto. Then returned with Mr. Console to a house in the street bordering the Tiber, where the rite of circumcision was to be performed. After much chant- ing in the room where the mother and infant lay, or rather sat up, in bed, and many males and females were assembled, the infant was brought to a cushion near the window, supported on the knees of two young men. The painful rite was then performed, the infant appa- rently being slightly drugged to prevent excess of suffer- ing. The instruments were simple. The name of Hezekiah Reuben was then given, and a short prayer read by an attendant Rabbi. The whole service brought vividly to mind many deeply interesting circumstances of Scripture connected with this rite as well as Christian analogies. On leaving, bon bom were offered us. The friends had a slight collation. * Sunday, Feb. 3. — Forenoon, sacrament Good even- ing, and formed many resolutions of diligence, but espe- cially of a life more entirely surrendced to the will and service of God, and the love and good of my fellows j for all which, O Lord, my sufficiency is in Thee. ^ Feb. 15. — Evening; finished Arnold's Journals of tours. Heavenly Father, enable me to live more en- tirely for Thee and for my neighbour. I feel deeply how vain is any knowledge or attainment, in comparison with love that goes out in ber.evolence and well-doing. *Feb. 18. — An Irish farmer, whom I had formerly met, overtook me at the Arch of Gallienus, walking home to his farm, about five miles off on the same road j heat very great, and dust, but air and sky delicious ; he talked of farming, Ireland, etc. We passed the Mauso- leum of Helena, and finally parted within sight of his yohn Mackintosh, 349 farm, belonging to the Prince Borghese, an oasis in the Campagna, an old tower amid a clump of pines. No> thing could exceed the glorious splendour of the view. The Alban hiili seemed close at hand, and I could con- verse with Cicero at Tusculum. Praeneste and the Tivoli line equally beautifuL The aqueducts and the Campagna — a poem grander than was ever sung. I lay down and surrendered myself to the ecstasy of the day and scene. Roman history appeared a reality ; its wars, its camps, its soldiers, its men of eloiiuence and letters, its majestic province of "to conquer." The Roman lines of Virgil on this, occurred to me as containing the essence of her destiny, and given in words whose very sound testifies to their spirit Above me, the merry lark shouted, and by its shout increased the melancholy ; troops of crows croaked of centuries gone by. With difficulty I turned my face once more towards home. ''Feb. 21. — Morning to meet Mr. Chapman; then at eleven sermon at St. Carlo ; at twelve, home, and studied Dante ; at two, the Forum ; studied ruins at base of Capitol. I wandered through the Convent of Ara Coeli, the site as I should think of the Arx, and a high posi- tion in the northern portion. Home by Coliseum ; at six, dined with Major Inglis, and very pleasant evening. The dear Baillie-Frasers there \ escorted them home late. He r -minds me in appearance, habits, and other associations, most touchingly of my father. The Lord bless him for this resemblance ! ^ Feb. 24. — At two to San Andrea, where listened to catechizing ; much shocked at want of order among the boys, and want of reverence in treating the sacred sub- jects alike on part of boys and priests. How different from our own dear Sabbath-schools! He first ques- tioned them on the Incarnation, then on the Trinity in .^aj %. % t> ^" -^^ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 11140 l^ll^ 1125 S IIIIIM "^ m Hi 12.2 2.0 1.8 1.25 1.4 1.6 -^ 6" - ► V). ^ /a 7. 0>4 y M Photographic Sciences Corporation ,\ iV % v ■1>^ :\ \ 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 m ^ -^^ O ^ C'x r ^ I # 350 Memorials of Unity, then on the Sacraments, tempting them to an- swer with promise of bajocchi. One boy was asked the meaning of a mystery, and if, e.g.^ there was any mystery in a scudo. I understood him to reply, " No, for there were never three sciidi in one;" at which the priest was so highly tickled, that he rewarded him on the spot. He asked them which was the most import- ant sacrament, to which different answers were returned ; but he admitted baptism, because it was the door to all the rest. Tran substantiation was broadly explained to them ; and then he asked if any one could effect this change by repeating the necessary prayer. Could an Emperor, could the blessed Mary ?— no, only the priest. Who instituted the Seven Sacraments? Was it the pretacci'i — ^no, Christ Himself. How many characters could they have % — two, for the living and the dead (of this last I am not quite sure). He frequently appealed to me, and blamed the boys much for their pertness and bad behaviour. When concluded, he came to me, and asked if I was Protestant or Catholic, and seemed a little staggered at my telling him the former. The ser- vice concluded with the Litany to the Virgin. He asked me how I was pleased ; I replied I should have been more so had it been a prayer to Christ. " But who gave Him birth 1 " he asked ; " do you not believe in her eternal purity 1 " I replied, " Only in a sense." " But the Supreme Pontiff has lately declared it, and all he says ex cathedrd he says with the Spirit, and is there- fore infallible." To this I demurred. " Ah ! " said he, " Melanchthon, great Melanchthon, introduced many heresies ', " and then he proceeded to assert that a dis- like to the restraints of the Church on the subject of marriage, etc., was at the bottom of his opposition. He was an undignified^ vulgar little man, though brisk. yohn Mackintosh, 351 One little fellow, brought into his class by his nurse, immediately knelt before him, and folded his hands. He laughed heartily, and raised him up, saying : " What 1 my boy, do you take me for the Pope ? " On going out, boys, nurses, etc., came up and kissed his hand. An urchin did the same to me two days ago, as I was standing in the Forum, taking me, his mother said, for a priest or teacher ! At seven to Baillie-Frasers, and accompanied them and party to see statues in the Vatican by torchlight. About a dozen wax candles were ignited in a bracket, and fastened in a sort of reflecting lantern. The effect was magnificent, and I cannot describe the grandeur and mystery of the endless gallery through which we ranged. We thus spent two hours seeing the Laocoon, Apollo, Minerva, Her- cules, etc. * Monday, Feb. 25. — To Museum of Capitol, and studied lower room. My special trial is, that, loving solitude, I seem nowhere and seldom to find it. I feel, however, that this discipline of having to renounce my own way, is more useful than probably all the thoughts and reflections that solitude might breed. I therefore at times can bless God for the trial, and desire to have my will merged in His more habitually. The Greek basso relievos, and the old fresco paintings int'^ rested, delighted me exceedingly; home by the Esquiline and the sweet grove there, attached, I believe, to the Con- vent of St. Francesco e Paolo, where all the birds of Rome seem to unite for their evening song. Evening, read Dante, Gell, and prepared for tour to country of the -^neid to-morrow, starting (d.v.) by steamer for Ostia afcsix A.M. My Father, shield me from all danger, and bless it to me in body and mind. M I'tl ii'.'il m w 35^ Memorials CHAPTER XI\ Tour to the country of the .Sneid — Church and Convent of St Onufrir- — Visit to the CoUegio Romano — Raphael's Picture of the Trans- figuration — ^The Jews — Love of Truth — Last Letter from Rome- Tour to Naples : Vesuvius — Baia — Puzzuoli — Sorrento — ^A Sabbath at the Monastery of Monte Casino— Sudden Attack of Illness- Leaves Rome. * Wednesday^ Feb. 27 . — The banks of the Tiber are now bare enough, with here and there glades of wood ; yet I enjoyed the sail profoundly, from its associations, and read some of the iEneid, which I carried in my pocket. * Ostia stands some two miles inland. The traces of ruins were abundant, standing up among the sprouting com, whose very soil is formed by their mouldering. One temple still remains in considerable preservation, with quantities of marble slabs, and capitals scattered round. The sight was affecting. A castle and very small hamlet attached, constitutes the whole of modern Ostia. The woods between this and the mouth of the river looked most attractive beneath the glowing sky, and might have been such as Virgil has described in the landing of the Trojans. *From Ostia, I made for Castel Fusano — a villa be- longing to the Chigi family, and embedded in a delicious forest of pines, and other stately trees. Passing the mansion, I followed a road to the coast, as Torre Patemo, the next object of my search, lay upon the beach, and could be more certainly found in this man- ner. Nothing could exceed the beauty of the Mediter- .3 ' '' ' i. yohn Mackintosh* 353 ranean, or my joy in walking along so close that its billows laved my feet. Some six miles brought me to the ancient tower, attached to a farm-house, which is supposed to mark the site of the ancient Laurentium. A coast-guard station is also here; and finding the deputy superintending a group of picturesque fishermen, who were landing their nets, I was conducted by him to the farm-house, and there entertained most hospitably on bread, wine, eggs, and cheese, for which all remunera- tion was steadfastly refused by the worthy farmer. * From this point, Pratica was visible at the distance of some seven miles, standing on a commanding emin- ence and separated from us by a macchia or copse forest. Knowing the difficulty of finding a path through such a country, I again took the beach, being assured that when about four miles on, at a ruined castle of the Borghese, 1 should find a road leading straight to Pratica. Night was closing in, and the sun had just set, when I reached this tower. The next coast-guard tower, to which I had also been recommended as a shelter for the night, appeared in sight ; but I resolved to try and make for Pratica. After wandering long through the forest, following uncertain paths, and at length commg upon an extensive marsh, I thought it prudent to retrace my steps, if possible ; and, guided by the noise of the sea, succeeded, to my great joy, in regaining its shores. I then pushed on by the solemn star-light until I reached the tower, just as the moon way rising in the east. I entered and explained my wishes. The deputy, with his wife and family crowded into two little rooms, could do little for my lodging, but the corporal and his soldiers agreed to give me one In tlieii barrack. Meanwhile, the worthy couple made r' ■ f 354 Memorials of me welcome to what supper they had — eggs, bread, wine, sausage almonds — so that I came off pretty well. The conversation flowed pleasantly and freely, and in due time I retired. * Thursday, Feb. 28. — My bed was one of three in the soldiers' barrack-room. Clean sheets were spread on it; but ere five minutes elapsed, I was attacked by legions. The situation was not pleasant, and being in the room with others, I could not be so free in my move- ments ; however, the greater part of the night I sat by my bedside in great agony, and occasionally lay down upon it in greater. Towards five in the morning I ascended to the top of the tower, and there sat down enjoying the balmy air — the moonlight on the water, and the dim expanse of country so renowned in ancient story. At daybreak I washed, and was regaled by my hostess with some famous coffee ; for which, as for last night's entertainment, all remuneration was refused. Then bade them farewell, gave the soldier a trifle, and took the road for Pratica. ' ^ '•' ' * Nothing could exceed the beauty of the lawns and woods, gilded by the morning light, and fresh with dew that spread along this coast, and extended upwards to- wards Pratica. Situated on its eminence, it was easily made for. A ravine on either side, richly cultivated, forms a tongue of land, on part of which stands the present village — some few filthy houses surmounted by a tower and castle, belonging to the Prince Borghese. The ancient town must have covered all this previously. I skirted the town, and descended into the ravine, which meets another also richly wooded, and which, at right angles to the former, stretches beautifully to the sea. Leaving this Lavinium — the grandmother so to yohn Mackintosh* ZSS speak of Rome — I directed my steps towards Ardea, passing through some pleasant watered valleys, making iny seven miles nine by a needless detour. On the way I rested at a grand butter-dairy, belonging to the Prince Cesarini, where the milk of some thousand cows is churned and sent to Rome. Ardea, which I also latterly approached by the Roman road, is very strik- ingly situated on a bold rocky hill, with a ravine on either side, and connected with the high ground behind by a narrow isthmus, so as to be rather a peninsula than an island. In general appearance it was not unlike the Aventine. It is still walled all round, and I should think, the walls were of some antiquity ; though a priest assured me this was not really the ancient Ardea. Be this as it may, the situation as corresponding with the name, is very striking. The modem little town covers little of the enclosed space. The view of the Alban hills was unspeakably touching and attractive; for so they must have appeared in ancient days, when the Roman army lay in siege before it, on the eve of the expulsion of Superbus, and afterwards when it became the scene of many deeds of prowess. But, of course, Tumus and his Rutuli were here chiefly present to my mind. 'From Ardea I followed an excellent road to the shore, which I reached at Forte Lorenzo, consequently about twelve miles from Porto d'Anzio. I again had some bread and wine at a large dairy establishment, where they make frutto di latte out of buffalo's milk — it is also for the Roman market. Following the coast, I could not resist the pleasure of bathing in the smiling waters. This on the last day of February, and how delicious ! I then pursued my solitary way, until towards sunset; I passed another fort — the last that 1'" , I "f ! \ , I .*- 35^ Memorials of separated me from Porto d'Anzio. The coast here began to present a rocky appearance, instead of the usual sand-line that separated it from the fields. Long after dusk, when I thought I should now be near my haven, but saw no lights, my course was suddenly interrupted by the sea coming close up to the base of the rocks, and dashing against them and their toppled boulders. As I was unable to scale the cliffs, and trusted in the dark this interruption might only be casual, owing to high water, I took off my boots, and boldly walked in. "^oon, however, the water reached my waist; it was necessary to hold my coat in the air to keep its pocket- fuls dry, and I stumbled over the rocks, and got into holes not a little alarming. I had already proceeded a good way ; but thought it prudent to return, which I did with difficulty. Then putting on my shoes, and shivering with wet and cold, retraced my steps, very thankful that I had come by no more than a ducking in my rashness. *The thoughts of Porto d'Anzio — a good inn, food and sleep, were gradually receding from my vision, when I espied a point where I thought the rocks might be scaled. I attempted and succeeded, and found myself immediately on a delicious sward, without macchia or underwood, and so paced on rapidly in the right direc- tion. Soon the welcome lights gleamed before me. I passed a cottage whence voices proceeded, and, on entering, found a party of young vine-dressers gathered near a blazing fire, and making their evening meal on a hxgQ polenta cake to which they invited me. The most grateful news was that Porto d'Anzio was close at hand, and one of them accompanied me, and set me on the track. Nothing has struck me more than the superi- ority of character on this coast to what I have hitherto yohn Mackintosh. 357 met in the beaten road of the Roman States. As I de- scended on Porto d'Anzio, the effect was magical. A light gleamed at the extremity of the modem harbour ; directly opposite was what at first appeared a magnifi- cent Bude light, and for such I took it ; until its slow ascent and silver sheen upon the waters revealed the queen of heaven, thus lowered for a moment to hold fellowship with earth. * The first person I accosted was mine host, other- wise Neapolitan consul, who conducted me to his superb hotel, whilome the Palazzo Albano ; had there a cheer- ful fire kindled in the splendid hall, sent me dry clothes and ordered supper, during the preparation of which I regaled myself on the balcony, gazing on the sea heav- ing its quiet murmur, interrupted for a time by the Mal- tese hymn, chanted by some fishermen, ere they retired to rest. The stillness, the beauty, the poetry of the scene can never be effaced, while all that made Antium famous in days of yore passed before my mind, and my thoughts ended with those grander themes, that the moon, and the stars, and the ocean awaken, as forming a link to us with the invisible world. * I retired to a comfortable bed, with feelings of love and gratitude incommunicable. ^Friday, March i. — After breakfast sallied forth to hunt for ruins, if such there were. Realized very vividly the famous events which happened here — the rostra captured from the ships and carried to the Forum — the flight and afterwards death of Coriolanus, and more re- cently the birth and residence of Nero. I thought I could make out the probable precincts ot the fortifica- tions. On following it to the rocky coast, I came upon vast fragments and remains of walls and palaces, caves 35^ Memorials of \ and brickwork, in many places fallen entire into the sea. On one spot, near the present port, marble pillars, capi- tals, and pavements had been laid open, telling of some temple or imperial palace. The mole of Nero is still very entire ; and indeed the present quay seems to stand on another mole or breakwater equally ancient The chapel, and greater part of the houses of the present port, stand on this. The views over the sea, of Ischia in the distance; nearer, Monte Felice, the old pro- montory of Circe, behind which is Gaeta; the lofty continuation of the Apennines, not visible from Rome, with the Pontine marshes between them and the sea ; Nettuno on its striking knoll, about a mile along the coast from Porto d'Anzio ; all these objects were lovely and delightful. *At four o'clock I set oflF for a twenty-two miles' walk, over an unknown country to an unknown town — the evening was lovely. My way ascended through a long macchiay and so continued until night closed in. My thoughts were all the while actively and happily employed. At long intervals I would pass a hamlet; the night air made walking easy, and the stars were never-failing company and food for meditation. Several times, as I advanced on my path, I made inquiries at the cottages, exciting in them much alarm, till I was seen; and then being dismissed with a warning against the numerous robbers in the country. How- ever, I felt no fear. * My pleasure, these past days, and the way in which I have been allowed to achieve my plan, without accident or interruption, filled my heart with gratitude, and I was now lying down to sleep not far from the site of Alba Longa. hull yohn Mackintosh, 359 * Saturday, March 2. — After breakfast walked through town, and ascended to Albano Lake, about half a mile off. Its beauty charmed me, with Monte Cari over- hanging ; Rocca del Papa on its farther side, and Castel Gandolfo on this. The russet tinge of the still bewintered trees had a fine effect, and altogether I thought I had seen nothing yet so thoroughly Italian. Read Virgil by banks of lake ; then by Castel Gandolfo to Appian Way, which I traced back to Rome — a dis- tance of about eleven miles. At the Albano end, some portions of the side parapets were very entire ; the monuments, more than a hundred in number, lined the whole road. Towards dark I once more entered Rome —very weary, but very grateful and happy. * March 9. — At three, to the church and convent of St Onufrio, beautifully .situated on one of the highest points of the Janiculum. In the church Tasso is buried, and there is a simple inscription. The room where he died is also shown, and many relics, chair, writing-stand, girdle, autograph, letter and crucifix ; a mirror, and an exact cast of his head after death. In the garden, which commands a magnificent view of Rome, stands the trunk of a superb oak called Tasso's, but which was blown down by a hurricane in 1842. Tasso was fifty when he died here in April 1595, after having been fifteen days in the convent. ^Saturday, March 16. — Good view of Ghetto from the island. The current of the river breaks against the houses, whose appearance is most squalid. Some Jewish children were playing in a sort of verandah high up over the river, and many females were visible at the windows. How diffierent this from the lakes, and mountains, and jpleasant .vallejs of Palestine* where they might be r i < Mi ; Of 360 Memorials of inhabiting beneath a delicious sky, and amid fresh odoriferous breezes ! Lord, hasten their return, for the fathers' sake, for Thy dear Son's sake, for the Church's sake ! ^ March 20. — Went to the Collegio Romano, and heard a lecture on dogmatic theology, the subject being the irresistibility of God's will denied, against the Calvinists. He adduced repeated instances from Old Testamen: to prove how God's will in certain points was averted by man's sin. Then met the texts of the Calvinists as in Romans ix., where he found Calvin guilty of misinterpretation : " who hath resisted His will" was said, he declared, not by the apostle, but by his adversary. (Surely Calvin does not rest one of his proofs on this.) The lecture was in good Latin, and spoken without notes and with great fluency, even rising to impassioned vehemence. The Professor was Pas- saglia, a very intellectual, dark, shrewd-looking man. The audience, composed of students from various col- leges, numbered about sixty, generally of intelligent appearance. After