I:: r" ^ / ^ . / ^ ^! -.^Wi University of California • Berkeley ■ r ^ ^ . -^ r ^^.^ V^- Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2007 with funding from IVIicrosoft Corporation http://www.archive.org/details/confessionsofjlaOOIackrich LACKING TON'S CONFESSIONS. THE CONFESSIONS . OF J. LACKIN GTON, IN A SERIES OF LETl^ERS TO A FRIEND. TO WHICH ARE ADDED, TWO LETTERS BAD CONSEaUENCES OF HAVING DAUGHTERS EDUCATED AT BOARDING-SCHOOLS. But then grew Reason dark, that she no ynore Could the fair forms of Good and Truth discern ; Batts they became, who Eagles were before, . And this they got by tlicir desire to learn. SIR J. DAVIES. " The soul's dark cottage battcr'd and decay'd Lets in new light through chinks which time has naadc.* LONDON: PRINTED BY BICHARD EDWARDS^ Crane Court, Fleet Street, FOR THE author; AND SOLD RY G. LACKINGTON, ALLEN', AND CO« TEMPLE OF THE MUSES, FINSBU RY-SQ U ARE, AND BY ALL OTHER BOOKSELLERS IN THE UNITED KINGDOM. 1804. [Price in Boards, Two Shillings i (>-: PREFACF. SEVERAL of my friends have thought that, if the following Letters were made public they might prcfve useful as a warning to others not to fall into those errors which had nearly proved fatal to me ; and, also, as an alarm to some of those who are already fallen into thst dreadful state of infidelity from which, by the great mercy of God, I am hap- pily escaped. They were also of ophiion, that as I had publicly vfdiculed a very large and respectable body of Christians, and thus, in fact, made a thrust at the veiy vitals of Christianity itself, by tliis means giving occasion to speculative infidels and practical unbelievers to triumph and blaspheme ; that, tliere- fore, my recantation ought to be made as public as possibl&i and that by so doing I should give great ^»^.^.^ pleasure VI PREFACE, pleasure to many real Christians, who, with tlie angels in heaven, will rejoice over a repenting To the preceding reasons the author is obliged to add, that without publishing something of the kind, he thinks he should not have performed his duty to God or man : nor have had any just ground to expect pardon from either — such is his sense and abhorrence of the pernicious and infidel tendency of tliose parts of his Memoirs, in which, through the side of Methodism, he even wounds the Church of England^ and attacks the whole of evangelical jpiety. In order that my readers might be able to form cleaF ideas of the state of my mind through the whole progress of my present happy change, I thought it best to insert two Letters which I wrote while I was an infidel ; and otliers written during my gradual discovery of the truths which are re- vealed in the scriptures. And I request my readers to take notice, that the first twenty-fom* Letters w^ere all written before I was convinced of the truth of those doctrines which are taught by the Me- thodists, and also by our Reformers, as appears by the Liturg)"-, Articles, and Homilies of the Church of England. I found it necessary to make some small altera- tions in some of the Letters. I have divided wliat was PREFACE. Vii \\'as originally sent to a friend in one long Letter into two. In the Letter on a death-bed repentance, which was Written four years since, I have intro- duced a quotation from the Farmer's *Boy, a poem, not published when that Letter was wriLten. In some of the other Letters additional quotations from the poets have been inserted since they were sent to my friends. » I have called my old acquaintances by fictious names, because I would not publicly expose either those that are dead, or such as are still living -, and I presume no one has any reason to complain ^ for should any of them ha known by my sketches, it can only be by such as were acqiaainted with the originals. In one or two instances I have, for particular reasons, made use of a fictious vehicle to introduce real facts, reasonings, reflections, &:c. Jt may be necessary to inform my readers, that I am not (as some suppose), again become a partner in ' the bookselling trade. It is now five years since I made over the whole 'of tliat business to Messrs. George Lackington, Allen, and Co. since which time I have had no share or interest in it 3 and I am very sorry that they last summer published a new edition of the Memoirs of my Life 5 but I believe they, had no intention to disoblige the Methodists, but merely published it as a matter of course to promote nu PREFACE. promote their trade. And altliougli I at llut tinitt was not pleased with its being repubhshed, } et I did not see the evil tendency which tliat work cer- tainly has in so strong a light as I have since. Perhaps, as this opportunity olfers, I ought to in- form the public, that Mr. George Lackington is a third cousin of mine ; and that from thirteen years of age he was brought up in my shop^ Mr. Allen \\ irs also brouglit up from a boy in my shop. And the otiier partners were taken into tlie trade by me in seventeen hundred and ninety-four. I hope the reader will pardon tliis digression. This work being printed in London, and I ii^ing about one hundred and twenty miles distant, some errors of tlie press ha\e been made, which the reader is requested to correct. I am. Readers, Your very sincere wellwisher, J. LACKING1X)X. Alveston, Dec. 10/ A, 1803. LJCKIXGTOX S LACKINGTON s CONFESSIONS. ••<-«^> LEITER I. - O well thou knowest^ Who knowest all things, with what welcome toH, AVhat pleasing assiduity I search'd Thy heavenly word, to learn thy heavenly wvlU In all thy sacred institutions. Lord, Thy Sabbaths with peculiar wisdom shine, l^'irst and high argument, creation done. Of thy benign solicitude for man. THOUGHTS IN PRISON* Inward state of mind ; calm region once. And lull of peace, now tost and turbulent ; For understanding rul'd not, paradise lost. Repentance, heav'nly monitress, reclaims ^The wanderer from his dangerous maze I'o tread her peaceful paths and seek his God. Cumberland's calvaiiy. ■^** Tremblin": I retreat : I My prostrate soul again adores her God." N my Memoirs I told you that I married Miss Dorcas Turton. This girl had for some years di- vided her spare hours between devotion and novel B reading > 2 LACKINGTON S CONFESSIONS. reading ; on Sundays she would attend the sermons of two or three of those who are called Calvinist- Metliodist preachers, the intervals were often filled up by reading of novels : and after her return from the Tabernacle in the evening the novel was re- sumed, and perhaps not quitted until she had seen the hero and heroine happily married, which often kept her out of bed until morning. On other even- ings also she would often hear a sermon at the Ta- bernacle, and devote the remainder of the night to reading " Tales of love and Maids forsaken.'* I had no sooner married this young \%'oman than Mr. Wesley's people began to prophecy that I should soon lose all my religion. This prophecy I must confess was too soon fulfilled. And although she was not the sole cause of it, yet as I often was pre- vailed upon to hear her read those gay, frothy narra- tives, I, by degrees, began to lose my relish for more important subjects 5 and it was not long be- fore novels, romances, and poets occupied a consi- derable part of our time, so that I even neglected my shop j for being so much delighted with those fairy regions, I could scarce bear the idea of busi- ness : I also sometimes neglected the preaching at the Foundery, at other times hurried home, impa- tient until I had again got into the realms of fiction. Some months passed away in this manner. At last I was roused from those dreams, and again I paid attention to my trade. I observed, in my Memoirs, that Mr. Denis vi- sited me during my long illness, when I was again constantly to be foimd in my shop. He often called^ and having little to do, and being fond of disputa- tion, he would seat himself on the counter, and, as occasion offered, attack me, or any of my custom- ers, on our religious opinions. He was acquainted with the various controversies which have divided the Christian world ; and appeared to take delight in pulling systems to pieces, without establishing any thing. He owned that he was greatly attached to LACKINGTOX S CONFESSION'?. l-i ti> alchyniloal and mystical authors j but he would confess that, although lie believed some of their writings were dictated by the Spirit of God, yet that he did not pretend to understand them. He allowed that the authors of the Old and New Testa- ments, sometimes wrote as the Spirit dictated, but contended that they had written many things, with- out any such assistance 3 that, like other pious au- thors, they at times only wrote their own opinions , so that Mr. Denis only believed so much of the Bible as he approved of. The divinity of Christ, tl>© doctrine of the atonement, kc. he did not believe. From Jane Leed, Madam Bourignon, Madam Gui- on, he had filled his head with associating and con- centering tvith the divinity y which was the way te be all light y all eye, all spirit, all joy, all rest, all gladness, all love ; pure love, rest in auietness, ah- sorhed in silent spiritual pleasure, ancl inexpressible sivectjiess, kc. Mr. D. did not attejid any place of worship, except the Horse -and- Groom public- house near Moorfields could be called such. In Moorfields he sometirnes would hear part of a ser- mon or two, and for an hour or two after the orati- ons were ended, he was to be seen disputing among the mechanics, who very often came there for that purpose. In the afternoon on Sunday, he would go to • the above public-house, where a room full of person© of this description usually met, and one or other of • them would first read a chapter in the Bible, and afterward animadvert on what he had read, and as many as were disposed to it, added their curious re- marks-. To this odd gj-oupe of expositors, I was once introduced, but I did not repeat my visit. From the disputes in my shop, example, Sec. I soon came to think that the Sabbath-day was no more sacred than any other day ; so that instead of attending at places of worship, I sometimes read the whole of the day ; at other times I walked in die fields with