the lecture many remained to argue the subject among themselves. '■March 22. — Went at eight morning to hear thesis disputed at Collegio Romano. The student occupied the pulpit, a professor presiding at his side, while some professors and dignitaries sat in front on either side between the pulpit and the disputants. The thesis being read out, one of the disputants started his argu- ments against it, while the other had to refute them, supporting the thesis. In this he was copiously assisted by the presiding professor, for otherwise he would have fared ill. The first subject, in reference to the necessity of grace, or the supernatural aid pf the Spirit of God in fresh I, for and and ir thesis cupied some side thesis argu- them, ssisted have cessity od in yo/m Mackintosh, 361 conversion, holy living, and perseverance. The second was or e nature and essence of God, whether our knowledti,o of Him is immediate or deductive. Lastly, but for this I did not wait, was disputed the right of the Church to an independent jurisdiction. The various heads of the separate theses were most interesting, though not at all taken up, and I tried to procure a copy of the whole. The students did well, but not remarkably. * To the Picture Gallery ; and, oh ! the Transfigura- tion! I found it impossible not to weep, having never read one word about it, but just surrenderirtg myself to its own effect. Our Lord's figure — how sublime! — what serenity, what peace, what a heaven about Him, in Him ! what graciousness and benignity ! I have seen no conception more satisfactory ; not, how- ever, that it is so, by any means. Moses and Elias are pretty good as to conception ; two others, on the Mount, I could not explain, till I find that they are a base com- pliance with the selfish wish of some cardinal — a patron of the fine arts, and man of taste forsooth ! The apostles are excellent, and characteristic. The scene below, for contrast and effect, inimitable. Of course it is strictly true to the Scripture account, and literally taken from it, though Lanzi and others look upon it as a happy idea of Raphael's, and wholly misinterpret it. The friends of the possessed are disappointed and indignant that the disciples cannot cure their child. The apostles them- selves are surprised and vexed at their failure. The father's countenance eagerly expresses this, and so ^o theirs — according to the narrative — "Lord, why could not we cast him out?" The possessed child is admir- ably done; and the countenances, expression, colouring, T- i : scenes of beauty in that magnificent land. His Journal is full of expressions of the delight he experienced during these excursions. * Apn/ 30. — (Vesuvius.) — I pushed on for Assina, and then took the hill, the way lying at first among rich vineyards. I was dunned by guides wishing to accom- pany me. One fellow actually stuck to me, bargaining for carlini or a bottelea as far as the Hermitage. I found the only plan was to take no earthly notice of him. The heat was very great Crossed a vast sheet -:. sJ a 'm -.Ills i 37^ Memorials of or avalanche of lava, which bears direct from the summit to Portici or Herculaneum. I reached the hermitage at 12.30, and found my party had been there an hour before. The lunch was spread in the garden. Mr. Rodewald and I set off immediately for the ascent, and taking ponies. The tug began at the base of the cone. I long stoutly refused the aid of a rope, which is held while th€*guide goes before. To force me into submis- sion, however, I think they kept longer on the yielding soil than was necessary, and I was obliged to give in. Soon, however, we got upon the edge of the lava current, but I noticed lower down the task was com- paratively easy. Poor Mr. Rodewald required much persuasion to proceed, and was finally borne upon the shoulders of the guides. We reached the top ere I thought we were half way up, and amid the flying mists. Its appearance disappointed me. A few steps brought us to the lip of the crater, whence at intervals we got a glimpse down some hundred feet or more into the black- ness and smoke and wizened rocks that line it The smell of sulphur was stifling. Ever and anon the wind blew gusts of smoke and heated air into our faces and nostrils. All the rocks were crusted with red and yel- low, while smoke and steam issued at every pore. After all, however, I was not awed. I do not know why ; but our feelings are often unaccountable. The view over the vale beneath towards Pompeii was fine, and the progress and termination of the last lava stream striking, * Wednesday^ May i. — Baiae bewitched me ; it was now evening, and the mellow air, the still sea, the noble panorama of the Sorrento hills, with Vesuvius opposite, overtopping the promontory of Posilipo, Puzzuoli in yohn Mackintosh, yiz the foreground — all soothed, moved, and filled me with delight. I sat long on the terrace of the Uttle inn, quaff- ing a delicious wine of Ischia, which they are pleased to call Falemian, aud surrendering myself to the spirit of the place. I even made inquiries if I could spend the night there, although the morrow had its own work to look after. Finally, however, I tore myself away, having seen the various temples and ruins ; but not Misenum, nor the several objects of antiquity that lie beyond Baiae. Non omnes omnia possunt At about half-past six I took the road for Puzzuoli, still spell-bound ; passed the Lucrine lake, separated from the sea as of old by embankments, and consecrated to fish, if not to oyster- beds. Ere I reached Puzzuoli it was dark, and the lights that glimmered on sea and coast, the peasants returning from their toil, the occasional peal of bells, made me little regret the darkness. At Puzzuoli I got a car, and while it was making ready, swallowed some eggs and macaroni — my only diet since breakfast ; then home by half-past nine again, traversing the tunnel, instead of the road by the promontory, which, had it been day-time, I should have done. My mistake has been in starting too late, considering the heat of the day. I have omitted some things which I should have seen ; and had no time to read, on the spot, St Paul's landing at Puteoli, and Virgil's panegyric on the harbour and lake, which yet were fresh in my memory. Nevertheless, I mark the day with a mark of the whitest chalk, and should I wish it, never never could forget its deep profound enjoyment ! ' In a small pocket memorandum-book I found written in pencil the following diary : — * Sorrento t Sunday ^ May 5. — My former memorandum- B Su'-M 374 Memorials of book, hallowed by many entries at places of note or beauty, from Geddes to Florence, was, alas ! stolen from me at Rome November last. Since then I have had no heart to begin another. I felt it like the loss of a child. Ostia, Lavinium, Ardea, Antium, Veii, are thus names which shall never in after years awaken recollections from memoranda made on the spot, any more than the top of the hill of Urchany, that memorable June — Champel, Zurich, or a hundred other holy places. * Sorrento awakens once more the long silent emotions of my heart I yearned for a Sunday here, and have found it all I could desire. The sweet peace of this morning ; the melody of church bells issuing on all sides from the midst of orange groves ; the view opposite of Naples, and its Camaldoli, Vesuvius to the right, Miseno, Baise, and Ischia to the left, Posilipo, and possibly Puteoli, where Paul landed — all these are pleasant to the eye, suggestive to the mind. My thoughts have realized more powerfully than usual past times of Roman history; but chiefly has the mellow air and the warm sunshine carried them back to the time of youth and childhood, awakening within me gratitude and love, and replenish- ing the heart with those living waters, without which what is life 1 * I write this on a terrace, on which my window opens. I am all alone in a very cleanly, even elegant, yet un- pampered hotel, where great lords and great signors do not appear to come ; and therefore there is moderation arri contentment O for the certainty — I have the pre- sentiment and the desire — that all I now see and do may conduce to my usefulness in the Lord's vineyard. My Saviour ! lead me ; and whatever comes from Thy hand must be good.' yohn Mackintosh, Z1S On the loth of May he left Naples, along with his friend Mr. Gordon, to return again on foot to Rome. They had both reached the Benedictine Monastery of Monte Casino, where they spent a quiet and happy Sabbath. ^ Sunday y May 12. — Sweet sleep and gracious quiet. Retired for short time, and at twelve were summoned to dinner in the common hall — a large bleak one, where the whole household were assembled. Padre Caravita and we had a separate little table. The dinner was plain but substantial; the Fathers certainly a more refined and intellectual order than one generally sees. After dinner our padre took us to the cafe or lounge of the good monks, conducting to a terrace over the entrance- court, which they call the Paradise, from the fineness of its view westward and southward. Monte Cairo snow- clad on the right; the Liris slowly winding to the south-west After coffee, a walk here and conversation. Mr. Gordon and I then set off for a Sunday stroll. A delicious walk conducted us to what appeared to have been a smaller convent Here, alas 1 after we had read some of Keble, etc., the rain came on ; and we were fain, after waiting some time under shelter, to make our way back to the convent Vespers were by this time just concluded (half-past three), and our host invited us to hear one of the Fathers — a Spaniard — perform on the organ. His selection of airs was unfortunate : Norma, and two or three profane street tunes usually played with the accompaniment of monkeys. *The archives, as it were below the convent, next awaited us. Here we saw some very ancient ms. bulls, etc., and the strangers' books, in which we inscribed our names. A separate one is kept for distinguished visitors, ' A1 Wk j«U|i III w 1 I 2^7^ Memorials of of wht in Newman was the fifst recorded. Accompanying the autograph he expressed his joy at having been per- mitted to visit Monte Casino, and entreated the prayers of the convent, from which England had of old drawn so largely, in behalf of his countrymen— ;7'(at/« ex hceresi expergiscentibus. The fine hand and beautiful latinity were most characteristic ; the confidence of the tone displeased me. * Supper rather lighter than dinner ; finally we retired, and in our room bade farewell to our most obliging and courteous host, who kindly wrote his name in our memo- randum-books, and undertook to distribute a certain donation we made for the poor. * Before our last interruption we enjoyed the evening service together, and now closed the day with prayer.' It was next day, while pursuing their journey, that John Mackintosh received his death-wound. ^ Monday y May 13. — Rose betimes, and as soon as we could get breakfast, started ; reached Ceprano road by romantic path — day lovely, but very warm. About six miles on, saw Aquino to the left At other three, reached the apparently excellent inn of Amalfi, and rested ; then made for Arce — a distance of five miles more. Here our passports were viskd^ being the last station fi:om Naples, and we reposed. * After a violent thunder-storm, took the road for Arpino, to the right This led us up a beautiful ascent with charming prospects behind as well as before, many of which recalled home, and made me speculate with in- tense joy on my possibly soon meeting with my mother. After some five or six miles, the main road descended towards the left to Sora ; that to the right ascended to Arpino,, At this point my strength greatly failed me, It! i- yohn Mackintosh, 377 owing probably to the broiling of tlie morning which had excited my bile, and walking became most burdensome. I pushed on, however, some three miles farther, my mouth parched with thirst, until, getting sight of Arpino near and yet high up, and approached by long windings, I cried a halt We read together Keble's Ode on Romans viii., in most appropriate circumstances of natural beauty; then resumed our way. The town seemed to possess many better-class houses, and we met people quite answering to this description, yet all asserted we should find no inn. On reaching the town I com- menced to spit blood ; a symptom which, accompanied with my great weariness and debility, alarmed me not a little. Our inquiries for an inn were painful, and the result far from tempting — a dismal little room where we were to have a bed between us, and strangers in the other. All efforts to better ourselves proved vain. Some warm coffee, in a better-class cafe^ revived me, and we proceeded to our dungeon. Here, however, I ex- perienced the rich goodness of the Lord, as I cannot but think. Being too weak, and not wishing dinner, I let Mr. Gordon, who was fresh and hearty, make all arrange- ments, while I lay on the lop of the bed, thinking sweetly of God in Christ, and seeking grace to resign myself to His will, should he see fit to leave me an invalid ere having put my hand to the plough, and watched my dear mother to her home.* In a letter written in Rome to his friend. Professor Forbes, he thus describes his illness, in the same quiet and peaceful manner : — * The day had been very hot ; and, about three miles from Arpino, I quite suddenly felt not my limbs but my whole physical strength failing me. In fact, my in- ^WlroTr! Ill Z7^ Memorials of i I cessant cough had quite deranged my organs, and just on entering the town, I began to spit blood pretty freely, which made me think it time to use caution. No kindly hand awaited us, although the town is most substantial and thriving, through its cloth works. Nevertheless, in a most miserable tenement, we passed the night peace- fully, if not sleepfuUy, as I lay awake thinking that if I should have invalided myself before ever putting my hand to my profession, it would be a hard trial, however innocently I had brought it on myself. Next morning, we followed a lovely road of five miles to Isola, in the valley below, and once more in the highway to Sora,' etc. ', and then he proceeds to narrate the rest of his journey without any further allusion to his health. To his own account of this disastrous day let me add the account kindly given by his fellow-traveller : — * I think I must now be writing within a week of the anniversary of that last day's journey together, on which we reached the old city of Arpino. It was a lovely evening, when towards the close of our long day's march, we sat down on the bridge at the foot of the hill, by climbing which you ascend to the ancient birthplace of Cicero and Marius. The scene was very charming; and I well remember taking from my pocket a copy of Keble's Christian Year — a volume my poor friend was greatly fond of, and we read as we sat there one or two of our favourite hymns. * I particularly recollect how he enjoyed that — ^for the fourth Sunday after Trinity — upon " The earnest expecta- tion of the creature waiteth for the manifestation of the sons of God," etc. etc. As I think of the hymn now, it seems just such as his mind would have been particularly likely to have sympathized with, and I remember his ?p.; *John Mackintosh 379 saying, as we rose up to renew our walk, that he should never turn to it again without calling to mind the circum- stances under which we then had read and talked about it. I suppose it must only have been a few minutes after this, that a bad cough was succeeded by haemo- rrhage, which continued slightly through that evening, and made it seem unadvisable that he should prosecute any further the journey on foot He was more alarmed, I think, than I was; but no thought about himself altered at all that accustomed unselfishness which always made him aim to give me, who was professedly the weaker of the two, every advantage that could be in our lodging arrangement, etc. That night, unfortunately, was the only occasion on which these were so rude as to be really uncomfortable. We had together to share the same bedroom with a peasant and his son, and there was little enough to meet the case of one who felt as he did — ill and anxious ; but he was just as contented and well satisfied as ever. We parted, to my great regret, next day ; having procured a horse which took him at a foot's pace to the high road from Naples, where he joined a Diligence which brought him soon on to Rome, where he could at once have medical advice. I did not arrive there till some days later, travelling a less direct road on foot. My first care, when I reached Rome, was naturally to find out my friend ; and I was gratified to find him, though rather weak, likely to be as well as ever in a few days' time ; and when I finally bade him good-bye, as he started at the end, I think, of less than a week for the north-east coast of Italy, I never entertained any alarm about further consequences.' On his arrival at Rome he consulted a well-known physician, who examined him with his stethoscope, lli' m n J 38o Memorials of and pronounced *all sound,' though he himself felt *the pain in his side and right lung unabated 1' His physician, however, permitted him to go out; and, in a few days afterwards, advised him to leave Rome for Germany. ^ May 19. — O Lord, I am Thine, and to Thy care I commit health and all my future movements, assured of Thy unmerited love and gentleness 1* Having made the necessary preparations for his depar- ture, bidding farewell to his friends, and visiting once more some of his favourite haunts, on May 23d, 'left Rome,* he says, * as I entered, by the Porta del Popolo; full of many thoughts — ^my feelings on entering — the interval — the future I John Mackintosh, 381 CHAPTER XV. Journey fitrni Rome to Tflt>*ngen — ^Letter to Professor Forbes from Ravenna — Letter to his Sister, Lady Gordon Cumming, from Venice —Verses : Adieu to Venice 1 — Letter to Mr. Bum Mturdoch from Verona — Feelings on leaving Italy. Leaving Rome, * with many feelings, many thoughts,* he journeyed northward, crossing Italy to Loretto, and thence along the shore of the Adriatic, by Rimini, Ra- venna, Ferrara, and Rovigo, to Venice his first halting- place. He travelled vetturinoj and, though suffering terribly from cough and weakness, he enjoyed the scenery, and visited the more remarkable sights with unflagging interest, in the several towns through which he passed; making the most of his travelling com- panions, and trying to make them happy and to do them good. *May 26. — On my way to Perugia I had as my companion a young priest — a most amiable and delightful fellow. Some religious conversation and pleasant thought * May 27. — Started at six — glorious morning, and drive superb. Such softness and grandeur, united with that exquisite boyhood of all nature ! At Tolentino had a long discourse with an Italian, upon how children should be trained to truth and piety — ^how happiness could never be enjoyed by a people without domestic idrtues — ^how this social and family life was in many rn 382 Memorials of respects independent of the political condition, and dependent mainly on religion — the love and fear of God in Christ Two families gathered round us, and all seemed interested. He wished to throw the whole blame of the dispeace he felt, on the political state of the country and on the priests ; I avoided condemning either, wishing him to see how, as matters stood, there was a remedy ; but I tried to kindle in them all a thirst to possess the Word of God in their native tongue, to be daily a lamp to their feet and a light to their path ; they then left me, and I slept Just before we started at three, he came back, and wrote out for me the life of a poet of Macerata, thanking me for the principles I had expounded to him. * Macerata by half-past six, where I caught my first sight of the blue Adriatic. I am struck by the supe- riority of the towns, and generally of the people of the Papal States on this side the Apennines, over those of the other. The towns are so clean — have such an air of being lately built or rebuilt — and tenanted by a large gentry, and even an aristocratic class of their own ; the manners of the people are so good, and they seem so industrious, and the fielr' are so admirably tilled. Writing this journal, as I do, at Ravenna, I apply these remarks to all the succeeding route. How can the people be discontented or miserable, asks the passing traveller, when from every inquiry which he makes about provisions, he finds they are amazingly abundant and cheap ? ^May 28. — At Loretto, my cough and chest oppress- ing me Saw the holy cottage, said to belong to Joseph and Mary, where our Lord spent His youth, and which has been brought here miraculously V yohn Mackintosh. 