Mr. D. liis son, and other disputants, where we debated various subjectii, B 2 . I believe 4 LACKINGTON S CCNPESSIONS. I believe when any one willingly neglects public ^.vcrship, lie will not long be attentive to private de- voiion^ it was at least the case with me. *I also soon began to entertain doubts concerning the doc- trines of the Trinity, Atonement, &:c. And in pro- portion as I relaxed in Christian duties, I grew more fond of such disputes as had a tendency to jnake my mind easy on that score. About this time Mr. R. T — nl — y advised me to read the Memoirs of John Buncle, which I soon procured and read through. This pernicious work, (for such I now think it to be), at once, not only eradicated the remains of Metlaodism, but also nearly the whole of Christianity. Faults in the life, breed errors in the brain, And these, reciprocally, those again ; The mind and conduct, mutually imprint. And stamp their image on each other's mint. COWPER, After the heterogeneous example bf John Buncle^ 1 indulged myself in the practice of many things which were inconsistent with the character of a Christian, and yet, like him, I was not willing to suppose those practices were at variance with the most exalted notions of rational Christianity. Having, like John Buncle, given up the doctrines of the Trinity, Original Sin, Atonement made by Christ, the Obligation of the Sabbath, &c. and having become negligent of Christian duties, and a little relaxed in morals, it was not likely that I should stop here. I think it was in this year (1776) that I became acquainted with one w horn I shall call Jack Jolly, and some of his acquaintance, all downright infi- dels j but otherwise shrewd, sensible men. . Of these I learned the names of such authors as had wfote on the side of infidelity j and also the titles of their pernicious productions. I think it was tlie witty sarcaems and vile misre- presentations LACKIKGTONS CONFESSIONS. 5 presentations of Voltaire that first made me entirely give up my Bible, from which I had in past years derived so much real comfort in the most distressing circumstances of gi'eat poverty, and very great afflic- tion. That precious book enabled me to breakfast, dine and sup on watergruel only, not barely with a contented mind, but also with a cheerful counte- nance and a merry heart. It was the Bible \^ hich supported me under the several years affliction of a beloved wife, in which I truly suffered with her ; it was that book which enabled her, although young, to die with joy, and in full and certain hope of a glorious resurrection. When this charming young woman died, I also was given over;, my soul was, as it were, hovering on my lips, just ready to de- part. In this awful crisis, my amiable wife gone ! All around me expecting the moment when time to jne should be no longer ! — " The dim lamp of life just feebly left •• inen siriK" DECK again. In this awful situation I remained a long time, how" long I know not, perhaps a week or x^eeks > yet even in tliis state, although more a^da uiaxx alive, did the divine promises contained in the sacred pages support and comfort me, so that at times I was filled with inexpressible pleasure. In those moments I could believe that I was «' A glorious pattner with the Deity, " Iti that hie;h auribute, Eternal Life.— " I gaz'd, and as I gaz'd, my mounting soul *' Caught fire, Eternity at thee j »* And dropped the world." Say, ye infidels ! in your thoughtful moments, why would you deprive your poor fellow mortals of that which alone can support them amidst tiie com- plicated miseries to which we are exposed ? B3 If I^ACXINGTOSS COKrESSlONS, If 'twas a dream, why icake me my worst foe ? O for delasion ! O for error still ! Could vengeance strike much stronger. Not over rich before, now beggar'd quite ; More curst than at tVie fall f The sun goes out ! The thorns shoot up ! What thorns in every thought J Why sense of better ? It imbitters "Worse. Why sense ? Why life ? If but to sigh, then sink To what I was f Twice nothing ! and much woe ! V/oe from heav'n's bounties ! woe from what was wont To flatter most, high Intellectual powers ! Ihouf^hty virtue, knowledge ! Blessing by their scheme. All poison'd into pains. First knowledge, once My soul's ambition, now her greatest dread. To know thyself, true wisdom ? No, to shu* n hat shocking science. Parent of despair ! Avert the mirror, if I see 1 die. »■♦ » » ♦ » » » All's inverted, irisdom is a fool. Sense take the reign ; blind passion ! drive us on ; And Ignorance befriend us on our way ; Ye^ ; give pulse full empire ; live the brute. Since as the brute, we die. The sum of man. Of ijodlike man 1 to reuel and to rot, ' Notwithstanding I had, as I have observed he- fore, been sometime relaxing in religious princi- >ij^ a«^ a«tLoo, -jrct no tunguc, or pen, can describe what I felt at times, on relinquishing the volume ^vhich contamed the words of eternal life : but it was wrenched from me. For I was so destitute of knowledge and abilities, as not to be able to answer the witty and artful objections of that arch infidel V oltaire, and others whose works soon after I read. 1 must confess that I felt it very hard to part from this old constant companion of mine 3 and should have been glad to have retained its divine consola- tions, without being bound to obey all its precepts. But as that could not be, after many struggles, I took my leave of that inestimable trea^ire of wisdom and know}ed or destroy tlie domestic happiness of another nian. In one instance I knew that Dick acted with great honour 5 a freethinking lady, who had been made such by her husband, happened (perhaps de- signedly) to stay rather late at a friend's house whei-e Dick was. He offered to see her home. In the way home she took occasion to remark to her Squire, that her husband being many miles away, slie should be obliged to sleep alone ; that she must go to bed in the dark, as she had ordered her maid to go to bed, and not sit up for her j she had taken the key in her pocket, and would let herself in. She also gave other broad hints not to be mistaken. Dicfe 34 lackington's confessions. Dick knew his own failing, and said to himself, " how can I do this great wickedness and sin against my friend." As soon as he came to the door (for he durst noj^^ tnist himself in the house), he suddenly bid her good night, and set otf towards home as fast as he could. The lady was perhaps the more disap- pointed, as she might know that Dick was not strictly true to his wife : but be that as it will, she acted over again the part of Potiphar's wife, and An- taea j she accused Dick to her husband, of having made an attempt on her chastity. For him Antaca burn'd with lawless flamej And strove to tempt him from the paths of fame ; In vain she tempted, the relentless youth Endued with wisdom, sacred fear, and tmth. Fir'd with his scorn, the Queen to Pracius fled, And begfjM revenge for her insuhed bed. ILIAD* Some one, I forget who, says, that .. •< Virtue never will be moved, " Tho' lewdness court it in the shape of heaven.** In novels we often read of men's planning deeply, and taking incredible pains in order to seduce wives : in real life even tlie most profligate part of our sex do not commonly attack a fort that appears to be impregnable, nor are they fond of going on a forlorn hope. Such married women who at all times behave themselves as the delicacy of the fe- male character requires, have seldom complaints of this nature to make. Cato would not have his wife suspected ; no doubt but he had the same ideas just hinted at. The late pious Bishop Wilson says, in his 55th sermon, '^ Let but women so behave them- *^ selves, as that the men may think them chaste -^ ** and they may be confident, nobody will attempt " them hut in an hojiest way.'' He adds, ^' But ^' this is the rt?a/ occasion of so many miscarriages : — *' people discover^ eitlier by tlieir ver}' vain dress, or ► '' looks. lackington's coxfessions. 15 '* looks, or words, or behaviour, they discover that *' they do not fear God, that they only icarit to le *' teinpted ; and this encourages those that are as '' nought as themselves to tempt, and to gain their *' wicked ends of them." Although Dick was not quite so abandoned by honour and conscience as to be cajiable of violating the ties of friendship, by making his friend's wife a prostitute, even when tempted so to do ^ yet I have reason to believe tliat some of his infidel companions would not have scrupled, for a moment's gratifica- tion, to have sacriticed the peace and happiness of their dearest friends. " At niffht ** His best friend's couch the rank aduherer " Ascends secure ; and laughs at gods and men. '* Prepost'rous madmen, void of fear or shame, ** Lay their crimes bare to the chaste eyes of heav'n j *' Vtt shrink, and shudder at a mortal's sight." I have been more particular in describing my friend Dick's infidelity and vice, as in so doing I have, in some particulars, described my own case and that of others. I am. Dear friend, Your's. LETTER IV. A troubled ocean, spread With bold adventurers, their all on board ; No second hope, if here their fortune frowus: Frown soon it must, NIGHT THOUGHTS. Why Thought ? To toil and cut. Then make our Bed in -Darkness, needs no thought. What superfluities are reasoning Souls I O give Eternity ! or thought destroy. Wretched 16' lackin'gton's confessions. ' Wretched preferment to this round of pains ! Wretched capacity of frenzy, Thought ! ' Without thou^:;ht our curse were half unfelt ; Its blunted edge would spare the throbbing heart. NIGHT THOUGHTS. It scemM as though his conscience would permit . A momentary pause, for one short gleam Of hope to visit his benighted soul.' *Twas one step TurnM backward from the precipice of sin And pointed towards repentance ; faint eftbrt. Cumberland's calvary. DEAR FRIEND, I THINK you will be glad to ionise the following letters, as they will help to convince you of my being quite in earnest in renouncing infi- del principles and practice. They were wrote to some of niy old sceptical companions. The ifrst you. will perceive was wrote when I only began to see the