383 TO PROFESSOR FORBES. * Ravenna, yune^, 185a * My very dear Sir, — I must throw myself upon your indulgence. You know there is no one of my own sex on earth I love more. Be that enough. I will show you by and by how it comes that 1 have allowed so long a breach in my correspondence. Well then, all winter I was constantly studying busily the language, and a multitude of other subjects, with no temptations, from the severity of the weather, to stir abroad. On the ist April I proceeded to move towards Naples, and then thought I should have something to recount, perhaps in- cluding a description of the coquettish Subiaco. *I started from Rome on the 15th April, having remained so long to witness the Pope's entry and recep- tion, in my opinion a very frigid one ; but the illumina- tion of the dark city, was fine, and so was the pageant. Your friends, as you have probably heard, remained till about the same time, then left for Palermo. I experi- enced their parental kindness to the last. I must mention here that the last week of February, to celebrate the anniversary of the Chamouni expedition last year, I set off one morning m a small Tiber steamer for Fiu- micino, crossed the island of the Tiber to Ostia, and mused among its ruins. Made next for Castel Fusana, a valley of Prince Chiji's, which I followed till I arrived at Torrepaterno.' After generally narrating those tours with which the reader is sufficiently acquainted, and also giving the account of his illness (as already quoted at p. 377), with the subsequent events of his journey, he goes on to say — * I crossed the Colfiorito, where there are snow-posts as in Scotland, and reached the point where the streams :/ ^' Ll I 384 Memorials of begin to flow towards the Adriatic. This pass and the descent to Tolentino is really beautiful * At Macerata we passed a night, and next night, and next day reached Loretto and Ancona. The house at Loretto enabled me at least to realize the great fact of " The Incarnation," as a picture or model might have done, and the marble case that encloses it is covered with sculpture of first-rate merit. The position of the church must be striking from the sea. Ancona is nestled in a kind of comer, and formed by a widely jutting hill to the south (which its cathedral seems to overhang), by two castles, besides other heights up which its houses cluster. But it is a damp and dirty town, so that I spent in it only a single day. The view firom the cathe- dral over the Adriatic is delicious. The mountains of Greece are dimly visible, and the thoughts go wander- ing to the many countries which those waters touch. * A meditation there is certainly to be remembered. The port of Trajan is still the harbour, and its beauti- ful arch of white marble I think surpasses any at Rome. From Ancona I followed the coast by Fano and Pesaro to Rimini. Both of these cities are beautiful, but the general route greatly inferior to that along the shores of the Mediterranean. The country is richly cultivated, but bare of trees and mountainous, except when you get a peep up the valley of some river. From Rimini I wished to reach Ravenna, but the direct road being but little travelled, I found it better to follow the Bologna road by Forli and Faenza, and thence taking the Diligence to Ravenna. Nothing could surpass here, too, the richness and beauty of the country, the cleanliness and thriving- ness of the town. The Apennines, now running east and west, presented a soft and exquisitely varied back- ill John Mackintosh, zH ground. I have made the general remark that town and country on this side of the Apennines seemed greatly to surpass those on the other in cleanliness and cultivation, and in the apparent industry and thriving condition of the inhabitants. They seem intelligent and happy, and many nobility and gentry reside among thenu Fewer beggars, too, are seen, and provisions are wonderfully cheap. Whence then that readiness to revolt, I cannot tell. The occupation of the Austrians is greatly liked, as they are soi equal in their administration of justice, and appear to furnish redress to the people even against their proper rulers. Very different is the case in Lom- bardy. But this is easily explained. Finally, behold me at Ravenna where it rains incessantly, and my cough gives me often no rest. I fear the insipidity of this letter savours of it ; but I thought details would please you. I would remind you how this very day nine years ago, we sailed in all the freshness of nine years younger from the Ship Inn, Dover, to Boulogne, under a bright sky, and a warm sun, for which I would give much just now, not to add, could they be enjoyed in your company !' He arrived at Venice early in June. From thence he wrote the following letter TO HIS SISTER, LADY GORDON GUMMING. ' Venice, June ii, 1850. *My DEAREST Jenny, — I had intended writing you from Rome, but the Fates have ordered it should be from Venice — the one name, I daresay, as thrilling to you as the other. I always quote you as an instance of how two persons may love each other almost better than any one else on earth (I speak for myself at least), and yet correspond but rarely. There is no one with 2 B III! 386 Memorials of whom my past is more sweetly blended than with you ; and I have a presentiment that our future will not be altogether unmingled. O that, at the present hour, I could have you as my dear congenial fellow-traveller ! My dear mother, whose letters are a perfect treat to me abroad, from their newsiness, keeps me up of course to all your doings and movements ; and occasionally trans- mits to me your love. I sometimes wonder at my ex- treme audacity, in thus kilravaging the world, while so many of my own age are hard at work at h6me ; but I have never the slightest misgivings that I am doing wisely, with the nature of the profession I look forward to, and the gravity and experience it demands. My stay at Gene^ a, I may say, was worth my four years' study of Divinity at home. At Rome last winter I abandoned the Roman Catholic Church, and became a Reformer, as it were, on my own responsibility. I yet wish to complete the process, and in Germany to dis- cern the excesses and perils of the Reformation. Through God's blessing I may hope that this training will make me neither heretic nor fanatic. I cannot be too grateful for the opportunities I have had — not only of studying men, manners, languages, religions, but also of beholding some of the most beautiful and hallowed portions of God's created earth. What pen or pencil could do justice to the glories of Switzerland — a country fresh with youth, and where its Maker's fingering seems ineffaced % Then the transit of the Alps, into the land of poetry and song, from Virgil down to your modem composers, all endowed with that divine spark which elevates its possessor above his fellows, and exalts others too, under its influence, above themselves. Land of glorious memories ! how my bosom thrilled as I strode yohn Mackintosh. 387 majestically across the summit of the mountain, and at length was fairly descending upon its sunny plains 1 Moment of delicious excitement ! which it takes a whole youth and boyhood to prepare. I am now about to leave Italy, and what is my verdict t You used to ac- cuse me of seeing everything couleur de rose; but here it shall not — cannot be so. For one thing, I have been direfuUy unfortunate in seeing it under what is called an exceptional phasis. The winter was bitterly cold ; the spring wet beyond description ; and even still, in the heart of June, a serene unclouded sky — such as one fancied to be the prevailing sky of Italy — is an uncom- mon rarity. Now, the sun is the grand magician whose wand electrifies the earth. Everywhere I have seen the elements of bewitching beauty — given only a climate ; but, as I say, this has generally been denied me. Some exceptions, however, there have been, and the memory of these I cherish to the exclusion of the rest, as tally- ing quite with that Italy of my imagination which all the hard realities I have witnessed, shall not obliterate. To any one who has thi prospect of coming abroad, I would say : " Don't look at Byron — don't look at this and that ecstatic lady-writer ; but go with a plain matter- of-fact map in your pocket, and good knowledge of his- tory and literature in your head. Then, what is beautiful or striking you discover for yourself, which lends it an unspeakable charm, and you are taken by surprise. I can safely say, that almost everything previously her- alded and sung makes on me comparatively small im- pression j while the beauties I had not known of set me wild and dangerous. The wretches have puffed up Florence, so that it took several days for the ebb to return into a gentle flow ; and now my memorial of its ;;7i.: ,; ' ! 388 Memorials of galleries, its churches, its environs, its associations, ar» truly dulcet Of Rome, they cannot cheat you; its interest is too deep-seated, too tremendous, too endur- ing. Oh ! the solemn beauty of its ruins, where yet the spring lies green, and the birds are ever gay ! Oh ! the grandeur of its echoes, when the spirits of the past stalk before you, and you hesitate to say which epoch of the world you belong to. Pagan times, dark ages, middle ages, renaissance — all are there epitomized and repre- sented ; and for years you might dwell on, finding ever fresh material for the thoughts, augmented by increasing knowledge. Naples is brilliant as the morning — Rome as sunset You may weary even of that dazzling bay, with its islands, mountains and promontories. Raise has its charms; but they are perilous if they linger. Vesuvius is a fellow that requires much getting up : I never saw him erupt, and when silent he is insipid. Pompeii, although now a railway station, is indeed mar- vellous; Paestum — the threshold of Magna Graecia — glorious for its temples ; Amalfi, Sorrento, and Castella- mare — the very garden of the Hesperides, and spots where I should love to linger. The journey from Rome to Naples is exceedingly beautiful and interesting, whether you take the coast road or the hills : I performed it both ways, and nearly all on foot. FVom Rome, I crossed the country by Nami, Temi, and Spoleto, to Loretto and Ancona. This was, without exception, the love- liest portion of Italy I have seen, and the weather charming. The poets or fibbers cannot humbug you out of this, any more than they can out of Switzerland or Rome. Greenest, richest vegetation ; softest, most varying outline of hills ; clear streams, and sleek herds roaming through surpassing valleys, with that vision- i .■ .* j yohn Mackintosh* 389 irjr light which gives everything, the grossest even, « dream-like ethereal character, and which only an Italian sun can shed. The night, too, when there •8 moonlight, yields not to the day. From Ancona I reached Ravenna, for whose thrilling interest I •efer you to that small work of Gibbon. The tomb r\f Dante is there, and others of chaps much older. Next and now, Venice — bride and queen of the Adriatic ! — gorgeously, sumptuously, fantastically, ridi- culously beautiful — the most un-Presbyterian city it is possible for the mind to fancy. What if Calvin tad got his hammer among the minarets and pin- nacles of St. Mark's ? I am morally certain that cathe- •iral must have been imported on the wings of genii ffom Bagdad or some city of the Arabian Nights j hav- Ang said which, I have said enough. Before it, rise three stupendous masts — emblems of the maritime tepublic ; then the piazza — three sides of a long rect- Angle — the fagades of an architecture at once quaint and rich, with a long cloister (or piazza, as we should use the word) of brilliant shops and cafes all round. The whole square is paved, and entirely shut in from sight of sea or canal. Here Greeks and Turks mingle with Chris- tians ; and at evening, beneath the still and starry sky, an Austrian band, or native singers, discourse most elo- quent music ; while all the rank and fashion of Venice and its visitors enjoy the cool air, feeding on ices, coffee, and harmonious thought The Doge's Palace, and a thousand others, line the Quay and the Grand Canal, all of rich marble and most fantastic architecture, as if to scout the usual stiffness of Europeans. I am not sure if the Venetians say their prayers to the Madonna or the Prophet, but it is of little consequence : one and all in 390 Memorials of Italy are alike Pagan. I have left myself no room to talk of the Italian character ; their abundant talent, so sadly stunted and misdirected; their ignorance; their grand defects of dishonesty and untruthfulness, increased if not originated by shameful priests, or frightfully per- verted religion, and in some parts grievous misgovem- ment. These elements of character are universal ; but in other respects, there is much difference of character between different States. The Lombards and Romans are grave and serious, noble-looking men, and of cour- teous manners. The Florentines and Neapolitans are of fair complexion, and giddy and gay in temperament ; less sincere, and greater rogues perhaps than the other. Except at Florence and Venice, the generality of the women I think hideous; and, after a certain age, they become hags, too ugly to live. The men everywhere are handsome ; pity their hearts are so poltroon ! Espe- cially at Rome, they have, every mother's son of them, a splendid voice ; but they sing little just now, whether from laziness or sulks. In instrumental music, the Germans leave them miles behind. In the public gar- dens of Rome, Florence, Naples, except when the French or Austrians play, you never hear the sound of music. In Germany, no little village could let the even- ing pass without it I believe it is well they should be under foreign rule, although I felt strongly liberal before sojourning among them. They are arrant children with fierce passions, and would certainly go to wreck and ruin if left to themselves. The sincerity and certainty of the Austrians' word, their stem and impartial justice, are acknowledged, while they hate and fear them. Noble fellows those Austrians are, and dashing men their officers ; so unlike the poor peaky-looking French, who yohn Mackintosh, 391 yet are brave and good soldiers, and, I believe, could lick the others. The Madonna is the great goddess of the Italians. About a third of the churches and altars are dedicated to her — the mass of the prayers are ad- dressed to her — every year she is rising in dignity, and the redemption of the world is ascribed to her. A more terrific perversion of Satan it is impossible to conceive, \nd when the day-star is again to dawn on this benighted country, God only knows ; but the time must come ! * Instead of going to the north of Germany, as I had Uitended, I think now of taking up my residence for some time at the University of Tiibingen, in Wiirtem- berg. 'I'hither, then, my pet — to the Poste Restante — will you write me a return stave, and imitate my ego- tism % for you cannot be too minute or trifling in details, in all about yourself and family. Notwithstanding all I see, my heart is still wedded to the shores of the Moray Firth, and I envy those whose lot it is there to live and there to die. My affectionate remembrances to Sir Wil- liam and each of the bairns. Adieu ! dearest Jenny, and never doubt, as you cannot, in the constant love of," etc Venice. — ^ June 13. — Resolved to stay out the week in this charming place, where my cough daily dimin- ishes ; and, for perhaps the first time in Italy, I experi- ence at once physical and mental happiness. Evening, at seven, to Alison's, and walk in piazza; lingered long after he left me, enjoying delicious air and all the glorious associations; forming also schemes of study for the future. '•June 15. — Shakspere and Marino Faliero. Took gondola ; landed at Ghetto, and was conducted by Jewish gentlemen to synagogue. Distributed tracts ; back to St. Mark's. Luxurious evening, as heretofore. 39* Memorials of Indeed, I think I should never weary of the Oriental Arabian-Night-looking Cathedral ; and the noble piazza, with its fresh breeze and calm patch of sky. One can breathe here, and know, without leaving the city, what atmosphere prevails a^jjd fills the earth. None of your shut-up rooms, narrow streets, and choking caf^s* The folloAving verses, written in his pocket-book when leaving Venice, show at least how much he was affected by this noble city : — * Adieu I fair Venice, city of the sea — Long had I loved the beauty of thy name ; But now that I've been bless'd to visit thee, No need of others to extol thy fame. Into my heart thy beauty silently Hath sunk ; how deeply, it perhaps were shame To express in accents that with truth agree ! Yet let it be allowed me without blame To say, at least, I leave thee sadder than I came, * I leave thee, Venice, but my spirit still Lingers amid thy calm ethereal joys — Thy mimic ocean, where one glides at will ''"''-" i From isle to isle, nor tempest rude annoys. What deep tranquillity thy nights instil r Into the soul that learns ere long to poise 'Tween earth and heaven, where holier breathings fill Th' enraptured breast, and earth with all its noise Becomes a thing of nought — a harmless, empty voice * There I have enter'd into Plato's mind, And felt for once with him a kindred tie ; Not as of old in bearing with mankind, The common burthen of humanity— But in being able in myself to find A shadowing forth of immortality — A something that informs me, that, confined Within this clay, there is that cannot die — A spark of God's own life imparted from on high. John Mackintosh, 393 * Plato was one of these that from below Rose to the empyrean, and attain'd Perhaps a greater vision than can know, Any by human force alone sustain' d. But there was One who came from heav'n to show How man might commune with the skies, and deign'd To take upon Him our vile clay — when lo ! God became man— .and man was surely train'd To soar from earth to heav'n on wings divinely gain'd. * Daily I strive, my yearning spirit seeks To fix its home among those higher spheres. Alas ! in vain ; but now and then are streaks Of morning light upon my heav'n that cheers. Yet soon again, long night its vengeance wreaks ; Yet not the less, e'en then it music hears, Christ gave the compass that 'mid shoals and breaks Guides the benighted mariner without fears, And whispers oft and sure deliv'rance in his ears.' Leaving Venice, he journeyed via Padua, Vicenza, Verona, Trent, Botzen, Innspruck, and thence by Lake of Constance to Stuttgart and Tubingen. From Verona, he wrote to his friend Mr. Bum Murdoch, then at Halle : — *. . . My dear mother still writes in the hope of being able to get abroad, in which case I should be sorry, indeed it would be impossible, to tabernacle at Halle and she at Wildbad. Accordingly, looking at the map, I perceived that our friend Meyer's University — no mean one either — stands within a few hours' drive of the baths. This appeared exactly to suit me ; and to Tiibingen I have resolved to go, diere to tarry out the session, with frequent visits to niy mother, should she come, during its course, and joining her when it is over, in August . . . * On a winter at Berlin, I have always secretly set my heart, and always had the presentiment we should be m m ' : I' • 394 Memorials of \ 'fix ^1 there together. If I see my mother this summer, all my scruples and hindrances will be removed, and my way made plain. ... I am sure you have studied well, and, above all, I hope you have inhaled a long draught of Scottish air and heart, to bear you through a foreign winter. At the same time, I believe we should find the native Germans more hearty and home-like than the native Genevese. ... * I touched at Halle in 1844, walked and drank tea with Dr. Tholuck, whom I admired and loved. I heard him lecture on Romans viii., and give a most beautiful cottage address, in a hall of the tovm, to rustics and others — the subject, John vi. ; and every syllable edify- ing and touching. . . . *What rude, raw thing in general, is student life among theologians ! All other professions (the students of) are true to their youth and bias ; but here there is an incongruity. The subject of their thoughts and con- versation is grave, sublime, but infinitely too delicate for such coarse handling ; and their Hves should be one thing, and are another; but they are neither one nor other out and out. I confess I shrink from again coming into daily, hourly contact with what I deplore, but cannot mend. . . . * Of Venice, I shall not trust myself to speak. I am over head and ears in love with it more than any other city in Italy, or than all the rest put together : it has captivated me, heart and soul. I don't know how I got away from it, but I felt myself even intellectually another being there ; and floating on the Lagune, or pacing St Mark's till nearly midnight, used to form visions of study, and follow out trains of meditation that made me think my clay had forsaken me, or become moulded yohn Mackintosh, 395 into something more ethereal Glorious city, under whatever point you view it.' He notices in his Diary that * In the travellers' book at Trent, one of the earliest names in the book (1824) was that of Sir Walter Scott, written in a female hand. Twice occurs that of Willie Gumming ; the first time with Mr. Callander, the second with young Islay. Dal- yell's name also in 1845, awoke many thoughts. There were also the two S s moving into Italy, and there- fore breathing high contentment with everything and everybody ; everywhere in refreshing contrast with the complaints of those moving northwards, and telling of knaves, thieves, rogues, impostors, filth, uncleanliness, to be avoided by the forewarned ; but how^ it is not added. I would say (but not sweepingly), only by re- turning to the latitudes from which they came.' '■June 23. — (Brixen.) — A long sleep in a gloriously clean bed. Then read in German Testament and wrote till five. Short walk, and dined at eight Out again. Delicious air, and thoroughly Tyrolese scenery — wooded hills and green uplands, with their white hamlets and fine church and spire ; then woods above, and higher, but rarer, hamlets, till the mountain insensibly passes into bare rock and snow. In a cemetery on which the mountain looked down, the simple villagers of above seemed to repair reverently, one by one, to visit the tombs and crosses, and to pray, kneeling and repeating inaudibly with their lips. The sight, the place, the hour affected me, and here at least I had no doubt that their hearts were full. The German language seems to me ill suited for lip-service. To-morrow I cross the Alps, and adieu to Italy, — land which I entered with the n '«"■■; • ii 111 m m 39^ Memorials of highest expectations, but which, except for instruction, has presented me with few attractions. A climate for cold, heat, rain, and apparent transparency of atmos- phere, odious and incongruous. But let me hope that the instruction has been substantial, deep, and lasting, and so we are more than quits. Farewell.' How different were his feelings on entering Italy ! But his own bad health, we suspect, had to do with his change of feelings quite as much as the bad climate. But so glad was he to return to the north, that the volume of his diary (the thirteenth !) in which his de- parture out of Italy is recorded, is inscribed, ' Out of Italy— Hurrah V t;v*( yohn Mackintosh, 397 ^^1 CHAPTER XVI. TflMngen— Hfs studies there— Diary— Letters to his youngest Sister— To Rev. W. Ker— Visits Stuttgart and Komthal— Letters to his Mother, A. Bum Murdoch, Esq., and Rev. N. Macleod— Returns to Tfibingen — Letters to A. Hamilton, Esq., to his youngest Sister, to R. Balfour, Esq., to Miss Hodges, to his Mother, to Mr. Bum Murdoch, and to his Sister Lady Gordon Gumming— Christmas at Stuttgart — Letters to Miss Hodges, to his Sister Mrs. Smith, to Rev. N. Macleod, to A. Hamilton, Esq.— Declining Health — Diary. John Mackintosh once more resumed his student- life in Tubingen. This is a town in Wiirtemberg of eight thousand inhabitants, situated about forty miles to the south of Stuttgart, and in one of the most picturesque and fertile districts of Suabia. It is built upon a low undulating ridge of vineyard-clad slopes, rising abruptly above the Neckar, which, here a small arro^\7 stream, sweeps their base. The nar~ow streets of the greater portion of the town wind their way up the hill, with old houses, whose high-peaked gables approach each other in the strip of blue sky overhead ; while here and there are open spaces for a market-place, a church, or some venerable school of learning. The ridge is crowned by an old SchlosSy once belonging to the Pfalzgraves of Tiibingen — a race extinct two centuries ago. The castle itself is yet in good repair, and turned to account by the University, to which it now belongs. From its l>attlements there is a beautiful view to the eastward, 398 Memorials of I of which the Suabian * Alp ' forms the most striking feature. Beyond the Schloss, the path winds through the vineyards. In a summer-house, on the Osterberg, Wieland composed his Oberon; and amidst the same scenes of rural beauty, Uhland still chants his exquisite lyrics. The University of Tiibingen is one of the oldest and most illustrious in Germany. Reuchlin and Melanchthon once taught in it. It possesses an ancient Protestant Theological, and also a Roman Catholic Seminary. Mackintosh took up his residence in the ina * You know,' he says in writing to a friend, ' my weakness for inns, and would choose one to die in.* On the first day of his arrival (July i), he writes thus in his Diary : — * I know not how it is, but the moment I halt at a place with the design of resting there per- manently some months, my spirits sink, and all seems dark and dreary. At Geneva and Rome it was not so; but I remember the same thing at Heidelberg and Bonn, and now here. I seem to have reached the back of the world, and have all the sensations of night- mare and suffocation. This may pass, and, at all events, Gk)d grant that I may here make diligent progress in all my studies ! ' This sadness passed away, when he once more entered upon his studies. These were as earnest as ever. Every hour was occupied. In one of his letters, he says : — * Among many lectures that attracted me, I have limited myself to (beginning with the lowest) Vischer, at six p.m., on German Literature; Hefele (Roman Catholic Semi- nary) on Church History, at ten ; and the Fathers at four ; Beck, on Christian Ethics, three days a week ; Schwegler, on Plato, at two; and, twice a week, %':\ m yohn Mackintosh. 399 (C not berg the nited P.M., emi- s at Ephoms " Hoffman, of the Theological Stift, on Old Testament Theology, at two. I attend also, as often as possible, the excellent Dr. Schmidt, and his colleague, the famous Rationalist, Bauer, who lectures on the History of Dogmas, his /or/e, and on New Testament Theology. I am anxious to hear him, as he represents the newest and most learned school of the Hegelian or Strauss philosophy.' Considering that this was only a portion of the work which filled up the twenty-four hours, he might well say, in writing to a friend, that he * worked the clock out of countenance,' and in his journal (August 6) : — * I am moving in full sail, every inch of canvas spread, although my craft be small : not two minutes of the day but I work and turn to account O my Lord, may I add that it is all for Thee !' He remained in Tiibingen without a break, for more than two months. *y?//v 8. — Got a letter from my mother, which allayed my fears of their coming abroad to Wildbad as they in- tended; and the Wildbad road is for me henceforth gloomy, leading to gloom, and utterly unwalkable, espe- cially at evening I My judgment rejoices, /uy heart mourns. * Had a long walk with Professor Michaelis. In the evening, the reading-room. Read the news of Sir Robert Peel's death, which made my heart beat, and my eyes swim. What ! in the prime of life, and the only competent prime minister at present for England ! Some day, I suppose, Gladstone will be prime minister, and then, however England may be managed externally, she will be thrown into internal Church broils, for which she is already ripe; and some agencies which are at ,■1 1! it:' 400 Memorials of present in the background, will once more play an in- fluential part in the history of Europe. Russia and England are preparing the ground for a tussle. The former has religious objects in view as well as political. God grant that, if she endeavour to supplant the Church of Rome, England enter not mto the quarrel, as giving her power to 1 I feel a gloom over my mind and spirit in consequence of this news. *July 27. — My life is here tranquil and happy. A week, a month ended, during which much cause of thankfulness to God. May the next in all respects witness better things, through Thy blessing, O my Godr TO HIS YOUNGEST SISTER. * Tubingen, July 30. * ... It is perfectly absurd to imagine that any part of the Continent can for a moment vie with the thousand and one spots of our own dear land. Chris' accounts of Clifton and Malvern sent my thoughts a-spinning, and, shall I say it, created a certain Heimweh; but this I must keep down for some time yet. I received her dear letter this afternoon — ^blessings on her for it! it did me more good than ten physicians ; how marvellous her recovery, how rich the goodness of God ! I do not wish to miss the lesson you must all have had during the process of the fever, but try to realize it all, and feel as you do. I wish, since you will a-jaunting, you could for a week change places with me, brat; not but that I am most happy here, and making some progress in that dictionary-needing tongue; but you know the keen relish I had for Temple Sowerby, and its picture of domestic and village life — the sweet associ- yohn Mackintosh, 401 M«Qns [ have with it, and now I shall never more be- hold it under the same dynasty. It ia like the curiosity I have to see Constantinople tenanted by the Turks ; and the presentiment I have that, ere I visit it in my grand tour of the world, the Russians and not the proper, romantic, orthodox Mahometans will be there. Well, alas ! I could weep for it — for oh ! those days of Gresford, Wrexham, of Appleby and UUswaterizing ! but hush ! down 1 not a word more. I have no doubt destiny will conduct them to some other sweet spot in south-west England; and there too one's heart may nestle. How look the rocks by Eden now 1 how grow the cowslips in the intervening park? Is Eggspoon still the hero of the village? und so wetter. You will admire the lyrical character of this effusion, but it mat- ters not. I have written my travels to so many, in shreds and patches, distributed over Europe, that the subject palls me. I expect this time to make distin- guished progress in German. Are you doing anything in that way? There is a Professor here who lectures twice a week upon Faust ; and even without his aid I have discovered it to be not quite such nonsense (!) as we once imagined ; but you must understand the allu- sions, and for that we were not then competent Some day (that is never) I may lecture to you on it I some- times think, "Where am I? what brought me here? what am I doing here ? where is everybody else ? when shall I rejoin them?" Well, the only conclusion is, that our life is a strange mystery, and understood not even by ourselves. We don't know the consequence of our acts, or whither we are tending; but One above does, and it becomes us in faith, and yet with trembling, to wait upon Him, and as much as possible confine our 3 c M'i J 402 Memorials of attention to the limits of the present, and make the most oi" it.' TO THE REV. WM. KER. •TUBINOEN, August 2^, 185a * ... I feel satisfied there is very much to be learned in this heretical land, and only ''>nm that so few of my right tuchtig friends are here t( .p the benefits which I see may be acquired, would fain acquire, but am strait- ened from acquiring and importing, through poverty of intellect. I am persuaded we seldom rightly sound and probe the truth till we are urged to it by error. The more the soul travails in those high regions, the more will it bring forth — albeit it be to the eye and in form ju»t what it had before — and that without much eftbrt They tell me here God is diffused through time and space, without any distinct individuality or personality. I try this upon my spirit, and it rebounds from such a doctrine, to cling — with what fc dness, with what ear- nestness, with what deep-felt 'tude ! — to all that Scripture reveals of the high Ui.- holy, as well as in- finitely gracious and condescending One; and so on through all the attacks I have yet encountered. I must say I feel a world of information — I might say of light breaking in upon me from all sides. I feel that I am bemg educated — that each day adds something to its predecessor, and only regret (though perhaps the regret is vain) that so late in life I have entered on so whole- some and invigorating a mental discipline. Could we but transplant the good to Scotland, the spirit of inquiry — profound, enlightened, patient; and reject the evil accompani7nents — I fear in some measure with sinful man, consequences — it would be an achievement worthy Ml yohn Mackintosh, 403 of the thanks of all posterity. But a truce to such remarks. We are at least happier with the practical side of things developed among us ; the humble, believing, loving, but withal perhaps uninquiring Chris- tianity.' The month of September was spent at Stuttgart. He says in his Diary, August 19 : — ' I begin to welcome the thought of a move — for I have here, through God's goodness, studied well, and need relaxation.' His few weeks were busily occupied in constant attendance at the meetings of the Kirchcntag, and more especially in examining, with great minuteness and patience, the various schools in the city, so as to master the German system of education, to which so much attention has so deservedly been directed in this country. While in Stutt irt he enjoyed the society of Professor Mentzell, the well-known author of Lectures on German Literature. ' Sept. 6. — Had a walk in the park gardens with Pro- fessor M( tzell, as far as Hoffer's Castor and Pollux. He criticibcd the sculptures. Spoke also with much despair of the condition of Germany, as regards unity and liberty. The petty sovereigns, in spite of the wishes of their people, must just revert to the old system, and be, if possible, more arbitrary and despotic. The Cham- bers are a mere shadow. He spoke of historians ; the Germans amass materials, but are too long : the French fail in solid materials — this is true of Fleury, Mignet, and Guizot. Mignet's style he greatly admires. The English historians he likes : Gibbon, however, defective in his notice of the migration of the people after the fall of the Roman Empire, too much in the style of the V I iV\ ii 404 Memorials of old Roman historians. Hume good lor his time. He spoke of some old historians (as Moore) who had pleased him much ; and also of Sir Thomas Browne's (his son Edward's fj Travels in Germany. ^ Sept. 9. — (The Sunday question at the Kirchentag.) — At eight went to the Cathedral : very full. Many old heads among the audience. Hofprediger Klein preached, as I thought, a capital sermon for the occasion, full of patriotism and judicious pious admonition. Alluded to the state of Germany, the desire for unity in its church, and more life among its people, and welcomed the builders of their Zion then present. The best means for building, he said, was unity of spirit, but not uni- formity. And the best means for promoting life and godliness was personal godliness and personal example. At 9.30 to Spital Kirche. Dr. Schmid mounted the pulpit about 12 to give a discourse on Sabbath obser- vance. Kapf, of Herrenberg, read aloud afterwards Dr. Schmid's " heads," and some more of his own, on the obligation and advantage of sanctifying the Lord's day. Dr. Schmid had given up the Old Testament, New Tes- tament, and Church argument separately, but grounded the duty on all together. Kapf seemed to go farther in a Scottish direction, and he was followed by an endless succession of speakers, old and young, professors and pastors, some of them for the divine obligation, as, for instance, Dr. Sack ; others against it, as Krummacher. It was just the old range of argument for and against. All were yearning for something to be decided out of Scripture, and calling for some deeply learned professor to give his opinion and help them to decide. But surely this very dividing is itself instructive % Truth must lie on both sides, since neither party (unless bitroted) can *John Mackintosh, 405 out and out condemn the otlier. Luther, Calvin, Eng- land, America, etc. etc., were all quoted. The result was that at three o'clock, all other business having been excluded, they decided practically to address govern- ments, requesting their aid in the outward consecration of the day, and to address the people on its inward, per- sonal, family, and social observation. Tlie conclusion thus come to was one, though the grounds by which it was urged differed widely. I cannot help thinking that after all the deep search and long scepticism of German theology, in debateable and unsearchable questions, it will at last come back, in the mass of pastors and people, to a certain working out of and a living upon the light which their fathers had, and which they themselves will re-adopt, without farther vain inquiry, or much progress in actual knowledge. After all, religion makes its pro- gress in another region and in another manner. The doing has here an altogether marvellous, and humanly speaking, incomprehensible relation to the knotmng.' LETTER TO HIS MOTHER. ' Stuttgart, Sept. 8. 'Ere I finally decide for next winter, I look up to Him whom I desire to serve ; and, were it not that my decision will be already made when you receive this, would ask you to intercede for me. I do not think that I am following the devices of my own heart, in thus lingering abroad, and wishing to pass a winter in Germany ; because I can foresee, almost with gloom, many things from which the flesh naturally shrinks, and which I might avoid by returning at once to a dear home, to loving friends, and to active work, for which my soul yearns. No, my sojourn abroad, from the ili 1 1 l1 I' 4o6 Memorials of first moment down to the present, has been no pastime. The very scantiness of the means on which I have managed so much travelUng and residence in expensive places, betokens that I am not given to outward self- indulgence ; and these two years are sufficient to have convinced me, that there is no happiness on earth at all equal to that to be enjoyed at home, and among friends, in a sphere too where language is no bar to proclaiming, and so serving, Christ. But I feel im- pelled to complete what I have begun — so strongly, that were I to act otherwise, I should be doing violence to all those indications which I must regard as the leadings of God's providence. What He designs for me and with me, I do not know ; but I can see my present duty in no other way. I know, dearest mother, that this defence, so to speak, is quite unnecessary for you — for you, who gave me birth, have always instinc- tively had confidence in my motives; but I write it because, in my present perplexity, I have been led more closely to examine my heart, and to search after the Lord's will ; and the verdict I have given to myself, I communicate to you.' In the beginning of the following letter to Mr. Bum Murdoch, he refers to a severe illness from which his firiend was slowly recovering : — • Stuttgart, Sept. 14, 1850. * It would be impossible for me to tell you, in a letter, how much yours, from Geneva, moved and distressed me — the nature of your trial is so painful and severe ; but even for such a case the Lord is all-sufficient, and, I trust, and indeed have the conviction, that His strength has been made perfect in your weakness ; that the Lord jfohn Mackintosh, 407 astime. I have pensive rd self- ;o have ;arth at among bar to :eel im- trongly, /iolence as the igns for see my mother, ^sary for instinc- Iwrite it d more iter the lyself, I Burn lich his [1850. letter, tressed levere ; f., and, rength Lord has given you such a sweet resignation to His sovereign and all-wise will ; that the suffering has been turned into a blessing for you ; that your faitk in Him has been made strong, so that you discern love in the affliction ; and that His grace within you has enabled you to say, " Lord, I am not my own, but Thine ; bought with Thy blood, and dedicated to Thy service \ do with Thy ser- vant as Thou seest good and best." I feel anxious about you, and therefore hope you will not keep me long in suspense, but write me soon how you now are, and whether you can say an amendment is visible. " The Lord grant it ! " has been my very frequent prayer. Of course had I been at Geneva, I would have joined with William in urging your return ; and as you have done but what was right, I need not be silent on my personal disappointment, which is but the expression of my love to you. Yes, I had been looking forward, I may say buoyed up by the prospect of our meeting, and felt my heart sink when my hope was blighted ; but to God's will I must also bow, and believe (though I can- not yet feel) that here, too, all is for the best. I felt, and still feel, like a ship in a troubled and dreary sea, wanting half its hands. I have not been so desolate in spirit since the day after you left me at Lausanne — per- plexed and weighed down ; but without moon, stars, or inward light, I hope on — the morning must come — its first dawn will be when you write me cheerily (but faith- fully) of yourself. I expected to have been comforted in seeing dear Meyer at Tubingen, as he wrote me from Lyons, and thus hearing from him of you, as well as solacing myself in his friendship and advice. I waited there a week for him beyond my time ; but he neither came nor wrote, so that I began to fear he also was 4o8 Memorials of w It: unwell. At last I moved to Stuttgart on the 2d of September, quite undecided what to do. The Kirchen- tag, or Assembly of German divines, as you probably know, was to take place here on the loth ; and I used this as an excuse for delay in deciding my plans, re- maining for it, and seeking God's direction. The inter- vening week I spent profitably, at least, in inspecting very thoroughly the gymnasium in all its classes, for which I had permission, and comparing it with our own system. At last came the Kirchentag, which has occu- pied this entire week from Tuesday. I have attended indefatigably all its meetings ; and by going early, generally secured a good place for hearing and under- standing. A few words upon it may interest you. First, it was numerously attended. Some hundreds of pastors and others, from all parts of Germany to the most remote. I saw there your friends Tholuck and Julius Miiller ; Sack and Domer from Bonn ; the two Krum- machers ; Stahl, and some lay noblemen from Prussia and Berlin; representatives from Hamburg, Bremen, Schleswig-Holstein, the frontiers of Holland, Frankfort, Hesse, Saxony, Hungary, Bavaria — and, in short, every hole and comer of broad Germany. Nitzsch was pre- vented from coming, but UUmann and other distin- guished men were also there. The hospitality of Stutt- gart was truly Scottish. Every stranger, on presenting himself, was presented with a card of admission to the meetings. Oratorios, and leading sights of the city, with a full description of the latter, and with the offer of quarters in a family if he wished. Business began each day at eight or nine, and lasted till three ; then a table- dhbte in three different locales ; at five, friendly inter- course in the Museum or its beautiful garden ; in the 'John Mackintosh. 