effects of infidel principles on the morals of mankind, before I was convinced of the ti-uths of revealed religion. It was sent to Jack Jolly, in March, 1799. '' Dear Jack, " I am uncertain whether you are dead or alive, in thh world or in a better 5 in a worse you cannot be. Couki I meet widi Mercury when I have fi- nished this, I would transcribe a copy of it and send it by him, directed to Jack Jolly, the philosopher, in the Elysian Fields — inquire among the votaries of Bacchus. *' As far as it regards yourself only, I do not think it of much consequence whether you are still alternately oppressed, and overwhelmed witli sick- ness and pain, or making merry with your jovial companions over a bottle : now moralizing and rea- soning on moral and physical evil ^ then finding fault witli administration .3 one while believing in a great LACKINGTON S CONFKb'^iON'i. J7 ;^rf at first cause, and then asserting that the universe •as existed from all eternity, la short, whether . {)u are still going on in tlie oJd dull round of a little pleasure and much pain 5 or, whether you liave (juitted tiiis insignificant motley scene, for the chance of losing the happiness and misery of exist- rnce, or of existing in a happier state of things. But while I live in hoj^es of the pleasure of hearing from you, (although but seldom,) and of again see- ing you by my fireside ; I must confess, that I am so selfish as to wish you may not have had the start of me. I have sent you two letters since I received , one from you. If you really are in a state of mor- tality, and should read this, do assure me of it, and let me know how your excellent wife is, and your children. I am also concer;ied to know how th« philosopher your brother is. " Tell me also what you now think of French philosophy and philosophers. The world is now more enigmatical than ever. Plutarch says that su- perstition is worse than atheism, several other phi- losophers have repeated it after him, and you and I have believed it } but now I have my CmibJs about it. On the other hand, I know not how to believe that ignorance and error can promote virtue ; 1 really am much perplexed. One thing seems cer- tain, the breaking down of the old supei^stitious dykes has brought on us an universal deluge of vice and immorality, the effects of which we must own are alarming in the highest degree. " I have observed, that for a year or two past, a shyness has taken place in me towards my free- thinking authors j I have seldom any thing to do with them. Those late great favourites and con- stant .companions of mhie are now neglected and covered with dust ; for at times I can scarce help thinking them chargeable with some of the dread- ful evils that now are inundating Europe. *^V few years since you and I thought it would be charming 18 LACKlNGTON't; CONrKSSION'S. cliarming to live in a state composed entirely of free- thinkers. I now shuculer at the very idea. No doubt there are some speculad\'e infidels who like you, your brother^ and myself, would gladly act their part in society by endeavouring to promote the happiness of all tlieir fellow-creatures, and even that of the animal world ; but we now find that tlie bulk of mankind are only to be restrained by their hopes and fears. '* But as you are a d-emocrat, it is likely that you and I have been reading different and opposite rela- tions, opinions, &c. so that it would not be matter of surprise if we should have formed ideas very dif- ' ferent from each other 3 so I will say no more on that liead. ** Unhappy man ! who, thro* successive years, ** From early youth to Hfe's last childhood errs. ** Reason's a taper, which but faintly burns ; ** A languid flame, that glows and dies by turns ; «* We see't a little while, and but a little way <* We travel by its light as men by day ; ** But quickly dyinsr, it forsakes us soon, ■« I'^Ve xTiArning;-srar<:, that never sta^ till noOn. " I am now grown more indifferent than ever as to m'hat otliers do, how they live, &-c. or even as to what they think of me, or my way of life. I know that I am thought to be a strange sort of a fellow, as I neither hunt, shoot, drink, nor play at cirds. 1 read until I am tired. I then walk or work in my garden, and in bad weather I cleave wood, &c. Once a week I dine with Mrs. L.'s father, who, al- though a lawyer, is a very honest, peaceable gentle- man. He is also good to his poor neighbours, and goes to church once a week, except I happen to be tliere on Sunday when the service is in the after- noon, when I keep him awake by relating all the droll adventures that I can recollect. In my turn I patiently listen to his old stories, although I have heard /.ackington's confessions. 19 heard them twenty times before ; long may he live ill his peaceable and quiet mansion. I am. Dear Jack, Your old friend, Alveston, March lOth, 1799- ^- L'" I have since learned that Jack Jolly's brother died about this time, and that Jack survived hmi only about a year, but his health was so impaired as to render him unable to write. What were his dymg sentiments I have endeavoured to learn, but without .success 3 I fear they ^^l3re not what I now could wish them to be, as I wrote to an old iniidel relation of his to know what state his mind was m when dy- in^, but I never received any answer. As you wili have more particulars relating to Jack, I \\ lU now add no more, but that, I am. Dear friend. LETTER V.^> The thought of death is the machine. The grand macjiine ! that heaves us from the dust. And fears us into men : that thqui^ht ply'd heme will soon reduce the ghastly p?«f2joice, And gently slope our passage to the grave ; How warmly to be wish'd. ^_— . Send forth A thought of observation on the foe : To sally and survey the rapid march Of his ten thousand messengers to man ; Who * This letter was wrote when I only admitted the truth ot natural religion, — The letter alluded to in this is oniittedi^ 20 LACKINrGTON-'S •'ONI'E3SION':ii Who Jt;hu-like behind him turns them alK All accidents apart, by ratu;e sign'd, Ariy warrant is gone out tho* dormant ycf ; )Vrhaps behind one moment lurks my fact*. All cnsts of conduct, all degrees of health; All dies of fortune, and all dates of age, Together shook in Death's imperial urn, Come torth at random. DR. Y0LN4.. ** Fot lieaven virtue^ can akme prepare ; ** Vice would fmd herself unhappy there." ©LD FRIEND^ I Remember to have read twenty •years since, I believe in a translation of one of the 'Glassies; of a man that was • suspected of luiving, murdered his father; but as no positive evidence >^'as advanced against him, it was thought unjust to punish him. In order to be more saiished in tViC affair, a person unknown to him, was ordered to pay close attention to him every time he went to d^^o^v whirli ^i.-ac aeooi-aiiigiy Gone ; and on this person's reporting that the suspected man slept perfectly sound, it was concluded that he could not have murdered his nitii^.-. The poet, addressing himself to sleep, says^ Fair virtue*s friend t Thou ne'er shalt shed Thy blessing o'er the impious head, Or midst the noise of crowds be found ; Thy balm-distilling sweets alone To ermin'd innocence are known, And gay content, with rural garlands crown'd. By thee the shadow-trembling murderer's guilt With double terror wrings the tortur'd soul ; The purpled steel, the life-destructive bowl, Recal the baleful horrois of the blood he spilt. MR. II 'S ODE TO SLEEP. Blaomfield, in his '' Farmer's Boy," has the fol- lowing easy lines : Delicious sleep ! who could forbear, \Yi*h no more s^iU than Giles, and no more care ? Peace LACK1NGTON3 CONFESSIONS. 21 iVace on his slumbers waves her golden wing, Nor conscience once disturbs him with a sting, I was led to the recollection of the above story by some part of my last lett'_-r to you, retiecling on the Surprise it possibl}- i>i .':l.i give you on i/eaciing of it. I was by a train of rcu^uiung brpught to conclude (as I have no faith, in a death-bod repentance) that if a person cannot sleep soundly who ha;i beeii guilty of any horrid crime, he certainly cannot die in peace, but will be tormented by his guilty con- science : so that if at that awful period he is in good liumour and can laugh, like Anne Bolen and others mentioned in my last, I, with the apostle, '' trust that he hath a good conscience'^ But my dear friend, if because I could wish to die in a perfect good humour, like the Emperor Augus- tus, you think me a mere trifler, and an enemy to serious thoughts, you never were more mistaken, as n6 man can think more gravely on serious subjects than I do at times, and that frecjuently; but then I insist on jt, that, a time of sickness, when the body is overwhelmed with pain and disorders, is not a suitable time for repentimce 3 much less should that important work be deferred to a death -bed. No- thing surprises me more than to hear or read of ra- tional beings, or some who would be thought such, talk of making their peace with Heaven on their -tleath-bed. The greatest offenders against tlie laws of society, in general shew great contrition when brought to the gallows ;' yet no one is so ignorant as to believe that 3ieir repentance is of that kind as, were their lives spared, would prevent them from committing other daring offences. How then can we imagine that the heart of a villain who has the good luck to esc^ipe the gallows, can be totally changed on his death-bed. I wish from my soul that our dramatic and novel writers had not given so many deep wounds to mo- rality as, from observation, I have great reason to think 22 i.ackington's confessions. tliiiik they have done by their frequent insinuations of the efficacy of a few days', sometimes a few hours' repentance or remorse. Surely, in all such productions, every villain and immoral cht^racter jrhould be '' sent to his account \\'ith all his imper- fections on his head:" for it is scarcely possible for the Devil himself to hisinuate any ideas more de- structive to moral rectitude than the sufficiency of remorse of conscience on a death-bed. Homer relates the death of Elpenor in a very concise manner 3 and to Christians it must appear awful : Full headlong from the roof the sleeper ftll, And snapp'd his spinal joint and wak'd in hell. tope's ODYSSEY. I have often been puzzled to find but where those authors of plays and novels (some of whom are very respectable, and deserve the esteem of the commu- nity,) learned their notions of repentance. I'he^ did not learn them from the scriptures, for in them repentance is made to consist of an entire change of heart and life. Natural religion teaches the same doctrine. By the works of tlie learned we find that the viedam of the Persians, the sacred books of the anciertt Bramins, the morals of Confusius, all hold forth the same notions in respect to repentance. The heathen philosophers taught the same doctrine j Plato says, that such men as have 07//y committed ve?ial s'ms must repent all their lives afterwards; and even though they spend the remainder of their lives in repentance, yet that they must of necessity ' be cast into Tartarus for a time. This great philo- sopher, in his Commonwealth, and also in his trea- tise -of the Immortality of the Soul, supposes that souls, both good and bad, carr}' their good or evil dispositions wiU) them into the other world j or in other words, that eveiy man carries the seeds of eternal happiness or misery in his own mind : so tliat if we go into the other world with evil passions un- raortified. LACKIXGTOKS C0XFESSI0N5. 