409 t : evening, Oratorios (very splendid) ; or meetings of com- mittees to arrange business, also open to the public. The greatest unanimity has prevailed in the discussions ; and these have embraced almost every conceivable means of furthering the kingdom of Christ among the German people, from the sanctification of the Sunday (with which their discussions opened) to Bible and tract circulation, itinerant preaching, prison visiting, school evangelization, family worship, and many other important, and even minute, questions. In one word, the object of their meeting, besides the indirect one of promoting unity of spirit and love among the churches and brethren, is statedly the Home Mission. There is no doubt that the idea of such an annual assembly arose out of the Revolu- tion of 1848, this being now their third meeting since that year (the first two were at Wittemberg) ; and that on this account they are favourably regarded, and even encouraged, by the still despotic governments ; but how fair a child, and how rich in fruit is this, through God's blessing likely to become for Germany, and through it for all lands ! I desire nothing further to confirm me in the faith that the Revolution has been overruled by God for the furtherance of His kingdom. No one present could fail to be convinced, that in it was the germ of a second Reformation for Germany, more profound in ex- perience, and more lasting than the first ; and under this inspiration many who have lived through the troublous times, which conduced to the Revolution, could not forbear from weeping at the vision of the rebuilding of their Zion, which they had never expected in their days to witness. Earnest, earnest were the prayers, and sensible the presence of the Spirit of God among them ; and an onlooker, whose heart was with them, could not m \ 41 I :| Memorials of fail to be deeply moved, to share in the benediction, and to desire even to join in bearing stones for the work. And there were some English missionaries there not inactive ; and England and Scotland were often quoted in the speeches, though the prevailing tone was strictly national and original, and could not, and ought not to have been otherwise.' While at Stuttgart, he had the happiness of making the acquaintance of the poet Dr. Knapp, whose beautiful hymns are familiar to the German Church. * Sept. 26. — At eight to Dr. Knapp ; very kind recep- tion. Spoke partly in English and partly in German. He is an intense admirer of Shakspere : thinks him far greater than Homer, Dante, or Goethe. Macbeth mar- vellous ! Act ii. scene 2, unsurpassable ! He made me read it Spoke of Goethe, Byron, Shelley, Cowper — all in language highly poetical and full of just remarks. He is going to Berlin, and offered to take me with him. Rieger came in and concluded our interview, which lasted an hour, by playing me some airs from Beethoven.' Mackintosh spent the first two weeks in October at Kornthal, a village — described in the next letter — near Stuttgart. From thence he wrote me some account of the state of theological education and religion in Wiir- temberg. TO THE REV. N. MACLEOD. ' Kornthal, Oct. 5. *. . . As to Itnly, its very names have power to sweep the soul in all its ham'^nies, and I believe and trust that the vibration with me, will cease only with life. It is now a sweet dream — a gorgeous vision ; the curtain of the past has for a short season been raised before my yohn Mackintosh, 411 eyes : it has fallen again, but the unutterable things 1 have beheld are mine for ever ! I might have told you my emotions on seeing Dr. and Mrs. Black at Naples ; how my heart went out to them for auld lang syne, and for the circumstances that brought them there ; how we spoke of home, of you, and the Doctor, and made Naples for the time Scotland ; and yet Scotland, and Dr. Black, and I, and all of us, were subjected to the magic of a Naples sun, and sky, and bay, and mountains. Since then I have heard of them no more, but my thoughts have followed them. . . . The transit of the Alps is to no man an ordinary moment, and I know not whether I felt bigger, when descending from the Spliigen to Chia- venna, with the whole jar of youthful association ready to be discharged, or in descending upon Innspriick, the jar refilled with what must serve for manhood and old age. . . . And now Germany, the vanquisher of old Rome, that first shook the gates of new, and may yet, one day, by God's grace, overthrow them — a noble land, never per- haps more rich in promise than at the present moment Two months of summer, as you know, I spent at Tiibin- gen. It has a Roman Catholic and Protestant Theo- logical Seminary, both well supplied. ^ Unlike the usual practice in Germany, the students in either live within the walls, and are thus subjected to a thorough training and surveillance. Indeed, in all its departments, the little kingdom of Wiirtemberg is, one may say, admirably ordered, and always aiming at something higher, and still more efficient. The preparation of her pastors is but one instance of this. Those of her youth who have already, at an early period, determined on being minis- ters, may go to one of four preparatory gymnasia, where they remain from the age of fourteen to eighteen, live ^ ■■4s! A.^2 Memorials of I \\ within the walls, have their expenses in a great measure paid, are instructed in a most thorough manner in Latin, Greek, Hebrew, their own tongue, and another modem language ; in History also. Logic, Ethics, Mathematics, Natural Philosophy, Church History, and religious know- ledge, besides Music and other lighter accomplishments. After this, upon passing an adequate examination, they are admitted into the Theological School at Tubingen, where, during the first year and a half, they attend chiefly lectures on Psychology, Metaphysics, and Ethics in the University ; making these subjects their principal study, along with perhaps one course in the Theological depart- ment each half year. The remaining two years and a half are devoted exclusively to Theology. The Roman Catholic students have two preparatory gymnasia, and follow, I believe, the same rules. If a student have studied at another g)ntnnasium (the' education is generally admirable in Wiirtemberg), and be able to pass the pre- liminary examination, he can still enter the Theological Seminary. Of the four Professors in the Protestant School, three are men not only evangelical, but emi- nently pious. These are Drs. Schmid, Beck, and Lan- derer; the fourth, however, is a kind of giant in his way, being the famous Rationalist, Dr. Bauer. I am afraid his intellectual influence carries nearly two-thirds of some one hundred and sixty students with him ; the rest are otherwise minded. There exists genuine piety among the students ; indeed, the Suabian character, so full of sentiment and yearning after the unseen, presents a favourable field for its development ; but this very ele- ment has also led them away after the visions of a -^ Schelling or a Hegel, while the reaction from it has perhaps produced a Strauss. These three men, by the yohn Mackintosh, 4M way, were all at one time students in the Theological Seminary of Tiibingen ! On leaving the seminary they may proceed as vicar to some clergyman, in which post they remain often many years. Some twenty of the most talented, who have passed the most distinguished examination, are recalled after a few years of such ex- perience, to resume their studies in the University ; and, as sort of Fellows, direct the studies of the younger students both there and in the gymnasia, and take a general superintendence of a certain number living in an adjoining room, and coming constantly in contact with them. They try their hand, too, occasionally in lectur- ing, and may one day become professors. * ... In the Church of Wiirtemberg there are very nearly a thousand employed pastors; they have three gradations of rank ; and the Church, in its S)rmbols and constitution, is strictly Lutheran. Of these one thousand perhaps two hundred are Pietists^ a name here synony- mous with Methodists, or those who are earnest in their religion. Unlike Methodists, however, they are within the Church, and date throughout all Germany, as far back as the time of Spener, in the seventeenth century. Chiefly through their endeavours, the spark of true re- ligion has never been extinguished. A large number of the Lord's hidden ones have always underlain the more noisy infidels and rationalists, whose sound alone has come to us; and this is attested by the unexampled mass of Christian hymns in which the German language is so rich, and Christian household books, composed and written throughout the whole course of years since the Reformation. The Pietists have frequently changed their ground according to the necessity of the times, I mean in theological and ecclesiastical matters. Their \w&\ ^ 1 'i\ If ^ %k 414 Memorials of main object has been to preserve life, and from this they have never swerved ; but in the time of Spener it was to be done by opposing a dry adherence to confessions and dogmas, and adhering more closely to the Bible, the living Word. In more modem times they are often the vindicators of confessions, since men have so far swerved from all positive belief. The shades, however, that prevail among even the orthodox are here so nu- merous, that I have not yet been able to master them. Many of the Pietists, while evangelical in the main, enter- tain opinions on many points which we would condemn ; and, indeed, I should say generally that Germany must still, for many years, present the appearance of a country from which the floods are abating, and where dry land and water are not yet distinct That the floods are abating is an undoubted and glorious yarf. . , . * But I must now be done. Behold me in Komthal, an interesting little colony of Christians, as you know, in the neighbourhood of Stuttgart, founded under Hoff- man, somewhere about the year 1818, by some pious families, who, displeased with some Rationalist changes introduced into the National Church, were preparing ior conscience' sake to quit their country, when the king granted them this valley, divided into httle pro- perties, where they have liberty to choose their own pastor and schoolmaster, to use their own hymn-book, and to introduce such other practices as they think good. They are quite independent of the Consistory, but gene- rally choose their pastor out of the National Church. They also elect their own mayor or provost. In most matters they strictly resemble the Lutheran and Na- tional Church. They have, however, evening worship in the church, frequent meetings for brotherly edifica- yohn Mackintosh. 415 tion, and altogether appear to realize a very delightful religious life. An establishment for young men and young ladies, from all parts (some from England), has been also founded here. . . . ' O how my heart yearns for home ; but I dare not think of it. Depend upon it, I lead no luxurious life abroad — Newman himself not more ascetic ; but I think I am deriving profit here, and, if I live, may have time yet to work. Were I to consult ease and pleasure, I should come home ; were I to consult happiness, I should seek a parish or a flock ; but as yet it may not be. Now, dear Norman, may God bless you, and bless your work, and lead and discipline you from day to day, as He does every one who is indeed His child. — So prays, I may say daily,* eta He suffered much bodily pain while in Komthal, though not an expression indicative of such suffering, now or at any time, ever appears in any letter. But in his Diary he says : — ^ Sunday^ Oct. 6. — (Komthal.) — Have to-day fasted— service again at seven. Outwardly I am very wretched here \ but it makes me cry loudly to God, seek my comfort in Him, recognise it as His orders, and seek thus a childlike spirit of submission and tractableness. Heavenly Father ! bless it to these ends. Wean me wholly from the world ; engage my whole heart in living for Thee and my neighbour. Overcome the selfishness and love of ease so inherent in me, and fulfil towards me Thy purposes of love in Christ Jesus ! * Of course, with all this roughing my cough and chest pains increased ; but I comniit all to Him whose I am, and whom I desire to serve. w I .41 4i6 Memorials of ^ Monday y Oct. 14. — (Kornthal.) — Here, too, the Lord has had me in His school, and seen fit to discipline me chiefly through bodily hardship and suffering, the neces- sity of which I recognise. Though the fruits are not what I could wish, and He may see meet yet further to visit me; yet I trust I have not yet wholly lost the blessing of a more chastised and docile heart ; an aroused desire to live not to myself, but to Him; to have my treasure in heaven, and live a stranger on the earth, in greater love also, and childlike waiting on His leading. Blessed Lord ! who seest what I write, and knowest the condition of my heart, and what is good for me better than I, only leave me not. Give me from day to day tokens of Thy nearness and communion with Thyself. Give me a devoted, loving heart — a broken and contrite spirit. Give me to serve Thee, and I am ready to receive what else cometh from Thy hands. I pray for holiness more than happiness. Amen.' While in Stuttgart he examined, as I have already noticed, with great attention each day for two weeks, the system of education pursued in its schools. The results of his observations are communicated in a letter to his friend Mr. Balfour, written at a later date, and which I cannot refrain from publishing in the Appendix, as the information which it conveys may prove interesting, for own sake, to many readers. lackintosh returned to Tiibingen at the end of Octo- ber, and resumed his routine of study. His friend, Mr. Hamilton, had been in Denmark, and w" ^ m when the following letter was written to ^ 'T 3, ^ '. . . Both your letters haveafi^ d me . tht first, I sorrowed in your sorrow, and the. scconi i gives hints II yohn Mackintosh. 417 of more disasters, I trust not so intimate and near. Your wanderings have interested me too, though in your last you are more laconic. I should greatly like to have not one but many talks, to cream you of your experiences, and make the thread of your recent life more apparent to me. How very different must have been your earth and heavens in the north, and mine at Rome ! In all that regards not the sure and certain anchorage of the soul, I feel how much we are moulded by our circumstances. My experience since I last wrote you has been very manifold. I would not will- ingly part with it, nor with the belief that the Lord has led me through it, like a shepherd, for my own good, if not also for that of others. Amid the many temptations to forgetfulness of Him, which these last years have presented, I have ever felt His hand about me, whether with the rod to chasten and correct, or with gentleness to attract and bind more closely. It is this experience that makes me think I am following His will in thus lingering in other lands, instead of at once entering on His more immediate service. We are not our own, but bought with a price, and dare not lightly follow our own ways. I trust that your experience has been of a kindred nature, although no two are disciplined alike, and that in the retrospect of an equal term of expatriation you can look back upon more solid profit, and more direct leading of the Lord than I. * I still revert in thought to the glories of the past winter, often thinking it must be a waking dream ; but that the impressions, forms, sentiments then amassed, are as real and vivid, if not more so, than any other of my mental being. I lost for a time the Italy of my youthful fancy, to be replaced by one no less beautiful 2 D 4i8 Memorials of and more instructive ; and now, to my delight, I find that I can again possess both, and live at will in the ideal or real. It is never without regret that we part with what has long been familiar to us : this feeling I naturally experienced at first in Italy ; so what was my joy on discovering the other day on looking at some Italian scenes, that I could regard them as of yore or of yesterday I * TO HIS YOUNGEST SISTER. ' Tubingen', Nofv. 2. *. . . I am just finishing the Wallenstein, which I never before read in the original It is buff to Faust ; and even the poetrj' does not impress me so much as when I read it in translation in more bijssom-loving days. I think Schiller is but a lady-poetess compared to the manhood of Goethe. Yet I like the man cf course far better. Still, even on his own ground, of the tender, the enthusiastic, and the beautiful, the cold old heathen by his art can surpass. I compare Coleridge's translation with it He has taken strange liberties often with the text, overhauled the whole structure of the play, left out large bits, and now and then expanded little ones, perhaps on the whole judiciously; but I have caught the knave in some actual blunders, which leads me now and then to suspect that he has skipped passages, because he found their construction hard; nevertheless both are glorious. Tell me what you are yourself doing or contemplate doing. May God be with yoU; darling love, this winter, and lead you in His own blessed ways. Be instant in prayer. Study the Gospels much. Try and make out a picture of the life of Christ, by taking Matthew as your text — comparing him with yohn Mackintosh. 419 the other two, and then ending with St. John. We cannot love Him whom we have not seen, unless through faith His matchless form be revealed to us, and this can only be in the description of His life and character. I am sure you would find such a study, meditatively pursued, most interesting and profitable. It is my comfort to commit you into his hands. I am lonely enough here ; so write me now and then ; not but that I have friends, and good friends, but no countryman. . . ' It is very true that human hearts and sympathies link us to places more strongly, and dwell more sweetly in the memory than any other kind of association. It is for this reason I should like to have some congenial spirit with me in my wanderings, be they vagabondish, or like those of the wise men of yore who traversed the earth in search of wisdom ; or like those of my name- sake, who abode in Fadan-aram to be out of harm's way at home, and got himself married But this is not my intention.' , rl |>wn )els ^ith TO R. BALFOUR, ESQ. •TUBINGBN, NkA>. II, 185O1 *My very dear Balfour, — I received your truly welcome letter at Naples. Since then I seem to have lived through several summers and winters, and marvel constantly that the date must still be 1850. When I tell you that, towards the end of February last, I was bathing in the Mediterranean, and that since then I have witnessed periods of snow and sunshine, you will understand how even physically I may use this language; how much more when memory goes back over the nations, customs, and costumes through which I have wandered ! I do not know that in the view of a life of mI ^-n 4^0 Memorials of direct service, should my Lord and me to it, 1 would willingly give up one labour in His Saviour call week of all this experience ; and what is more, I have endeavoured, so far as in me lay, to follow and not to go before the inclinations of His leading hand. If I have been mistaken in this, I have been mistaken in all my calculations for the inscrutable future. I have a rich feast, too, in the recollection of the past ; but at the time, He who knows when to lay on chastisement and when to remove it, did not suffer me to forget Himself amid the glories of that nature, whose associa- tions are so much linked with various forms of heathen- ism. I left Italy, I trust, in many ways a wiser man ; and now in Germany I am seeking to follow the same pillar of cloud by day and fire by night, as even figura- tively I may appropriate it, and finding, I may add, the same indications of His love and care as my conscience and past experience tell me T most need. They are alluded to in Heb. xii. ... * * I could say much to you of religious matters in Wiirtemberg, in Germany, also of Tiibingen, but space forbids. God willing, I am here for the winter ; but in the loss of B. M., I feel myself bereaved, as you may suppose. Pray write me here, and soon. Give him my fervent love: I shall answer his dear letter soon. Remember me, too, again to Mrs. Balfour, to your brothers ; to Cleghom, and all friends, to whom I am as Lazarus in more respects than one. — Accept again my congratulations and fervent well-wishes, and believe me, my dear Robert, ever your affectionate friend, * John Mackintosh. *P.S. — How dark the horizon of the Continent — of ' The rest of this letter will be found in the Appendix, ii Hi yohn Mackintosh, 421 Ihe world ! The thunders about to break out are con- trolled by no human hand !' There was one Christian friend then near Mackintosh, and who still resides in Stuttgart, to whom he alludes in several of his letters, and whose motherly love to him, when he stood most in need of it, will be ever green in the memory of his family ; and to her he thus wrote : — -t\ SI s in ace in may him on. our am my me. -of TO MISS HODGES. ♦Tubingen, Nov. 14. * I have received several kind messages from you and the others, and so shall no longer deny myself the plea- sure of writing you a few lines. You have had sorrow among you, for which I feel ; but I trust that the Lord Himself has bound up the broken heart. What chiefly grieves me, is the tidings communicated to me to-day of Madame Serre being so poorly. I trust this is due to transient causes ; but it is well to be prepared, and to accept of every monitor. Whatever brings our naturally callous souls into closer contact with God and the un- seen world, must be good. Well for those who have been taught to live dependent every day for life, and breath, and all things, on the great source, when that source is our Father and our Lord. But God's dealings are so merciful with us, that as we approach eternity He usually gives us that which through life we have alter- nately possessed and lost through the infirmity of oul natures. May such be the blessed experience of Madame Serre ! May the Saviour reveal Himself to her through the Spirit, in all his attractiveness and mediatorial suffi- ciency, as the bearer of her sins and sanctifier of her soul, as He who is God and man, and whose presence makes heaven. 422 Memorials of * I have little personally to tell you ; my heart homes itself among you at Stuttgart ; and the thought of seeing you all again, makes the time fly quickly, and affords a delicious break in the winter prospect. My friends here are very kind, and become dearer and dearer.'. • • i TO THE SAME, */^0V. 23. *Your little packet was duly put into my hands on Thursday morning. I am not worthy of your regard or solicitude, but receive it as from the Lord. Thanks, thanks for your very great kindness. . . . ' How happy I am to hear of Madame Serre being again raised up ! If it please God, I trust we shall have a rejoicing house at the season of sober joy and Chris- tian mirth. I trust, too, that Miss.B. will have received comforting news of her sister's health, so that no brow may be clouded. For my own health, it is much as it was. I am next to certain that, with God's blessing, my native air or any cold climate would quite restore me ; but I always think (23d November) winter must come, and that is my native air wherever I find it ; and then the advantages which I see from continuing my studies yet a little while abroad, while, once home, it would be almost impossible to come away again. I en- deavour to know the Lord's will, and think that I am ready to do whatever He plainly indicates to me. In spite of cough and weakness, my head is clear for study ; and this makes some little progress, so that here is the temptatirn. But enough of a mauvais sujet. 