23 • - mortified, they will not only be far more violent than now, but our perception of tjiem will be pure and unalloyed by any intermixture of enjoyment. Dr. Scott, in the three first chapters of his Chris- tiafl Life, has pur.sued the Platonic doctrine through all its consequences. It is well worth the attention even of a philosopher. Mr. Boyd has given us an excellent summaiy view of the Platonic doctrine with respect to a future state, at the end of his trans- lation of Dante's Inferno : I will give you a few short extracts. '' The souls of men, whenever they leave the body, doubtless associate with spirits like them- selves." ^^ We cannot see how spirits act upon each other, yet there is no doubt but the plagues^ inflicted by spirits upon spirits are as immediate as tliose inflicted by body upon body." ''^ What woeful society must that be! where all trust and confidence is banished, and every one stands upon his guard, tort\ircd with eternal vigi- lance of surrounding mischiefs I \^'hen all his em- ployment is diabolical fraud. — ^lliere society is like the monster Scylla, whom the poets speak of, whose inferior parts were a company of dogs continually snarling and quarrelling among themselves, and yet inseparable from each otlier, as being parts of the same substance." *^*^ As tlie punishment arises in a great degree from the acquired habit, it must last as long as the ex- istence of the criminal." *' In every act of virtue there is an imperfect uni- on of the soul with God, and some degree of the pleasure of heaven. When habit has made the ex- ercise of virtue delightflil, we shall find ourselves under the central force of heaven, sweetly drawn along by the powerful magnetism of its joy and pleasure." From every point of view; I think it is evident that repentance does not consist: in a momentary sorrow, but in a change of disposition and life. 24 lackinston's confessions. ^ I miisl confess that I cannot help thinking, tliat heaven would be a strange sort of a place if e\ er)' lascal, knave, and fool were permitted to go there who have, on tlieir death-bed, experienced remorse of conscience. Such wretches as these have made a hell of this \\ork] to all connected v.ith tliemj and are they to make a hell of heaven also ? Can one conceive a worse hell than it would be for a perfectly honest man to live eternally w'lih a rogue, or a virtuous woman with an old bawd; a Howard with a Roberspierre ; a Lucretia with Mother John-* son; Jonas Ilanway with Paul Jones 3 Penelope with a modern wife; Aspasia and Octavia witlvCleopalra and Xantippe; Guyon and Bourignon with Ninon d4 L'enclos and Lady M. W. M e 3 Socrates and Plato with Petronius and Charteresj Wesley and Whitfield with Woolston and Tom Paine; Mrs. H. More and Mrs. Rcwe with i\Irs. Behn and G. A. Bellamy; tlie Man of Ross with Elwes; Bigot Mary with T>ady Jane Gray ; Soj)hronia with Sapho; Nero iind Bonaparte with Alfred and George III. We laugh when we read of the Indians in the East, firmly believing that, if they can but die with a cow's tail in their hand they are quite sure of go- ing to heaven ; but are not our notions to the full as jibsurd as theirs ? Is our death-bed repentance any thing more than a cow's tall in our hand r Walpole, in the following lines, ridicules a Roman Catholic dc;ath-bed repentance, w hich is not more fidiculous than our own. Some hoary hypocrite, grown old in sin, Whose thoughts of heav'n. with his last hour begin. Counting a chaplet with a bigot care. And mumbling somewhat 'twixt a charm and pray'r. Hugs a dawb'd image of his injur'd Lord, And squeezes out on the dull idle board Sore-ey'd gum of tears ; the flannel crew With cunning joy the fond repentance view. Pronounce him bless'd, his miracles proclaim, Teach the slight crowd t' adore his name, Exiilt his praise above the saints of old, ATid coin bis sinking conscience into gold. Another tACKlNGTON'S CONFESSIONS. 25 Another celebrated wit also ridicules the same iubject : -With the rattle in the throa.t. Their dying moments they devote To penitence, as late as faint. Whilst each invokes his favourite saint; Saint Rook, Saint Mitouche, and Saint Martla, His feeble eftbrts to take part in: In vain they sing and Latin brawl ; In vain, alas I to sprinkling fall: Their psalmody, their Latin fails* And holy water nought avails. At the betl's foot, upon the watch. The devil squats, the soul to catch. With outstretch'd claws, as from the clay. F.scapM, the captive wings its way ; And lyars it to the depth of hell. Where, ht abode, such »pints -ere summoned to give up their accounts. There, profane wit and ribal.-lry are no more. AiUiough I have an aversion to fanaticism and en- tliusiasm, yet I would much rather again listen to the poor ignorant enthusiastic David Burford, \^-hom you must well remember, than to the most shrewd and witty remarks of my old freeUnnking acquain- tance, who used to set the table in a roar. These clever, sensible, witty fellows, with all their subtile reasoning, had not understanding enough to live like rational beings, but by their vicious practices brought on themselves years of pain and mi>t ry, and shortened tlieir existence. The good old Da\ id Bur- fcrd's fear of God made him live soberly and righte- ously ; his faith enabled him many years to bear poverty and affliction with cheerfulness, as believing that ail would work together for his good — au he would often tell us. His hope of going to a better world enabled him to expect his approaching disso- lution with joy — deep is the stake, And awful the inquiry — how the soul May smile at death, und meet its God in peace, dodd. 0,old LACKINGTON*S CONFESSIONS. 31 O, old Acquaintance, this Tery poor and very ig-~ norant old man, was in reality much wiser than we have been, although we used to laugh at and deft^ pise Iwrn. May we begin to live the life, that at last we may die the death of tliis poor simple weaver! Among all your freethinking acquaintance did you ever know one whose reading, learning, or wit enabled him to live so uprightly and comfortably in so much poverty and affliction j or who could, like him, look death steadily in tlie face with humble joy. Young says truly, " A Chriirtlan is the highest style of man." The most learned, the wisest, and best of men were Christians. In rcadhig history and biography we learn, that many of the most i;itelhgent men, after many years spent in voluminous libraries in eager search of sciemu:, of kno\\-ledge, and wisdom, have, in the end, thrown aside even the most re- spectable works of ancient and modern pliilosophers, moralists, historians, politicians, poets, &c. and have in their partly-neglected Bible found a treasure which every where else they had sought for in vain. The brightest geniusses have found ample satisfaction in tliat book. There is the sublime and the beautiful; the most pathetic stories, and elegant parables; the grandest descriptions and the most august ideas of the Deity; tlie most perfect morality; tlie greatest motives to virtue, and the most awful denunciation* against vice. In a word, in that book we are taught the way of holy living; and by so living we ensure to ourselves an eternal state of felicity in tlie realms of everlasting light and love. I am. Old Acquaintance, Your's, &c. T. L/' AlvQstoHy Jan, 1, 1803. ^ 4 T# S2 LACKIN'GTON's COKrESSIONS. To this letter I did not receive any answer until June tlie same year. It is time to conclude tliis. I am. Dear Friend, Yours. LETTER VII. Trvthy raclient goddefis, sallies on my 5mir, And jHits delii>207i's dusky train to Flight ; Shews the real estimate of thing^s ; Sees tilings iiivisiblc, feels things remote. When ]ate there is less time to play the fooL S(X)n OUT v\hoIe term for ^vi^dom is expir*d, ('i'hou know'st she calls no council in the grave ;) And everlasting fool is writ \njir^ry Or real v/isdom wafts us to the rkirc. BRAE FRXEXD, BY J.B.'r letter tome in June, it ap^ pears that an alteration has also taken place in hii< lentiments. The following letter, which I sent to him about a month after, will sufficiently inform you ©f the contents of his to me. '' Old Acquaintance, I sincerely rejoice to learn from your letter to me that God has not finally given you over to stro7Jg de- lusions still to believe a lie, for not obeying the gospel of Christ, I am also happy to learn that you have a better conviction than that which only brings with it a fearful looking for ofjudginent and fiery indig- nation, which is ready to be poured forth on the ad^ wersaries of Christ, May God, who is so rich in mercy, establish both you and me in the truth as it is in Christ, and in every good ivord and work, tliat we niav LACKINGTON S COKFESSIONS. oJ may not be' in the number of those that draw lack ■unto perdition, but of thobe that believe to the saving of the soul. The life of Christ may well fill you with admira- tion and devotion. 1 was, e\en when an infidel^ struck dumb and confounded whenever, for a few moments, 1 seriously reflected on his wonderful cha- racter. We have not only been wicked, but also astonishingly stupid in professing to disbelieve mi- racles, when at the same time we were obliged to belie\ e the greatest of miracles : That the son of a poor obscure carpenter, brought up in a very igno- rant, scandalous village, could speak as never man spake, and live among the di*egs of mankind like a God! ■ In his blessM life, We see the path, and in his death the price, And in his great ascent, the proof supreme Of immortality. D'R. YOL'NC. You say that you have but one book of your own, which is the New Testament. In possessing that you have the best book in the worlds a book whicfi angels could not have composed : a book which the primitive Christians esteemed more than tlieir lives j rather than suffer one of the Gospels or Epistles to be destroyed, they submitted to the most cruel tor- ments, and endured tlie most lingering, ignominious deaths. But for this book we should have been in worse than Egyptian darkness : the intellectual world would have been without a sun 3' we should have blundered in the dark j have stumbled upon error after error, witliout one cheering and enlightening ray. ** And found no end in wondering rnaze^ lost." But in those sacred pages life and immortality is brought to light j a glorious prospect is opened to- us c 5 beyond 34 lackington's confessions. beyond the grave, where clouds aud darkness are n# more. I am glad you have friends who will lend you plenty of books. Yes, he must be stupid indeed, whom even a little knowledge in astronomy does not fill with devotion. In ardent contemplation*. 'i rapid car, From earthf as from my barrier I set out. How swift I mount ! diminish'd earth recedes ; I pass the moon; and, from her farther side, Pierce heav'n's blue curtain ; strike into remote; Where with his tube, the subtile sage His artificial, airy journey takes. And to celestial lengthens human sight. I pause at e\* ry pla7iet on my road, And ask for Him who gives these orbs to roll, Their foreheads fair to shine. . . .Trom Saturn's Ri>c^ In which of earths an army might be lost. With the bold comet tiike my flight, And those sovereign glories of the skies. Of independant, native lustre, proud ; The souls of systems ! and the lords of life, Thro' their wide Empires ! — What behold I now 7 A wilderness of wonders burning round ; Where larger suns inhabit higher spheres ; Perhaps the villas of descending gods ; Nor halt I here, my toil is but begun ; 'Tis but the threshold of the Deity ! The fulness of the Deity breaks forth In inconceivables to men and gods. Did I not tell thee we would mount, Lor£N'zo, And kindle devotion at the stars f DR. YOUNG. But even among the stars do not forget yoin: New Testament i tliat, by the blessing of God, may make you wise unto salvation : and should that really be the case with you, perhaps you may be employed to all eternity in contemplating infinite wisdom and goodness among those stupendous works of the great incomprehensible CREATOR of tliose innu- merable worlds. Till lost in one immensity of space, A sense of Deity o'er whelms your soul, courtiir. If lackington's confessions. 35 If among the books of divinity that you are so kind- ly offered the use of, you can borrow any of the fol- lowing, they will help to establish you in the belief of the truth of Divine Revelation: — Paley's Evi- dences of Christianity; Bishop Watson's Apology for the Bible, in Letters to Thomas Paine ; Bishop Porteus' Compendium of the Evidences of Christiani- ty ; Addison's Evidences of the Christian Religion 5 Madam Genlis' Religion the only Basis of Happi- ness and true Philosophy, in which die Principles of the modern pretended Philosophers are laid open and refuted, 2 vols. Butler's Divine Analogy ; Bent- ley against Collins ; Bentley's Sermons on the Folly of Adieism 3 Jenkin's Reasonableness and Certainty of the Christian Religion, 2 vols. I have lately read the whole of diesc works with great satisfaction. If you are fond of real philosophy and astronomy, you will be highly pleased with Bentley's Sermons on the Folly of Atheism. Paley's is an extraordinary good work. Butler's Analogy is a veiy great work. Jenkin'sis the most copious and the best work I ever read in defence of divine revelation. It treats In a clear manner of the necessity of a divine revelation, antiquity of the scriptures, God's dispensations un- der the Patriarchs, Moses, Judges, Kings, and Christ; the wisdom and goodness of God i^ excel- lently displayed in die manner of die promulgation and preservation of the scriptures ; various diflicul- ties are cleared and objections answered. The au- thor has, through the whole, discovered great depth of thought, a thorough knowledge of the history of the four great monarchies mentioned in die Old Testa- ment, and of other ancient nations ; which he has brought forward in confirmation of the truth of di- vine revelation. In reading this excellent learned production I could not help remarking the wonder- ful difference that diere is between diis work and the poor superficial works of freethinkers. Had diose freethinkers ever read diis work, they never would have exposed their own ignorance as diey have c 6 done; 3(5 LACKINGTON'S CONl-EbSIOSS. done j nnd kid you and I, and others of our ac- quaintance, been acquainted witJi it, we never should have been so seduced, perverted and imposed upon by shallow pretenders to sense and learning. Were I still a bookseller, I would immediately work oft' a very large impression, sell them cheap, and disperse them through every part of the world. The work has gone through various editions. It J^as been greatly enlarged and improved since it was first published. Before I conclude I would seri- ously advise you not to read any . controversies on points of doctrine or articles of faith ; what is absolutely necessary to be known is plainly re- vealed. •* Not deeply to e only way of living happily in this world; yet, w« are such poor purblind mortals as to wish to ex- tinguish the sun and walk by a taper 3 we first grow tired of the necessary restraints which the religion of Christ enforces, and think his gracious precepts hard sayings: in this state of mind, having already lost part of the disposition and temper of Christie ani ty, we grow more remiss in public worship and private devotion, in observing the sabbath, &c then conscience upbraids and makes us unhappy; and if in this state of mind we happen to read, 01 hear, any sceptical arguments against revealed religion, dovibts and perplexity succeed, and the more a person doubts of the divine authority of the gospel precepts, the more careless will he live; but still conscience will disturb his quiet and per- haps make him quite miserable at times. In ihis unstable state he may continue for several montlis or years, till, at length, to get rid of his uneasy mind, he dips again into books of infidelity, where probably he finds God represented as not attending to the frailties and follies of mortals ; or perhaps he finds virtue and vicQ represented as qualities capable 42 lackington's confessions. capable of arbitrary definitions, revealed religion as mere priestcraft, &c. &c. In such authors, specious arguments are adduced, often good rea- soning from wrong proj^o.sitions, and truth and falsehood are , so artfully blended together, that in the end he is prevailed upon to give up hh Chris- tianity J and by degrees his conscience is quite laid" asleep. ' In my next I will give you a furtlier account of my progress in infidelity. I am, Sir, Your's, &c, Alveston, Feb. 8, 1803. J. L." I had some thoughts of abridging this letter to Mr. D. but on second thought I judged it best to give you the whole. I am. Dear Friend, Your's. LETTER IX. In hellish banquets, and obscene deh'ghts, The curst assembly here consume the nights. E. nowE. — — Scarce the gods, and heavenly climes. Are safe from our audacious crimes. drvden. If derah were nothing, and naught after death ; •^ Then might the debauchee Untrenibling mouth the heavens: then might the drunkard Reel o'er his full bowl, and when 'tis drain'd, Fill up another to the brim, and laugh At the poor bui^bear death : — then might the wreteh That's weary of the world, and tir'd of life, .'Vt once steal out of being when he pleas'd. And whether by what way, by hemp or steel. But lackington's confessions. 43 But if there's an hereafter ; And that there is conscience tells ev'ry man ; Then must it be an awful thing to die. Who thinks ere long the man shall wholly die, Is dc-ad already j naught but the brute survives. DR. DEAR FRIEND, I WILL now transcribe my second letter to Mr. D. I know not well how to make it shorter. '' Sir, Perhaps for some time the young freethinker does not commit any great sin, at least not what is called such ; it is likely he will for a while pride himself on his very decent conduct, and talk of being governed by the religion of na- Uwe, philoGophical principles, &c. But having given up Christianity he- soon grows tired uf his religious acquaintance, as he does not like their endeavours and serious arguments to convince him of his error. Having got rid of his pious ac- quaintance he looks out for some of those, who, 'like himself, are become philosophers. Witli those he at first takes *' a philosophical walk,'* or '* cup of tea." As their acquaintance increases they dine at each other's house. When this young freethinker is tli ought to be pretty well confirmed in his aversion. to Christianity, he -is in- vited to dine or sup with a party of those philoso- phers at a tavern. The two or three first times he goes home early and in good order. In tliose convivial parties he hears many stories against parsons, and many witty jests upon religion, un- der tlie name of superstition 5 so that, by degrees, he becomes more hardened, his love for those meetings increases and makes him unwilling, to part with such