'Last Ljnday I thought I descried, in church, a stentorian head and throat that might serve for ten men, which could only belong to one individual in these yofui Mackintosh, 4»3 parts — T mean Dr. Knapp. The mystery was soon ex- plained to me by Carl Rieger, who had met him with his bride. The latter appears to have captivated him much, and I wish them much happiness. How nice that German practice of iSting everything with flowers, and green leaves, and boughs ot trees, so that external nature is always made to minister to joy. I doubt not it was so in Eden, and will be so again universally.' ! TO HIS MOTHER. ♦Tubingen, Nov. 28. * My darling Mother, — I received your second most dear letter a few days ago. It is a luxury to write to you ; but you fully see now there must be intervals, as I have not only Scotland, but the different halts I* have made in my travels to correspond with. Would I could take a run to you at coming Christmas ! but I must content myself with thinking of a short visit to Stuttgart (only four hours' drive from here), where I shall pro- bably go, not for its own attractions, but to enjoy the sight and intercourse of a happy family — part French, part English, part German — whom I came to know while there in September. The centre of this group is a French pastor's widow, Madame de Coutouly ; very Christian and very engaging. She has a quantity of little French boys and French girls, who frequent school, and so speak German too. Her mother, an elderly Genevese lady, lives with her among the grandchildren ; but the chief attraction is an English lady. Miss Hodges, such a refined, kind motherly character, as could only be produced across the channel. . . . * Nowhere do I picture you so well, or speak to you in spirit so freely, as at Laurel Bank, where it «eems to \\ 424 Memorials of me you enjoy and are sensible of many blessings. O once more to share them with you ! and this I look forward to in the Lord's goodness. I never felt you unequal in spiritual things to my experience, but the reverse, as I think I have expressly told you ; but I am naturally somewhat silent, and often felt my joy to be complete to be with you in the same house, in the same room, though we should not directly speak except at intervals. On the whole, however, I think we had many sweet hours and walks together, and the Lord grant they be only interrupted for a season ! What I thirst to read is Chalmers's Life; one of the few men whom I love and reverence almost to idolatry. Ever since I came here, I have been possessed with an enor- mous zeal for study. "Nothing new," you will say; but it seems new, while the fields opened up to me are so new ; and at home I often forced myself to read from duty — the will taking more the leap than the actual appetite. Church History, or better, the History of Christ's kingdom in its first founding by Himself and His immediate followers, as well as down the stream of the intervening centuries — this is perhaps under various points of view my chief present study. There is a very distinguished Roman Catholic Professor of Church His- tory here — for Tiibingen has a seminary for Roman Catholic as well as for Protestant students of Theology ; and as at Rome, the lectures were discontinued, until shortly before I left, owing to the state of the city. I take the opportunity here of hearing what he has to say for himself and for his Church. Through his lectures I have been led to read some of the writings of the earliest Christians which still remain, and to remark in them, on the one hand, the great disparity between i John Mackintosh, 425 their letters and those of a Paul or a John ; but, on the other hand, the beauty, simpUcity, and freshness of much which they contain, as well as the testimony they bear to the gospel narrative. All this is good and valuable, for we are too apt, in Scotland, to feel at least as if Christianity appeared and ended in the period comprised within the New Testament ; and then reap- peared first again in Scotland at the Reformation. We know better indeed ; but it is well to feel it by making acquaintance with the Christians themselves. But the fields of study are endless, and all I can hope to do is to pave the way for traversing them afterwards one by one, should the Lord permit, and as He leads me. The knowledge of German is for this indispensable, as they alone have gone profoundly into the past, and brought to light a mass of knowledge, that throws light on Scrip- ture, and every department of study.' ' TO A. BURN MURDOCH, ESQ. * Tubingen, Dec. 7. * I do not doubt that the Lord has yet work for you in store, for which he is disciplining you, as the old monk said to Luther. There is a discipline of the spirit, through which we learn far more than can be taught by books, or than mere book-learning can give. This will throw more light upon the Word of Grod than all other studies, and yet this should be their chief end ; and it can prepare better for winning souls and feeding those won, than all other preparation — ^which is yet ostensibly the object of students of Theology. This you well know, and, I doubt not, have found your consolation in it, albeit for the present the trial is grievous. Even in an intellectual point of view, periods of, so to speak, involun- 5 1! 4^6 Memorials of taiy repose are highly useful Our faculties will not bear constant straining, and if not suddenly cut off, I believe that every man can only accomplish a certain amount in life, be it all at once, or be it by fits and starts, or be it gradually. Scherer is only another instance of this. He worked with all his might for some ten years ; and then the capacity gave way, and he must lie nearly fallow for the next two. In my own humble sphere, I find that after a time of compelled idleness, I can make more out of a book in a day, than just at present, for instance, I can in two ; but all this prosing is just to remind you of a fact, which may assure you that your time is not at present lost When God restores you, you will take your revenge on future hours. . . . Soon after the Kirchentag, and a long inspection of the Stuttgart gymnasia, schools, etc., I made a short excursion to Komthal, of which you may remember to have read in Scherer's Reformation. It is a small village, situated in a commonplace sort of valley, some miles to the north of Stuttgart, and was founded in 1818, with royal permission, by a number of families who were displeased with Rationalist changes then intro- duced into the church worship, specially its psalmody and liturgy, and so thought of leaving the countiy. A shrewd and pious buigomaster, named Hoffmann (father of the Stiffs Ephorus here, and late of Basel), managed the whole affair. The colonists are chiefly of the working classes, but some of higher rank have since joined the community, which, somewhat like the Hermhuters, is distinguished from others by a daily church service, frequent brotherly conferences — or Erbauungs-stunden, as they are called, and a very strict and peaceful outward life. I was very much pleased with the various arrange- ments and individuals of the community. The pastor is yohn Mackintosh, 427 a very dear man. He also presides over a very excellent and economical establishment for young ladies. The vorsteher or provost, the schoolmaster, the hausvater of a Poor Children's Institution, the masters of a Boys' Boarding-house — the patriarchs of the village, besides others having no official position — all had their individu- ality as Christians and men, which came out in the various Christian conferences and in private intercourse ; and yet all had a oneness of love and aim, that made the private and social exhibition of the life of God a very real and a very beautiful thing. I stayed a fortnight there, and then left it with regret, back to a more solitary working out of the Christian idea, which should yet also, when possible, be a social one. The old men, in parti- cular, reminded me much of some Scottish worthies whom I know, and who are also not rare with us ; but I must remark of them, as of my Christian friends generally in Wiirtemberg, that their piety strikes me as more biblical and less doctrinal or confessional than ours. Christ is always the beginning, end, and centre of their love and confidence. I enjoyed in Stuttgart another opportunity of witnessing an assembly of pastors — a voluntary meet- ing of the evangelically disposed in Wiirtemberg, which takes place twice a year for mutual edification, chiefly as it has no church authority; but also for the discussion of public matters which they can further indirectly. There were some seventy or eighty present, and the meeting was delightful. * The theological subject to which I have chiefly buckled myself, is what is here called Einleitungy and this for the New Testament It relates to the history, authorship, caiionicity, and text of the various books — a very important subject at present, as you know, and lift ■J. I ■II • _ , f,j-, . i;*!* i ik J 428 Memorials of standing at the threshold. I am reading Hug; but gather views and information wherever I can. There are some very good exegetical lectures in both seminaries which I should like to attend, and by and by perhaps may, to learn at least their method, since I cannot now hope to have so gone through with a Professor, many of the books ere entering on their practical exposition. Dogmatik and Symboliky I must also at present defer ; but oh ! I blush on all these heads, when I see the superior acquaintance of the German students: not, however, that they are on that account, somehow or other, better qualified than ours for pastoral work. The Lutheran Church, in its doctrine and workings, is for me an interesting phenomenon ; but at present I am becom- ing acquainted with it chiefly through observation and conversation. I see more and more how much might be learned advantageously with my opportunities, but sigh daily that there are not some with me who, through superior capacity (though not will !) could make a tenfold better use of them than I can do ; yet I trust they will not altogether be thrown away. The Professors whom I know are very kind. My friends among the Repetents (I think I have explained to you who they are) are like- wise so, and give me books and all I can desire. I have formed, too, some nice acquaintances among the students ; and enjoy particularly a prayer-meeting some of them have twice a week, in one of their rooms, on Sundays and Thursdays, on the latter of which, a pious Repetent presides with very great benefit to its edifica- tion. Finally, I live for work, and find the days fly ; but after all, the result is small. I have omitted to men- tion to you that with Hefele, I am reading through the JPatres Apostolici, and find them very interesting.' John Mackintosh, 429 TO MISS HODGEa * December 13. * My dear Miss Hodges, — I have waited a few days before acknowledging your last " rebuke," that I might be able to say something about it I say rebuke^ for I feel myself unworthy of your concern, being a very sorry fellow at best, and your kindness smites me as something I don't deserve. Nevertheless, I will not deny there is something very, very grateful to the spirit in it, when one is far from home ; and I shall therefore only thank you anew, and take the liberty of feeling a good deal more than I express. This glorious bracing frost has sent health and energy through all my veins, which I trust will last, and for which I thank God. * I cannot, therefore, say how far the remedy is due to the new breakfast diet ; but this I will say, that it is most capital stuff; and I want my friend Carl Rieger, whom the name Racahout tickled very much, to come soon, and know it by experience. Again, then, many thanks ; — and to talk of sending more ! . . . *I have a strange feeling as if I were going home at Christmas, but it is only to Stuttgart; and yet the knowledge of you, and your dear family circle there, has something in it very hotnish. I trust the Lord will give me as much happiness as I anticipate, for through Him all blessings flow. It is a time of joy, but must begin to be pervaded with what is heavenly.' TO HIS SISTER, LADY GORDON GUMMING. • Tubingen, Dec. 21. *My darling Jenny, . . . Let me wish you joy, and congratulate you on the birth of a son. May the time come when I shall see them all three under the shadow i H '1 \% \ \ :| 1 11 i ai iA 43® Memorials of of their mother! To be sure, I admire human beinga more than anything else upon earth, and would now sooner undertake a journey to see your little oijes than to see Rome ; and you may take me at my word. In truth, I yearn to see you again, and the old woman who is perhaps still with you, and the native land ; and God bring it about in His own good time ! ' My life, since I cast root here, has been so entirely devoid of outward incident, that I fear it wovtld little interest you. I find very inviting fields of study opened up on all sides, through the key of knowing German, and the incitement of lectures and learned society. Whether I shall bear much harvest away with me, my feebleness of body and mind makes me sometimes doubtful. The studies, however, once begun, can be carried on through life, if that be granted. I have the old struggle with existence, for which I am not unthankful, as it reminds me there is a world to come, and that we are but pilgrims and wayfarers here, and so my story ends. * The natives of Wiirtemberg think it the most lovely country in the world. With an eye pampered as mine has been, I can see little distinguished beauty in any part I have yet visited; but I have not yet seen the Black Forest — and that is its crown. Give me but a blink of the Moray Firth, as you have it fi-om Price's or the Lethen hill — the old cry of " Let's push on the ponies, or we'll be dead late !" — six o'clock on a glorious August evening, just descending on Barclay's church — with the Ross and Cromarty hills, and the bay, and the Strathglass hills sawing the western horizon, and the Nairn spire in the foreground ! — ^give me but a blink of this, I say, once more, and I know not but I will let you wipe the puiple Apennines and the Mediterranean, 'John Mackintosh, 43 > ovely mine any the ut a ice's the lOUS ;h— the the of let an, and old Rome itself, completely out of my remembrance. Nay, my heart turns sick at the bare thought ; and if a sound sleep does not sober my spirit, must take out my place by to-morrow's Eilwagen^ to see once more a paradise that needs no restoring. Forgive this sally, but, citizen of the world, I am offspring of old Scotland, dust of her dust, and Jenny's doating, doating brother I I am going to Stuttgart for a few days at Christmas, to pick up a little English in a family I know there. All happiness and every blessing be with you ! Greet Sir William and all your bairns from me ; and the old lady also, should she still be with you, and whose birthday I shall not fail to remember. Think sometimes on your superannuated brother, and send him a stave if you have leisure, pen, and paper, permitting and believing him to be in extenso^ Mackintosh spent the Christmas holidays, and entered upon 1 85 1, with his friends Madame de Coutouly and Miss Hodges, at Stuttgart He returned immediately afterwards to Tubingen. TO MISS HODGES. * Tubingen, Jan. 4. * My very dear Miss Hodges, — In spirit 1 am with you still at Stuttgart, and it seems even strange to write to you instead of speaking. How sweetly those days flew by-— all too fast ! but I feel that for me they have not been unprofitable — their effect I still feel, and hope long to feel with still deeper impressioa I mean, that not to speak of the merely natural joy arising out of the sight of a happy united Christian family, in all stages ot the progress of life, as well as of spiritual development, I derived from the example of Madame de Coutouly I TA ■.'■4 43* Memorials of and others, and from my intercourse with you, I trust a fresh impulse to make the Lord my friend and example, and to live in humble, admiring, self-forgetting fellow- ship with Him. You have known, I have no doubt, what it is to have the spirit sometimes barren ; so that that Book which was formerly better than thousands of gold and silver; and that Name, which to them that know it is as ointment poured forth, and that com- munion which makes earth a heaven is no longer what it was. The Christian, after some experience, knows that this state, though mournful and burdensome, does not argue so much as it at first sight seems to do. How precious, however, when the dew once more descends from heaven upon his soul, and he is melted under the renewed pledge of his Father's love, and can only sit at the feet of Jesus to admire and praise — anew make him- self over to Him who loved him in his state of sin and death, as He now loves him amid relapses, ingratitude, and unprofitableness. Well, those two contrasted states have lately in some respects been mine, and I bless God that in this case the second succeeds the first. For this, then, let me thank Madame de Coutouly and you ; although I do not wish you to express it to her. You may, however, say how grateful I am for all her most un- deserved kindness and forbearance — a gratitude which, like most of my countrymen, I have almost a pride in feeling deeply, and expressing feebly. May the blessing of the Great Father rest on all your dear family ! I send love to each, and whoever seems to prize it most may receive a double shaie. The joumey/n^w Stuttgart was very different from that to it ; and the night-travel- lers seem to have felt the same. A thick fog accom- panied and received me. ... I am so glad I know 'John Mackintosh, 433 your little room, and the history of its portrait gallery. May the Lord reward you for all your kindness, and if I be a disciple, He no doubt will 1 — So prays daily your very attached friend, John Mackintosh.' \\ \ I )St irt ;1. ►w TO HIS SISTER, MRS. SMITH. •TuiUNr.EN, Jan. la * I was truly delighted to receive your letter, so kindly thought of at this season ; and, to show my gratitude, lose no timo in answering it I do indeed give thanks to God with you for His wonderful goodness in restoring you so thoroughly, and I humbly pray and trust that the tender heart, the obedient will, the childlike confidence in Him, which the Spirit of God begets in us, when we are first brought out of sore trial, may, by your diligence and constant dependence on His grace, be perpetuated and kept alive in you. There is no life so blessed, as every Christian knows, as that of a daily communion with our Father in Christ. None, alas ! so prone '\\\- sensibly to degenerate into form and routine, when the real effluence of heaven is no more. . . . *I should greatly enjoy to hav» been with you, in Dorsetshire, to see the old English Christmas customs, where they are perhaps best preserved. How foolishly do people write of other countries spoiling us for our own ! I cry and moan daily lor the inferiority of every- thing here (and elsewhere, where 1 have been at this and other seasons), to what my memory retains of the dear old land ; not but that the practice of the Christ Tree (which 1 am told is also to be found in some parts of England), is very pretty, and pleased mc much. At the house in Stuttgart where I was then a guest, a very iplendid one was set up. It is generally a young and 2 £ 1 434 Memorials of verdant fir newly taken up. The branches are glorified with myriads of little tapers, dazzling gold and silver bells, and presents of all kinds to be afterwards dis- tributed. The joy and wonder of the children on being first admitted is indescribable; and what particularly pleased me, old and young are once more placed upon a level, and receive and enjoy their little pose of pre- sents about equally. The belief is, that there is a mysterious connexion between the Christ Child, and all the good things and happiness then enjoyed. The Church here is Lutheran, and resembles very much, in all its rites, the Church of England ; so that there was no lack of holy reminiscence furnished by church ser- vices, y^/w, etc. . . . * The inexhaustible Christian worth of Miss Hodges captivated me, and did me more good spiritually than perhaps all else. I am now once more at Tiibi ^ r - in all outward respects a highly »;ienjoyabIe place. I often think how little one person is qualified to judge of another's condition or of another's duty. If you knew, dearest, how your sharp but not lasting suffering does not perhaps come up to mine — spread over my life through a body not acutely ill — but seldom well, and often weighing down mind and soul ; you would not fancy that my life was all enjoyment, either here or in Italy, or except at favoured intervals. I have a high object in staying abroad, which, so far as I am not de- ceived, has God's approval ; because it has His service alone in view, but nothing else would induce me to rough it as I do.' TO THE REV. N. MACLEOD. 'TuBiNC.EN, ')an. 23, 1851. *. . , I have never known, nor expect to know, • !:i r yohn Mackintosh. 435 finer developed people than the Christians of Wiirtem- berg. They have the advantage of learning their Christianity rather from the Bible than Confessions, and so it takes a healthy, simple, undoubting form, which with us too often, by gentle and simple, is wanting. Not that our folk study the Confession for themselves ; no, the/ read their Bibles, but it is the teaching of the school and of the pulpit, so unceasing, that colours all their views ; and so, in general, reduces the matter to one dead level, where it would be hard to say, if asked, which is the cardinal doctrine of Christianity. The Bible, if read in its own light, leaves one in no doubt about it. It is Jesus Christ manifest in the flesh, suf- fering on the cross, received up into glory ; and, for the sinner, all others should have weight as they have more or less nearly to do with this. Our system, however, begins with the eternal decree, and leads us on to final judgment ; so that, in fact — I have experienced it — the awakened sinner does not know at first whither to turn — to election, or to what ; and perhaps only after long searching, is Christ Himself, he knows not how, pre- sented to his eyes, exhumed as it were from this long and artfully-linked catena; but I have mixed my meta- phor, and must for " exhumed " write " disengaged." How beautiful the confidence of the Christian's approach to God here — Lieber Vaierl he cannot doubt, for His love sent Jesus — Dti treiier Hciland ! We have still very Jewish, distant, and awful thoughts of (jod. ^Ve see Him not enough in the Son, and very few and im- perfect thoughts of the Son, who yet must be our life. The other " doctrines," as we call them, if they do not shut Him out, seem to throw Him into the background, as effectually as do the " saints " of the Roman Catholic Church. When will it be otherwise, and our religion % n ti 'in 43^ Memorials of become a more simple and a more loving one ! This will only be when we adhere to the Bible, as our text- book, more closely in school and pulpit, and learn our Christianity and Theology there, Tiherc everything has its due prominence. 1 recognise this as the grand result of German experience ; and yet it is but a return to the principle of the Reformation, too soon, however, aban- doned. Now as then, and ever, the Bible must be mighty to the pulling down of strongholds (be they what they may), and the building up of a sound and living piety. There was long, and still is, a' tendency favoured by Schleiermacher and even the Moravians, to detach Christ from the Bible ; but the evil consequences of this are seen, — and now a Bible, that is, a Christian Theology, is the cry. Forgive this long dissertation, dear Norman, but it has been involuntary. For the " thousand little unremembered acts of love and charity," this people is to be loved. I need not specify, though my heart would.' The time was now, alas ! rapidly approaching when those letters which for years had been welcomed by his friends, could be written by John Mackintosh no more ; when those delightful studies, in which from his youth he had engaged with so much ardour, could be pursued no more — no more at least here in this earthly school ; and when those delightful labours which he daily longed, as a minister of Christ's Church, to share with his brethren at home, and for which he had prepared him- self with such untiring earnestness, were to be resigned — though doubtless only for others higher and nobler elsewhere, in the great and wide kingdom of His loving Lord. I 'John Mackintosh, 437 The wound received on that fatal day in spring, while ascending to Arpino, had ever since been doing its work of destruction, with no little pain and weariness to the patient sufferer. Only in his Diary, written for himself alone, is there any direct evidence of such sufferings; for while sensitively shrinking from making himself at any time the topic of conversation, he had always a peculiar repugnance to allude to his bodily ailments ; and even now, when these had, for the first time in his life, assumed a character which greatly alarmed his friends abroad, yet, from ignorance of his imminent danger, and an unwillingness prematurely to alarm his family, and thus probably induce some of them to un- dertake a journey in the midst of winter, in order to afford that assistance which, in his opinion, was not then required — he avoided mentioning the feeble state of his health in any of his letters, except to two of his corre- spondents, on whom he enjoined the strictest secrecy. He thus, for example, wrote to his friend Professor Forbes, dated Tubingen, January 21) : — * I long very much to see you again, and must explain why I am still here and not at home. My object throughout in my ex- patriation has been, God knows, not to enjoy myself, but to qualify myself as far as possible for his future ser- vice,' and then, after giving some details about his health, he adds, *my strength is therefore much diminished, and I have some unpleasant symptoms in my right lung. The doctor, however, whom I consult, counsels me not to move, and I therefore wait, trusting through care and the blessing of God to overcome once more what seems dangerous. You will pardon my writing at such length about myself, as you ask me to be explicit, and I feel towards you as a father. I again beg you earnestly to keep my secret entirely to yourself, as it would only ll % '4. li' 438 Memorials of cause premature and fruitless anxiety were my dear mother to know it ... I beg your prayers, my dear sir, and your counsel, although, of course, I must be somewhat guided by my physician here ; and again, earnestly urging you to secrecy, I remain, your grateful and attached J. M.* And thus also to Mr. Hamilton, who was still re- siding in Berlin : — •TuRiNGEN, Fel>. 5, 1851. * You are a man, and I may therefore trust you with a secret — if yon betray me, I have done with you ! Well then, in ill-fated Italy, — certainly in part through my own folly in walking from Rome to Naples (over en- chanted ground), with a heavy knapsack on my back, amid the rains of spring, — I contracted a bad cough. The summer months here greatly restored me ; but the fatal weather we have had since October — constant rains and fogs, and damp sunshine — have renewed it with such virulence, that my strength is well-nigh quite gone, and I am full of pains. I have not thought it advisable to tell any of my friends of it, as the Lord may yet bring me through ; and at this season of the year, they could only be anxious, and do nothing. Therefore you are on your parole, as you value my friendship. For this weak- ness* sake, you will forgive a shortish letter. My friends here, especially among the Repetents or Theological Fellows, are unceasing in their kindness ; and indeed, if I recover, I shall be glad from all sides to have learned the deep heart of the Christians of this little country — for my sphere of acquaintance is pretty wide. My studies are, of course, sadly interrupted ; but my zeal hunts like a red-hot coal^ and I have learned, and am yet learning, things in my sore suffering, which affliction only can 'John Mackintosh, 439 -il teach, or, I might say, the Spirit of God only through affliction. I desire your prayers.' But having thus written of himself, he resumes, in the same letter, the old favourite theme of study, as if many years, instead of only a few weeks of litie, were yet in store for him ! — ' For many years I have had perhaps, alas ! the same centrifugal tendency as yourself, that is, I studied my Bible and cultivated my heart : but took more readily to any other study than Theology, partly feeling that other studies were the outworks, and had an indirect bearing on it, so naturally I began at the bottom with those first : and partly that Theology must be the study of my after-life, and they could probably find no place there. Here, however, I was weaning myself from this influence, or at least keeping it in the background ; and under the stimulus of good lectures, which are better here than with you, fairly buckling myself to the subject. The ex- cessive ferment of opinion, too, where there are, as here, Roman Catholics, Protestants, Christians, Hegelians, and all shades of thinking, have set me keen on edge, and many a book, which, when I was in the Hall, scarcely awoke a feeling in my mind, I should now devour. In fact, I am enamoured now of theological study, in all its branches ; " yet not the more cease I to wander where the Muses haunt" — poetry, literature, phi- losoi)hy, have also their undying charms, and I should like to have the strength of ten men to study them as I could wish : — but who is writing ? at present the hun- dredth part of a man, and one who even at best is weak, except in will. Now I must stop, and trust, should God bring us together, to tell you of the Theologians here/ etc. II 440 Memorials of Various entries in his Diary, during the period of his sojourn in Wiirtemberg, disclose the state of his health. He says, as far back as * Sufiday^ June 30. — (Stuttgart) — Walk and medita- tion in gardens at six in the evening. Returned about eight. During this walk I reviewed the past, with much self-recrimination for these latter months ; when, how- ever, illness, weakness, travelling, and many other causes, have combined to throw me back in spirit. Lord, have mercy upon me j anew I endeavour to make myself over to Him, to renounce self, and to consult entirely His will ! Graciously bring those desires and resolutions to perfection, Heavenly Father, for Jesus Christ's sake !* Subsequent entries tell of increasing illness of body, and increasing confidence in God. * Saturday, July 13. — I think I am substantially better, though still very delicate, and requiring the utmost care and attention. A slight exertion is enough to tell me that both my lungs are more or less affected. God grant this entirely pass away, if such be His will I My soul has not been so lively as it was last week ; bui yet I feel drawn to V o^ 4^ ^ > "9,^ 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. 14580 (716) 872-4503 w L

take from speech its edge '— . ^=^:*d^^-^-'^-tHeba;,ad.the *My wound is deen • T r • jj.etHouth:^;^^-rt^; A^demebythebmkenbush ^ iiiat grows on yonder %e lee. to 466 Memorials of * O bury me by the braken bush, Beneath the blooming brier, Let never living mortal ken That ere a kindly Scot lies here !* In this manner, and on such rare occasions only, did he speak of his death. In recalling those days at Canstadt I cannot remem- ber a single instance of selfishness in word or deed, shown by John Mackintosh, which for a moment dark- ened the sunshine of gentle love in which he lived and moved. As far as unceasing pain would permit, he seemed entirely to forget himself and his sufferings, in his unwearying thoughtfulness about others. This was seen in his innumerable little acts of considerateness about everything which might please or contribute to the happiness of those around him, or in any way lighten that burden which his state could not but impose upon them, however cheerfully borne ; and the same feeling was constantly manifested in the kind expressions with which he received those attentions which he necessarily required, but never in any degree exacted. I cannot help relating here a characteristic instance of his unselfish thoughtfulness about others. * Go to Stutt- gart,' he said one day to me, and handing me a list of things worth seeing, which he had noted down in pencil, added, * Now be sure and see those things, and tell me all about them. Call also at Ne£f's, the bookseller, and ask him for the parcel I left with him, and bring it to me ; till then I won't tell you what it is.' On asking the bookseller for the said parcel, I was told that Mr. Mac- kintosh had given such particular orders about its de- livery, that without a written order he was pledged not to give it up to any one, and give it up to me he would yohn Mackintosh, 467 not ! The written order having been obtained, to satisfy the conscientious bookseller, the parcel was brought down upon a subsequent day ; and proved to be Vasis* large panoramic view of Rome, which John in spite of weakness and weariness had as I find in his Diary, * hunted Rome' to obtain for me the day before leaving it, and had carried with no small inconvenience during all his journey northward, and now presented himself, * to be hung up in my study !' There it now hangs, the memento of a kindness which ever busied itself how to gratify others, and which I have never seen equalled. Till the last moment of his life he embraced every opportunity of doing good by fitting words of counsel or of comfort. There were different periods in the day which were generally chosen by him for seeing each of us alone, as this was less fatiguing than always having us together. For instance, he sent for his mother first after breakfast ; then for his sister ; while the night-time was my peculiar portion. On such occasions he became more personal and earnest in his communications. One night, fbr example, when all had retired to bed, I was with him alone ; when sitting with his hands clasped upon his knees, his eyes shut, and his head bent forward, he thus addressed me in short sentences — spoken under breath, uttered slowly, and very solemnly : — * Humble yourself as a little child. Follow your Master — do not go before. Pray, pray, pray without ceasing ; wrestle in prayer with God. Our natural temperament cannot be destroyed, it must be regulated. Walk in the Spirit, that will do it. " If any one will follow me," says our Lord, " let him take up his cross daily''' " Be holy, for I am holy." Oh ! it is not easy to realize the life of God in us all the day.' *Have you been able to do it? I 468 Memorials of asJced. He nodded and smiled. * It was long with me,' he replied, * a fearful battle. With every one it is a sore battle at first But it must be done ; and when done,* he added, opening his eyes and with an expression of joy, * it is inexpressibly — inexpressibly delightful 1' ' We should have our house,' he continued after a pause, 'well ordered before God. Everything in it should as much as possible reflect heaven ; for heaven must in everything begin here. We should esteem in our house the Bible as the best, the sweetest book. I love the custom, in pious families in Wurtemberg, of reading it after dinner. We must daily live above carnal joys. The Spirit of God must pervade every- thing, that we may live holy, live calmly, and' — again opening his eyes and speaking emphatically — * live cheerfully. When disposed to- exceed in anything, we should pause and ask such questions as these : — Will this please God ? Will it grieve the Spirit of God that dwelleth in me ? O the blessedness of the divine life !' * How think you shall it be best attained ?' I asked. * I should say, begin soon with prayer. Let your first thoughts in bed be given to God. When you rise kneel down and humble yourself before God as a child, that He may lead you all the day long. Think of God when you are dressing. After that, read, meditate and pray. Prayer should never be put off till after breakfast.' Then rising up in his chair, looking with great earnestness, and speaking with energy, he said, * This I have found to be of inexpressible importance. If our devotions are deferred till the interruption^ of the forenoon, the devil may get on our back, and ride us all day!' *I love,' he added, 'to give God my first, my clearest, my fi-eshest thoughts and hours.' On asking him more particularly as to his own yohn Mackintosh. 469 method of devotion, he said, ' I commune with God through His Word anil Spirit. I do not on such occa- sions read critically. If difficulties present themselves, in the meantime I pass them by. When any verse occurs which is peculiarly suitable to myself I dwell upon it As I read, I cry constantly to God for His Spirit After that I pray at length. I have no prescribed time ; but try and enjoy it as long as possible. Last winter in my reading, I confined myself to the three Gospels. I am now reading through John's Gospel. I have been living and feasting on the life of Christ' As I sat listening, in the deep silence of night, to those utterances addressed to me by one who had lived the truth which he knew, and was now in perfect peace, going to meet Him whom he had long sought and served with so much earnestness and love, my spirit felt no less than awed before him ; and what he then spoke to me, I that same night wrote down, that when perusing it, if spared to do so, in future years, it might quicken me to greater diligence in following his steps ; and as the words were then written, so are they now given to the world, that others may learn of him, and know how true and good he was, and by what means his rare excellence was attained, and his great peace enjoyed. In this same spirit of seeking to benefit others, he often addressed his sister, perhaps in a few words breathed into her ear, when bending over him to bid good-night * Good-night, my pet Seek God as a little child. Be humble. Speak to ^qsms face to face.' Or, 'Be instant in prayer, dearie. Pray always for a broken spirit. See how infinitely above this world's joys Christ is. Persevere — fear not — God will do it ' To his mother he spoke as a son, words of strength 470 Memorials of and comfort ; with humble acknowledgments of any defects in conduct he might have exhibited, when under her more immediate charge. He was fond also of hear ing from her the most minute details of all the people about Geddes, especially those with whom he had en- joyed Christian fellowship. The arrival of the post was always welcome, as bring- ing letters from friends, and news of home. He also wrote to several of his old correspondents ; at first by scrolling himself a pencil copy of what he wished his sister to write for him ; and latterly, when his strength failed, by dictating to her. He mentioned also the names of many to whom he desired letters should be written, if he became so unwell as to be himself unfit for the discharge of this duty. These letters told all the same tale, of an illness which he knew must be fatal, and also of a peace which he knew nothing could ever take away ! Two or three weeks before his death, he dictated the following — his last — letter to his friend Professor Forbes : — * Mv VERY DEAR SiR, — The kindness of your letter overpowered me, but more, it sustained and comforted me. Since I wrote you, I have indeed been brought very low, and think my end must be soon. I suffer greatly from pain in the spine, which has been weakened by so much expectoration. So sometimes I can find rest in no position ; yet the Lord has never yet tried me above what He gave me strength to bear, and His good- ness to me is infinite. This light affliction over, and then His own presence ! *My family are a great comfort to me. Your name is yohn Mackintosh. 47» written on my heart, and I can never forget all you* gentleness and kindness. If it be the Lord's will to take me home, it is my joy to think that we part only for a season. I would have written you sooner, had not our removal to this place prevented me. I desire to be most kindly remembered to Mrs. Forbes and the dear children ; and ever am your devotedly attached and grateful J. M. ^P.S. — I know I have your daily prayers. The ground of my confidence is the alone merits of my dear Redeemer.' ' I was now, alas ! obliged to part from my friend and to return to Scotland. When \ left home, upon the nth of February, I had little hope of being able to remain with him till the nth of March — for I was then on the eve of removing from my former to my present charge. But the political difficulties which at that time hindered the formation of a ministry, and the appoint- ment consequently of a Home Secretary, delayed also the issuing of my presentation, without which my trans- lation could not take place; and thus my sojourn abroad was extended to a period much longer than I could possibly have anticipated. But letters received from home now seemed to demand my immediate presence ; yet they placed me in trying circumstances, in which it was not easy to decide between conflicting duties and conflicting feelings. I resolved to refer my case to my friend, well knowing how wisely and unselfishly he would advise me. The day after I did so, he called me to him, and said, *I have thought calmly and prayerfully over all you have told me ', my verdict is, go I If I thought that my end was near, I would as decidedly 472 Memorials of say stay^ that you might be with me to the last But I think it probable that I may live for a month yet. So we must part now. Then, besides your arrangements about Glasgow, your people in Dalkeith may require you. There may be sick ones wishing to see you; your sister is alone, etc. etc. Then, after saying some loving things about the time we had spent together, he added : * The Spirit of God, the Teacher and Comforter, is with me. You know now all my feelings, and just act with a good conscience.* I saw Dr. J. upon the the loth, and he also said that it was quite possible he might yet live several weeks, and that certainly he did not think him near death. As I could not, therefore, 'with a good conscience,' remain so long as to have the satisfaction of being with him and his family * to the last,' I resolved to leave him early on the morning of the nth. The evening before, he seemed to have considerably revived. He had been able, but not without much effort, prompted by love to others, to sit several times during the previous days to an artist for his likeness. This last day he had enjoyed music and reading, and we met as usual in his room for family devotion, feeling indeed that we should never again all praise God together in this world. But in the middle of the night he suffered so much from his harassing cough, that I sat beside him, and remained with him till morning. In reply to my inquiries when I entered his room, he said, * I have endured agonies of body for the last two hours ; but they have not affected my spirit — I have perfect peace. Could I sing, I would sing, " Glory to God ! " ' He then asked me to read some hymns and passages of Scripture to him from time to time, and also yohn Mackintosh. 473 to pray with him. And thus the night passed ; and the morning came ; and soon six o'clock struck — the hour at which I must leave him. Of our parting, I shall not speak. But I little thought at the time that God had graciously permitted me to begin with him his last day upon earth ! I left him in charge of Jane Miller, Mrs. Mackintosh's old and valued attendant, who had accompanied her on her journey ; and who, when at Geddes, had almost in- deed been the sick-nurse of Mr. Mackintosh during his last illness. Miller found him very restless ; nor could she by the unwearied application of the prescribed remedies afford any ease to his oppressed chest and pained body, which ' suffered everywhere.' He asked her to read hymns and texts of Scripture to strengthen him; and afterwards inquired much about his father : — * Did he suffer much ? As much as he did ? Was he as impatient as he was % Did he bear pain better? ' etc His mother and sister came to him early. At break- fast-time, he was able to take some food. His uneasiness continued. As he leant his head upon the back of a chair, on which he asked his mother to sit to be near him, he repeated often the earnest prayer, * Lord, not ray will — not my will — but Thine be done ! ' A letter to him from his friend Professor Forbes, was deUvered by the forenoon post. He expressed a wish to have it read immediately, and was cheered by its contents. It was in reply to the last he had ever written, and was also the last he ever received. Miss Hodges arrived about midday ; and soon after, his oppression in breathing becoming very severe, they began for the first time to think that death was near. 474 Memorials of Miss Hodges said to him, * Jesus is always with you.