jovial companions. '' Sure taking a 4-i lackington's confessions. a cheerful glass can be no sin 3 God^ say they, delights to see his creatures happy : let us have another bottle j" which is perhaps accompanied with an obscene or blasphemous song. Another song and another bottle is 'called for tmtil" they are intoxicated. In this state they reel into the street at two or three in the morning, where they are sometimes picked up by prostitutes and enticed into brothels, from whence they curry home to their wives those loathsome diseases which often contaminate the blood of several generations, and for which their own children will perhaps execrate their memory. In tJiis manner many soon learn to spend most of their nights ; their days are mostly consumed in Rleep 3 their business is lost^ their fortunes run out; and their constitution totally ruined. Some of tliem -are carried off by sudden deaths ^ others linger out a few years in great misery, and then die in a horrid state of doubt and foatful npprchension. And not a few of tl>ose philosophers have, by their princi- ples and conduct, brought themselves into such an unhappy state of mind as not to be able to endure existence, but have • Just reeking from self-slaupr^iter, in a rage, ** Rush'd into the presence of their Judge ; <* As if they challeng'd him tx> do his worst." Although those imaginary philosophers see their companions drop oft' one after another, they are so iar from taking warning that they do all tlie'y can to harden one another, by urging ever}- argument they can think of against the immortality of tlie soul, a future state, and even against tlie very being of a God ! I could fill volumes, were I to be particular, in describing the beginning and progi'ess of infidelity among tliose whom I have known since I first com- menced bookseller, as many of them came often to my LACKINGTON S CONFESSIONS. 45 my sfiop, and about twenty-two years since I was often in such taverns and naeetings as I have referred to above. Before the French revolution, inlideHty had made great havock in England j but there is great reason to fear that since it has increased an hundred fold : and God only knows- where this destructive pesti- lence will end. It, however, is matter of great con- solation to see thLit several of our Bishops, and other sensible, learned clerg}'men, and also some able di5.^nting ministers, have published jexcellent con- futations of the works of intidel.s. The clergy have also taken other wise and pious measures to stop, as much as possible, the progress of infidelity ; and every man that has any regard for religion or mo- rality, should put a hand to the good work. Those who can afford to do it should purchase such tracts g eternal happiness with a short life of vir- tue. He insinuates that the old saints, who had respect to the recompence of reward, were cunning people, and only good from the fear of hell and the hope of heaven. How much is this like the Devil's objection : LACKINGTON S CONFESSIONS. 4() objection ? Job does not serve God for naught. In another place his Lordship asserts that there is no more rectitude, piety, or sanctity in a creature thus reformed, than tiiere is meekness or gentleness in a tyger strongly chained, or innocence and sobriety in a monkey under Uie discipline of the whip. If the rewards proposed to Christians had been like those promised by Mahomed to his followers, sensual and volupt\ious j his Lordship would have had some reason to object to their being proposed as incentives to virtue 3 but the idea given us in the New Testament, of the happiness in a future state is noble and sublime. It is represented as '* a state of '* consummate holiness, goodness, and purity, ^* where we shall arrive to the true perfection of *^ our natures ; a stiite into which nothing shall. eU" '' ter that diifikth ; where the spirits of the just are '*" made perfect, and even their bodies shall be re- " lined to a wonderful degree j where they shall '' be associated to the glorious general assembly of *^ holy and happy souls, and to the most excellent '^ part of God's creation, with whom they shall **' cultivate an eternal friendship and harmony 5 '' and, which is chiefly to be considered, when *V they shall be admitted to the immediate presence " of the Deity, and shall be transformed^ as far as *' they are capable of it, into the divine likeness. '^ Such is the happiness the gospel setteth before *' us, and which fiuni-»heth a motive fitted to work '^ upon the worthiest minds. And tlie being ani- ^' mated with the hopes of such a reward hatli '' nothing mean or mercenary in it, but rather is an ^^ argument of a great and noble soul." As to the fear of punishment, his Lordship, al- though inconsistently with what he in other places asserts, (in vol. 2. pag. 273 of his Characteristics,) kays, that although fear allowed to be ever so low or base ; '^ yet, religion being a discipline, and pro- *^ gress of the soul towards perfection, the motive '* of the reward and punishment is primary and of » '^ the 50 lackington's confessions. '^ the highest moment with us -, till being capable of '' more sublime instructioos we are let from this " servile state, to the glorious service of affection ^' and love." It may be also remarked, that after a wicked man has been roused by the terrors of the Lord, if he continue to obey the good motions of the Spirit, God then gives him a clean hearty and renews a right spirit within him. He then begins to love God, and fears to offend him, fears to be separated from him and his people for ever. The fear of hell is scarcely remembered by a real Christian : but having taken God for his portion, for his supreme happiness, he loves God lecaiise'Godfrst loved him, and his greatest fear is lest he should do any tiling to displease him. He can heartily and truly say to God, Thou art my all ! My strength in age ! my rise in low estate ! My soul's ambition, pleasure, wealth ! — My world ! My light in darkness ! and my life in death ! My boast thro* time I bliss thro* eternity. — But to return. Although I imbibed his Lord- ship's refined notions of virtue, and for many years, at times, talked much in his Lordship's strain, I found those notions insufficient to presence me from falling into some vicious courses. Nothing but the belief of the gospel could induce me entirely to re- nounce the vices and follies of the world, and to live godly y righteously , and soberly in so ungodly and dissipated an age. The motives held out by other systems are insufficient to restrain the passions and evil propensities of man. Yet was I so attached to infidelity, and so blinded by it as not to believe its evil tendency, until for sometime I had obser\-ed how much the morals of men, in every rank and station, had suffered, in a great part of Europe 5 and that every kind of vice was gaining ground in proportion as infidel books and principles were disseminated. I then began to see lackingAn's confessions. Xl aee tliat religion must before have had great influ- ence on tlie morals of mankind, and in that point of view must be very valuable in society; and tliis •Ijrougbt on more serious reflections-. I have for many years taken in several of tlie Re- views of new publications, which are published monthly, and I now begin to read some of the extracts which tlie Reviewers make, from sermonii and other books in divinity. In those extracts I fre- quently found weighty arguments in favour of Chris- tianity. About a year past^ in this way, dui'ing which time I was in rather a careless suspense, and yet I was more attentive to my words and actions ; ^and by clegrees I began to relish divine subjects, and found that they elevated the mind and filled the soul with sublime ideas. I now began to read a little ia the Bible, and took some pleasure in it j and I be- came more and more serious and thoughtful. I had nearly finished a second volume of my I/ife, which I intended soon to publish. I now read it over again, ^nd cropped out and put in again and again, as J thought that I had treated serious subjects with too much levity ; but after all the alterations I was not satisfied that in writing against fanaticism andentlm- siasm, I had not said what might hurt some weak Christians, or what might be by freethinkers brouglA against Christianity. I was now also afraid, lest by ridiculing and laughing at enthusiasm and fanati- cism, I should not only laugh some out of tlieir en- thusiasm, but of tlieir religion also. For tliese, and other reasons of the same nature, I tliought it best not to publish it, by which I have disappointed Bome of my laughter-loving acquaintance. As soon as I had acquired a relish for religious subjects, I wished to promote it in others, and therefore begun witli Mrs. Lackington. Mrs. L. is in her moral conduct on« of the most perfect being* I ever saw. «* Her life*5 as moral is the preacher's tongue^** ^? Her S3 lackington'3 confessions. Her reason for being fio was, '^ because she always thought she ought to be as good as she could." She, like some other ladies, had studied well, and very well understood the art of dressing elegantly, but had not the least knowledge of religion beyond that of being as good as she could ; and by the bye it were to be wished that all ladies even knew as much as that. As to going to church, or private devotion, she could not see of what use it could be to her. As she wanted for nothing, she did not know what she should pray for, she had never done imy person any harm ; she had never slandered, backbited, or ridiculed any person, nor did she know that she committed any other sin, and so she had no need of praying for pardon. In this state of aliairs I sent to my late partners for Seeker's Lectures on the Catechism, Gilpin'i Lectures on the same, Wilson's Sermons, 4 vols, and Gilpin's Sermons. Tliese are very plain dis- courses, easy to be understood, and calculated to leave a very lasting impression on tlie mind. These excellent sermons Mrs. L. and I read together, and while they convinced her, tliat being ** as good as ■ she could" was perfectly right, and of the utmo>t importance ; y^t that tiiere was something more in tferuTJon. They also mavle me more in love with Christianity. I also sent for Bishop Watson's Apo- logy for the Bible, in Letters to T. Paine ; Bishop Porteus's Compendium of the Evidences of Chris- tianity, Butler's Divine Analog)-, Paley's Evidences of Christianity, Pilgrim's Good Intent, Pasoal'* Thoughts, Addison's Evidences of Christianity, Conibeare on llevealcd Religion, Madam de Gen- lis's Religion the only Bi^sis of Happiness and sound Philosophy, witli Observations on pretended mo- dern Philosophers, 2 vols. Jenkin's Reasonableness and Certainty of Christianity, and several otliers of the same tendency. Those excellent defences of revealed religion I read through, daring which I had many stiiiggles ; in tte beginning I sometimes criei LACKINGTON S CONFESSIONS. '5^ cried out in the words of Thomas, " Lord I believe, help thou my unbelief:" before I had read out those defences, I was not only almost, but altoge- ther persuaded to be a Christian. And 1 hope that I shall always endeavour to live as becometh the gospel of Christ 5 and, at times, I feel an humble confidence that God has, or will, pardon all my. past sins for tlie sake of Christ, and by his grace enable me to persevere in well doing to the end of this transitory life, and then admit me into that state where the wonders of his grace, and the mys- teries of his providence shall be more clearly under- stood. I meant to inform you, that besides those bookg already mentioned, I sent for Bibhop Home's Ser- mons, 4 vols. Carr's Sermons, Blair's Sermons, 5 vols. Scott's Christian Life, 5 vols, several learned and sensible expositions of the Bible ; Calmet's L»icLionary uf the Bible, with the Fragments 3' Jo- gephus's Works, Prideaux's Connections, 4 vols. Mrs. H. Mora's Works, and various other excellent Works. For some time one sermon was read cm every Sunday, but soon Mrs. L. began to like tliem, and then two or three were read in (he course of the week ; at last one at least was read every day, and very often part of some other book in divinity, as- Mrs. L. said that she preferred such kind of reading far beyond the reading of novels. So that for some- time we have read more books in divinity than on any other subjects ; and now Mrs. L. sees very im- portant reasons for going to church, sacrament, &:c. I am. Sir, your's, SiC. Alveston, Fel, 20th, 1803. J. L." I have now given the whole of what I wrote to Mr. D. and will add no more, but that I am, f)ear friend, » ' Your's. D 3 LETTER -M XACKINGTON's 'C0KrEi>SI0N5, LETTER XI. Silent Tve seen, and with a pitying cyfe Your follies markM, and unadmonish'd Left^ Though tenderly lamenting ! Yet at last, — If haply not too late my friendly call Strike on deaf ears. Oh, profit by that calU And to the grave approach, its alarms Weigh with me, all considerate ! Brief time Advances quick in tread ; few hours and darji- Remain : those hours in frivolo\»s employ Waste not impertinent ; they ne'er return ! Nor deem it dulness to stand still and pause When dread Eternity, hath claims so high, lorenzo ! this black brotherhood renounce ; Renounce St. Evremont and read St. Paul. Ere wrapt by Miracle, by Reason wingM, f lis mounting mind made long Abode in heav*n. PEAR FRXENDj THE following letters were sent to Tom Thoughtless, an infidel, whose vices brought ruin on himself, and also on his family. '^ Sir, After so many years^ you will perhaps be sur- prised to see my had hand-writing again. — A short time since, I found among my books a thin folia MS. in turning it over, I found copies of letters which passed between you and me in the years 1777j- and 1778 : I read them over with much concern, '4s I found in some of mine to you I had endeavoured to weaken your belief in the divine authority of the Scriptures, and some of the blessed doctrines which they contain. My knowledge is very circumscribed now, but at that time it was much more so, as I was but very little acquainted with men, and less with books, so that it is not surprising that I should nut LACKINGTON*S CONFESSIONS. 55 Jiot be able to detect the sophistical arguments, and other vile arts of Chubb, Tyndal, Morgan, Collins, Shaftesbury, Voltaire, &c. Nor was it possible that I should be able to detect the misrepresentations and wrong translations of many texts of scripture, and of passages from Greek and Latin authors, that are to be found in their works. The next twenty years I procured nearly every book in the English language that favoured the cause of intidelity, and employed much of my spare time in reading them, without reading the many able confutations tliat had been published to expose their folly and wickedness : and as I scarcely ever attended any place of divine worship, it was scarcely possible' for me, under these circumstances, to return to the path of truth. My return was also rendered more difficult by my conduct in life, for I fell into some of the vices and follies of the age, and vice never fails to dri\e us further from truth and God :— If one who indulges himself in sinful practices should, like Pilate, ask What is truth ? he does not wait for an answer, but dissolves tJie court of Conscience. During those years I was also, as you know, taken up with the concerns of a very large business j and, I am sorry to add, the great profits that I derived from that business, rather tended to drive from my thoughts those important concerns witli which they should, more or less, always be occupied. But I am able to say, that although I got money very fast, particularly during the two last years that I was in business, and lived in an expensive style j yet T ne» ver so far lost my reason as to suppose that riches, or a vain parade, could ever make me happy. My leisure hours were mostly spent in retirement at my country-house. There I read those publications that have been sent into the world by infidels. I also there read poetry, plays, novels, voyages, tra- vels, history, &c. &c. As I was not infatuated by the love of riches, or grandeur, it was with pleasure I first took partners D 4 into 56 lackington's confessions. into my very profitable trade, on very easy icrmi^ \& them, and soon after tliat disposed of the whole concern. It is nov/ near eight years since I first retired to th\s place, nor have Tbeen in London since. I retained a share of my business for about two years and half after I came here, and then made over the whole to my cousin, Mr. George Lackington, and those gentlemen who were my partners before. In this retreat, I pursued the same course of reading, until I was roused from my careless state of mind, by observing the dreadful effects which liad. succeeded the spreading of infidelity. The more I reflected, the more was I filled with horror at the moral depravity tliat I saw increasing among all ranks. From those reflections I was soon led to conclude that the works which had produced such baleful effects, must be fatally wrong. By degrees 1 laid my freetliinking books aside, and begim once more to study my Bible. To assist me in that study r sent for several learned, sensible commentaries on the scriptures, and also for many other books in di- vinity, including the best answers that had been made to writers on the side of infidelity ; so that I am now convinced of their sophistry. — Misrepre- sentations, unfair quotations, and other vile arts with which their works abound. I had also again recourse to Young's Ntght Thoughts. The 5th, Gth, /th, and 8th Nights, Tne replete with strong arguments against infidelity, so that I can scarcely think it pos.^il^le for the most confirmed infidel, who is capable of understanding the force of the argiuuents, and will read tliem with proper attention, to help being convinced of tie truth of Christianity. But it is a melancholy truth, that vice greatly tends to stupi fy the mind, and of- ten makes us blind to divine truths ; the late pious Bishop Home says, *' Midnight overwhelmeth not " the earth with a grosser darkn'^ss, than tliat which " 16 superinduced upon tlie heai't of man, when it '' departetli lACKINGTOX's CONFESSIONS. 5^ ♦' dcparteth from God, and is turned away from ** its Maker, * He that followeth not Christ ♦' walketh in darkness/ because the light of life ** shineth no longer upon his tabernacle." I have for some years been acquainted with tlie history of Greece, and witli the various opinions of the Grecian philosophci's, yet the new and pleasing form in which it is dressed up in Barthelemy's Tra- vels of Anarcharsis, induced me to read it again lately, and by reading it I was confirmed in the be- lief of the truths contained in the gospel. The truly great and good men of Greece, hundreds of years before Christ came, discovered that man had departed from his original state of purity 3 tliat hap- piness in this life was only to be attained by a virtu- ous conduct : they also taught the immortality of the soul, a future judgment, and that tlie vicious fthould be punished, and the virtuous rewarded in another world. The shallow, superficial, pretended philoso- phers of om* day, alfect to disbelieve the Christian doctrines. Many of the philosophers, and otlier great men of Greece and Rome, \\ ho lived in the time of the Apostles and dieir immediate successor^, who had every opportunity of iiu|uiring into the tiiTthofwhat they asserted concerning Christ, his miracles, death, resurrection, ascension, his send- ing down the Holy Spirit, miraculous gifts, &:c- Those philosophers, statesmen, courtiers, Sec. were 80 throughly convinced of tlie trutli of what the apostles and followers of Christ asserted, and of tlie- doctrines they taught, that tJiey openly professed themselves to be Christians, although- they well knew that by so doing, tlxey should be deprhed of tlieir riches, pomp and grandeur j they gladly em- braced a life of poverty, ignominy, and suffering > and at last shed their blood in the glorious caiise. The scorching fire, the racking wheel, The scourging rod, ;jncl bloody steel i E»^U 53 LACKIN6T0N''S C0iJrE6S£CUfif. Each ruthless instrument of pain That 'i yranny could e'er devise, Or hellish foes inflict, were vain> To