* 'Sometimes,' he replied. But as she repeated a few texts of Scripture, and prayed at his request, a gleam of joy, marked by all, lighted up his countenance, as, with shut eyes and clasped hand, he smiled, nodding assent to each uttered truth. He asked the window to be opened, and tottering to it in his dressing-gown, had his chair so placed as to be able to extend his arm into the open air. It was a day of great beauty. The sun shone brightly, and with almost a summer heat ; and already the sounds of spring were heard from the birds in the surrounding orchards. The same oppression returned later in the afternoon, in a still more aggravated form. Dr. J., who had been sent for, made him immediately return to bed, and did everything that skill could suggest to relieve him ; but was soon obliged to inform his friends apart, that his end was fast approaching. He lay in silence upon his bed with his eyes shut, and, in silence, all stood around him. About four o'clock, he opened his eyes, and motioned to his mother first, to come near him and kiss him. His sister came next, and he said to her, 'Love Jesus.' And after this, he bade each farewell, and to each repeated the same counsel, ' Love Jesus.' 'Any one else in the room?' he asked. Marie, the kind daughter of the landlady, approached, weeping bitterly. He thanked her for all her goodness to him during his illness, and requested that she should send her mother and sisters up stairs to bid him farewell. They came, and he spoke kindly to them. Having motioned to his sister to sit beside him, he drew her to him, again kissed her, and began to speak to her ; but his lips were cold, and she required to put her ear almost to his mouth to hear what he said. But so calm yohn Mackintosh. 475 and self-possessed was he, that he gave her minute directions even then how to get his portmanteau which he had, months before, sent to Berlin when intending to study there \ and how, too, she could find in it the key of his desk at Lasswade, in which his will was depo- sited. He then requested to know how much she pro- posed giving the doctor, inentioning at the same time a sum which he thought generous and becoming. Then beckoning to the doctor, he thanked him for his great attention, and begged him to tell him truly how long he thought he had to live. The doctor replied, * Perhaps not many minutes.* After a pause, he began to repeat the names of his near relatives — * Jane ; Alick ; Chris ; James ; Ned Smith ; uncle ; my aunts ; Tom. Tell them all to seek Jesus.' Then, in the same way, he enumerated his old friends : * The Professor ; Madden ; Bum Murdoch; Shairp; Boyle; Dr. Duncan; Charles Brown ;' and others, whose names his sister could not distinctly catch. *A11 my friends at Tiibingen,' he added. He spoke about me also. Soon after, he said, * Read.* Miss Hodges took up the Bible — for she deemed the task too trying for either his mother or sister. But he had told his mother some days before, that when it came to the last she was to read to him from a little book containing texts of Scripture selected for the sick and dying, and which he was in the habit of using ; and now, as if remembering this, the moment he heard the voice of Miss Hodges, he opened his eyes, and with earnestness, said, * No. My mother ! my mother !* She was strengthened to minister this comfort also to him. The last things read to him were the first two verses of the 43d chapter of Isaiah, the hymns — •The hour of my departure's come ;' ' Hark, how the 47^ Memorials of adoring hosts above ;' and the 23d Psalm. When these were ended, he said to his sister, *Bury me beside Chalmers ;' and after a short pause, * Jesus ! oh, Jesus !' He then lay again in silence, with a look of deepest calm and peace ; but spoke no more. Once only he opened his eyes, and gazed on all around him, as if bidding them farewell. The setting sun filled the room with a flood of light. At five o'clock, the church- bells were ringing their glad evening chimes; and as they rang, he left his friends on earth, and met his Saviour. They knelt around that quiet bed \ and she who bore him was able to praise the Lord, who had redeemed him and taken him to Himself! ^.^. ^.^^'^*'*^ A few days after this, his remains, now in the metal coffin in which they were to repose in his own country, were conveyed — as the law in Germany required — from the private dwelling in which he died. Two or three German friends followed the bier to its temporary resting-place. Miss Hodges was one of them. They bore him to an old Lutheran Chapel, situated in a picturesque and sequestered spot in the immediate neighbourhood of Canstadt, and which we had often admired. The weather still continued serene, and nothing could exceed the loveliness of that evening. As the small and unknown procession moved along, an organ, somewhere in the town, was pealing out a solemn German hymn, and its echoes, borne upon the silent air, more or less faintly accompanied the mourners on their way. When they reached the Chapel, the moon was dimly visible in the deep blue of the cloudless sky ; and, though the valley was in the shadow, the last rays ^\H yohn Mackintosh. 477 of a gorgeous sunset lighted up with a purple radiance the trees which crested the surrounding hills. The coffin was placed beneath the altar and the cross. Those who laid it there, before departing, stood for a short time around it, apparently engaged in prayer. Upon Sabbath evening, his mother and sister were enabled, in great peace, to spend some time alone beside him. The same kind relative who had accompanied his aunt, Mrs. Mackintosh, when she went to Tiibingen, now returned to Germany, and brought the bereaved ones home. The 9th of April was the day of burial in Scotland. The funeral was a private one \ but permission to follow him to the tomb was cordially given, as requested by themselves, to some of his fellow-students of Divinity from the Free Church College ; and also to a few old friends — many of whose names he had uttered when dying, and which are familiar to the reader. This day of burial was also one of calm beauty, like those which had shone upon him at Canstadt. Arthur's Seat and Salisbury Crags, in the transparent air, appeared to look down upon us. We heard the lark, singing over- head; and all was bright and peaceful, as the com- panions and friends who loved and honoured him, slowly and silently carried him to his grave, and buried hira * beside Chalmers.* ' His memory long will live alone In all our hearts, as mournful light That broods above the fallen sun. And dwells in heaven half the night - * Sleep sweetly, tender heart, in peace! 1. y Sleep, holy spirit, blessed soul, Memorials of While the stars bixrn, the moons increase^ And the great ages onward roll. Sleep till the end, true soul and sweet, Nothing comes to thee new or strange! Sleep full of rest from head to feet ; Lie still, dry dust, secure of change I * A monument was soon after placed over his remains, having this inscription on it : — ERECTED BY HIS COMPANIONS AND FRIENDS TO THE MEMORY OF JOHN MACKINTOSH YOUNGEST SON OF THE LATE WILLIAM MACKINTOSH OF GEDDES Born qth yanuary 1822 DIED AT CANSTADT, IN GERMANY XUh March 1851 AND BURIED BY HIS DYING REQUEST NEAR THE GRAVE OF CHALMERS HIS REVERED INSTRUCTOR * An example of the believers, in word, in conversation, in charity, in spirit, in faith, in purity." TO t%v Xpiirrbf — t6 iiro6aP€iy K^pSau i ims. APPENDIX- NOTES ON SCHOOLS IN STUTTGART. * 1 HAD often heard of the celebrity of the General School anA Gymnasium system here pursued, and enjoyed a very long and ample opportunity of inspecting it in its several departments, and becoming conversant with its system and working. I shall endea- vour, as far as my memory will permit me, to give you some of the results of my observation. I shall begin with the lowest step of what is a gradual and well-organized educational scale. I may premise that my observations were made at Stuttgart, where the system general throughout WUrtemberg, is yet, as might be ex- pected, best represented. And first the German or Folks' SchooL All children are obliged to attend school from the age of six till fourteen. In these schools they learn their own tongue, writing, counting, geography, history, religious knowledge, and singing. These, so far as I remember, are the only things. The hours of attendance are from seven till ten, and one till three, so that the more advanced boys have ample time to be useful to their parents : the girls to learn sewing, knitting, and other useful qualifications. The holidays do not occupy more than two months in the year, at different periods. The education appeared to me to be very thorough, but, in most respects, not very different from our own, nor better than in our well-appointed schools. :If the number, however, of the same standing exceeds thirty or forty, they have at once parallel classes and parallel masters, to avoid too great a dis- tribution of interest. In the higher classes, one of the city ministers assists weekly in the religious instruction to prepare the children for Confirmation at fourteen, after which they are ushered into the world. So begins and so ends the education of the mass of the 480 Appendix, people, so that there is not one individual among them who cannot read and write, and who is not acquainted with the name of Jesus, and the truths of revelation. For those in a higher platform in society, is provided a separate training. Here, at six years, and it is again compulsory, the children are all sent to the Elementary School, where, as its name implies, they are taught the elements of their future knowledge. On quitting the Elementary School at eight, a further ««|Wi»tlaai Calce* pUoc^ auMl this I think truly admirable. Those who mean to pursue merely mercantile or me- chanical occupations, proceed to the Real, or, as we should perhaps say. Industrial School, where the whole organization is as thorough and perfect as that of which I shall next speak, pursuing the same immediate aim, of cultivating the intellectual powers, but as having u different mediate aim, employing different and more appropriate materials. Here, as indeed in all the schools, the mother-tongue is carefully cultivated, not only in the development of its grammar, s)mtax, and, in the higher classes, the riches of its literature — but in frequent compositions criticised as vigorously as we do the dead languages. This then, I say, is common to all the schools, in all tlie ■\arious stages of progress, and is most worthy of attention. In the Real School, however, a living language takes the place of Latin and Greek. In Wiirtemberg, it is French. This language is studied in all its minutiae, and has about as large a space of time assigned to it as is usual with us to Latin or Greek. In tliis manner the intellectual benefit is about the same, and in the end the tradesman or mechanic finds himself a citizen of two countries, possessed of a positive acquisition which he can employ and appre- ciate through life. The Real School is divided into a lower and an upper. In the former they must remain from eight to fourteen. In the upper it is optional with him, and the practice is usual to continue yet other two years. In the lower school, then, German, French, Arithmetic, Mathematics, History, Geography, Religious Knowledge, and Singing, are the main branches of education. The number in each class is never allowed to exceed thirty, so that at Stuttgart there are generally three parallel classes for each year. In one of the lovvtst of these it is optional to learn some Latin, as girls learn it, to know the French roots. I may mention ere I forget it, that in all the schools the children or boys sit habitu- ally before desks, as in our writing-rooms — a sign how much com- position is cultivated, and how early and universally they are I Appendix* 4S1 1^ ^ initiated Intd the practice of taking notes. Another grnnd point pervading all the schools, which I may also mention here, is this, that no sch(^lar is allowed to pass into a higher class, without pass- ing, at the end of the previous year, a satisfactory examination, before the master of that class, in composition and some other leading sul)ject. In the upper Real School the same subjects are continued, but the student, according to his destination, has now a wider option. He may add English or Italian to his French. He may learn Bookkeeping, etc., for his profession. If, however, he is not to be a merchant, but a mechanic, an engineer, or an archi- tect, he then studies the elements of Natural Philosophy, of Che- mistry, Drawing, and the like, and pays special attention to Mathe- matics. All this prepares him to pass into the Polytechnic School, wliere the higher Mathematics, Design, Modelling, practical Mechanics, practical Mathematics, Architecture, Chemistry, and the like, may be carried out for three, four, or five years, so that the students may leave this last at an age varying from nineteen to twenty-one. On paper these several stages may appear very intri- cate, but in reality they are most simple and most admirable. I well remember, for instance, how a friend of mine in Scotland, who was to be an engineer, was left to hunt out his various classes, and in soma measure to bungle his education, while here the whole sequence is presented, directed by the best experience. But to re- turn to the main steps of the ladder, and come to the highest, which, in point of fact, I visited first, I must introduce you to the Gym- nasium. Hither come the other swarm of youth thrown off by the common Elementary School. It too is divided into lower and upper, — the former embracing those from eight to fourteen, the latter from fourteen to eighteen. Here you will at once perceive one of its leading advantages over our system. Those who are in a hurry to be done with their education, having been eliminated at the threshold — the stattis piipillaris may be continued to the eighteenth year, when indeed the boyhood ceases, but not earlier than manhood usually begins. In point of fact, it embraces that all-critical transition-period, when so many of our youth, prema- turely reckoned men, make shipwreck of themselves intellectually and morally for life. Its difficulties, which lie deep in the human nature, are not entirely overcome even i)y the Gymnasium system, but they are modified and controlled, so that intellectually and morally I beUeve the gain is great In the Lower Gymnasium, a H 482 Appendix, German, Latin, Greek, History, Geography, Arithmetic, Mathe- matics, and Religious Knowledge, are the chief branches. In the first four of these, I was struck with the superior accuracy and scholarship to what is common among us. First, as in all the classes of all the schools up to the age of fourteen, the same master teaches all the branches, and so each is invested with an equal dignity. Next, the masters are stationary, and so become more apt in their respective departments, while the student, with soiae dis- advantages, obtains a wider and deeper range of knowledge, and has a certain new stimulus each year from a change of hands. Fur- ther, from the limited number and the examination before entering, the students are kept more together, and each feels himself more individually exercised. Thus, too, those long and dreary tracts of time devoted to general parsing and repetition, for the boobies are enabled to be divided, and what is given in its place ? — a real and schclarlike acquaintance with the idioms and niceties of the Isin- guage. Furthermore, more abundant composition ; no dog-I^ai'in or Greek is permitted — and I am ashamed to say that when I lel't the Academy, and to this day, I know no better (but this is a secret). First, you will xxndcrstand that the teacher must be himself more than a mere grammar scholar, and second, he conveys this scholar- ship to his pupils by pointing out, on all occasions, the diflfereric* between the genius of his own language .and the other, and making him in the class, from simple phrases upwards, furnish the equiva- lent in the two tongues, and point out nice shades of meaning between nearly similar expressions and constructions. The amount of scholarship thus possessed, even by very young boys, made me blush. In Greek, from the commencement they not only write, but pronounce after the accents. In all the years of the Lower Gymnasium, they are confined to well-selected passages from vari- ous authors, and only in the Upper do they read them in the origi- nal. History, again, is never separated from Geography. Each student has his atlas before him as he studies the other. In t he junior years, they amass facts, names, dates, etc, and very tlo- roughly, by being taught by the same master with classics. In tAe higher years, but in the Upper Gymnasium, it is more as Hannah proposes it — that is, periods are taken and more philosophically handled ; but a general knowledge of the whole stream must and should be first there. O what a blank is this in my dire experi- ence ! Were I a teacher, I would so philosophize chielly upon Pit I Appendix, 483 Greek and Konian history. Our generation is the first that has it In its power to do so, and all the lessons and training may be Icijxned there. Indeed, marvellous as is the influence of those an- cient languages on our own, the intluence and analogy of their his- tory is far greater. With them, then, as the text, and a knowledge of the facts of modem history to work upon, the i)hilosophy, in its principles, and even in many of its details, may be pointed out for the whole stream. In the Upper Gymnasium, the students' scholar- ship is carried up to Plato in Greek, and the highest works in Latin, lie is thus prepared for the University. French he has begun in the 5th year of the Lower Gymnasium, and it is still carried on. English and Italian may now, however, be adilcd. lie also has it in his power to study Hebrew ; and Theologians must do so. But cliielly he is now taught in the two higher years the elements of J./Ogic and of Moral Philosophy, and Church History is substituted for his previous Bible Knowledge. This, too, is a groat advantage. In regard to the Religious Instruction, it is chiully taken direct from the Scriptures, sometimes, in the higher classes, with the use of a systematized book. The problem is here, as with us, how to make the education moral and religious; and the conclusion, as with us, seenas to be that our leading and main point is the personal char- acter and the personal influence on each pupil of the man himself. Where this is wanting, even Bible instruction may be [)erverted, and at all events become a burden instead of joy and lio.iith. After the final examination the student enters the University — but here 1 have little good to relate, and so drop the curtain. I fear I have given you a very incoherent and inadequate picture of what occu- pied my eager and almost exclusive attention for nearly three weeVj —but you will tak^f the will fur the deed,' t CANADIAN COPYRIGHT EDITION. t ; THE EARNEST STUDENT; Being Memorials of John Mackintosh. By the late NORMAN MACLEOD. Crown 8va. Cloth, $1.00; Paper, 75 cents. RETBINTED FROM THE TWENTIETH ENGLISH EDITION. " FtiU of the most instmctive materials, and admirably com- pUed, we are sure that a career of unusual popularity awaits it ; nor can any pupil peruse it without being quickened by its ex- ample of candour, assiduity, and happy self-consecration, "-i;^ Jutms Hamilton in ^' Excelsior." BELFORD BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, TORONTO. CANADIAN COPYRIGHT EDITION. -1 w THE OLD LIEUTENANT AND HIS SON BY THE LATE NORMAN MACLEOD, D.D. With illustrations. Crown 8 vo«, Cloth, elegant, $i.oo, Illuminated Paper Covers, 75 cents. "We place 'The Old Lieutenant and his Son' in the very first rank of religious fiction." — Daily News. " Beyond any book that we know, this story of Nor- man Macleod's will tend to produce manly piety." — The Patriot, BELFORD BROS., Publishers, Toronto. NEW BOOKS. fT ,ted he ir- he Memoir of Norman Macleod, D. D., Minister of Barony Parish, Glasgow; one of Her Majesty's Chaplains; Dean of the Chapel Royal; Dean of the Most Ancient and Most Noble Order of the Thistle ; by his brother, The Rev. Donald Macleod, B.A. DemySvo., Full Morocco, $6.00 ; Half-Calf, $4.00 ; Cloth, $2.50. The Old Lieutenant and His Son, by the late Norman Macleod. Crown 8vo., illustrated Cloth, $1.00 ; Paper, 75 cents. The Earnest Student, by the late Norman Macleod. Crown, 8vo., Cloth, $1.00 ; Paper, 75 cents. The Gold Thread, by the late Norman Macleod Square 8vo., beautifully illustrated, Cloth, full gilt, $1.00 Wee Davie, by the late Norman Macleod. Paper 15c The above works are copyrighted in Canada, and published by ^ BELFORD BROTHERS, TORONTO. ^HE GOLD THREAD. ^ ^torj) tot tij, ^ounj. Bv NORMAN MACLEOD, D D : — -....D.w„^:^•""^-"-- Prom the Caledonian iv/r It IS impossible to mv. ! ' ^^^^^ ^"^ be a Corn T„» '™» poet As liWe Ericf .het * J' r'-^" »'-P^ Dr. Macleod™" -"g this «,„g ,_ '"'^-' » 1- half-waking d«an, a nm. s^Za With th- "°'"ing else to do. ^ A„^ . * ""'■sing birds I Vii H^ we laugh at the .„!:'"' Pouncing on hfm i,?!,'" V' When winter comes with e- All the"tve"f"''' temTestTl!ol"°"' I furnish up a ho:«." ^"'^ »°"«« ^^CKa!/j^l--«. AnJ'^^i^iteK;tt^-.- Or wranp'd about ,?yth;oat, Ha.fa,h./ha,ha^Ch!,;ha.h. AD. id ^ks in r, but ;rever ■SAD. innot as a of a irrel u- lat