shake the courage of the skies ! Your hopes no earthly terrors could subdue ; Consummate happiness appear'd in view. COURTIER. Our freethinkers reject the miracles wTought by Christ ^iid his followers, and yet they would have us believe fer greater miracles j as they would per- suade us, that a poor carpenter's son, without books, or even a place to lay his head, yet that tliis ^oor houseless man, and a few plain fishermen, were able, of themselves, to lay down tlie most perfect system of morality that ever was taught by mortals, and by so doing, exceed all the most learned, the wisest and best lawgivers, and philoso- phers, that e\er the world have produced : and that those fishermen should give up all their former prejudices and religious notions, should quit all dieir friends and acquaintance, and embrace a life of poverty, endure unspefakable hardships, submit to the gi-eatest sufferings, imprisonments, and the most painful deaths. And all this to propagate (according to infidels) what they must know to be a falsehood. So that infidels who charge Christians witii being credulous, are far more so themselves, they being in reality the most credulous beings in the world. Moreover, infidels know that not a parti- cle of divisible matter can perish, yet would they have us believe that the soul,, which is spiritual, immaterial, indivisible, and immortal, can be an- nihilated. There is yet a- greater absurdity which the^ would have us believe, viz. that millions of effects have taken place without a cause, or that se- cond causes . may, and actually do exist without a first.' Now, when you learn that I read" and seri- ouily lackington'^s confessions. 5Q ously reflect as above, I presume you will not be much surprised that I should again return like the poor prodigal^ and acknowledge that I have sinned against heaven. I must also inform you, that I have seen the most dreadful effects of infidelity, not only amongst mankind in general, but also amongst my acquain- tance j some, who before they commenced free- thinkers, were upright, honest, industrious men, and as such were prosperous in their various lines of business ; on turning freethinkers became knaves and cheats, debauchees, &c. Several of tliese you well know 5 their vile conduct is also well known to you, nor are you ignorant of the ruin that they brought on themselves and families. I think you also knew A. B. and his brother 5 they, it is true, retained their honest principles ; but they learned very bad habits, took to drinking and debauchery, which brought on A. B. dreadful disorders 5 he lived some years in a miserable state, and died about three years since. His brotlier died a year before him. You also know that D. C. turned freethinker near thirty years since, shut up his shop, left his wife and children to the parish, or to the wide world, sunk down among the dregs of society in London, and about tw^enty years since was turned out of die Lock-Hospital incurable } when I was in T-— n last June, he was in the poor-house in a mi- serable state of body, and, no doubt, of mind also. J. D, whom, with other jovial companions, perhaps you, when you was in L/ondon, saw, died soon hfter that time. 'T. A. ran off, and left five poor servant girls with child by him. I have never since heard of him. I have not time to give you account of others. What hon-id effects the principles of freethink- ers have had on yourself^ your wife, and brother, I leave you to reflect on j I must just remark, that you and your brother might now have been genteel tradesmen, your wife might have been stiil alive d6 and OO tACKINGTON's CONFESSIONS. and happy, and each of your families decently brought up in the principles of religion and virtue. It is well kno\\Ti, that thousands by becoming unbelievers have forsaken their religious and moral habits, and become depraved and miserable in both body and mind. Many have been reduced to such an extremely wretched state as not to be able to bear the miseries which they had brought on them- selves, and so ha^ e cut short tliat life which was be- come a pest to society, and an intolerable burthen to themselves. Others have taken leave of this world under the gallows, and some are in the road to it. I am. Sir, sorry that your conduct has for many years prevented me from subscribing myself. Your friend, Ahveston, Feb. 25th, 1S03. J. L." Although I ha\e transcribed so long a letter, yet I must inform you, that soon after R. W. became a freethinker, his wife became not only a free- thinker, but ^free-actor. They lived at some rat<^ together for many years 3 at last a separation took place, but she proving with child while separated from her husband, to hide her disgrace took some- . thing to cause an abortion, which destroyed her ©wn life. J am. Dear friend, Your's. LETTER XII. He breath'd out his sou), Not daring to put up one prayer for peace At his dark journey's end ; but trembling, wild, Confus'dj of reason as of hope bereft. Cumberland's calvary* Convinc'd by fatal proofs, the Atheist her^ Yields to the sharp tormenting evidence* lackington's confessions. ^I The Libertine his folly here laments, I lis blind cxtiava?,ance, that made him sell Unfading bliss, and everlasting crowns, Immortal transports, and celestial feasts, For the short pleasure of a sordid sin. For one fleet moment's despicable joy. Too late, all lost, for ever lost, Gives to his soul perpetual wounds. e. row*. Oh, Conscience, into what abyss of fears And horrors hast thou driven me ; out of which I find no way, from deep to deeper plung'd ! MILTOX. DEAR FRIEND, I Will now transcribe a copy of my second letter to Tom Thoughtless, '* Sir, 1 know not of any sight so shockuig as that of a poor self-condemned infidel on a sick bed. While he suffers the most acute bodily pain, he has no cordial to cheer his drooping spirits. No ! his mind labours under the most gloomy apprehensions! Those joyous companions with whom he used to dissipate his time and substance, are so far from giving him any comfort, tliat the sight of any of them adds to his misery ; he is ready to curse them in the bitterness of his soul, for having been instm- mental in perverting him. — ^The weaker his body grows, the more strong does he find that reasoning faculty within him, and which he fancied would die with the body. How gladly would he exchange states with his dog that licks his burning hand^ which in anguish he throws over the side of his bed. When in health he degraded himself to a brute, and now he envies the beast, and looks upon him as a superior being. Annihilation, at which one's soul sudders, and which nature abhors, would now be a happy relief 5 but he is too late convinced that his «oul can never cease to exist. Young saysj, Men may live fools, but fools they cannot die. Whik 62 LACKINGTON^S CONFESSIONS. While in health; andhigh. spiritji,. with his sceptical compaiH;jiis about him, he could laUgh at religion, and at heii, and even pass his jukes on the awful Majesty of heaven and earth ; and call his existence in question : could represent Christ as a fanatic, a lunatic^ or as a downright impostor. This shocking delusion is now over, he now finds that the eyes and hand of God are uprm him, and that he must soon be dragged to his awful tribunal : No\V he would give worlds to have* an interest in that divine Intercessor, whom he has so often laughed at and despised ; black despair now seizes bis mind, not a ray of hope can pierce through the gloomy horrors of his soul j pray he cannot, nor has he a wish so to do : his hell is already begun, and he dreads a worse to come ; at last he expires in tortures not to be described. In that dread moment, how the frantic soul Raves round the walls of her clay tenement. Runs to each avenue, and shrieks ♦or help ; But shrieks in vain ! — How wishfully she looks On all she's leaving, now no longer her's ! A little longer, yet a little longer. Oh might she stay, to wash away her stains And fit her for her passage ! — Mournful sight ! H«r very eyes weep hlood ; — and every groan She heavts is big with horror. — But the foe. Like a staunch murd'rer, steady to his purpose,. Pursues her close through every lane of life. Nor misses once the track, but presses on ; Till focc'd at last to the tremendous verge. At once she sinks to everlasting ruin ! I did not intend to quote so much, yet I cannot help transcribing the following narration from Dr. Young's Centaur not Fabulous. *' I am about to represent to you the last hours ojf -*^ a person of high birth, and great parts. '^ The death-bed of a profligate is next in horror " to that abyss to wdiich it leads. And he that has *^ seen it, has more than faith to confirm him in *' his creed. I see it now^ For who can forget it ? — lackington's confessions. 6d *' Are there no flames and furies ?-^Yoa know not, ^^ then, what a guilty heart can feel. How dismal ^' it is ? The two great enemies of soul and body, '* Sickness and Sin sink and confound his friend j " silence and darken the shocking scene. Sickness *' excludes the light of heaven j and Sin its blessed '' hope. Oh ! double darkness. '^ See, how he lies, a sad deserted outcast, on a *^ narrow istlimus, between time and eternity ! For " he is Scarce alive. Lashed and overwhelmed on *^ one side, by the sense of sin j on the other, by '^ die dread of punishment ! Beyond the reach of '' human help, and in despair of divine ! ^^ T^ie ghost of his murdered time, (for now no *^ more is left,) all stained with folly, and gashed '^ with vice, haunts his distracted thought. Con- *' science, v!\i\(A\ long had slept awakes. Its late. ^* soft whispers are thunder in his ears j and all "" means of grace rejected, exploded, ridiculed, is " the bolt that strikes him dead. He lies a '*■ wretched wreck of man on the shore of eternity, ** and the next breatli he, draws blows him off intp *^ ruin. ^' The greatest profligate is, at least, a momen- '^ tary saint, at such a sight 5 for this is a sight that '^ plucks off the mask of folly, strips her of her gay " disguise, which glittered in the false lights of this- '' world's mummery, and make her appear to be ^' folly, to the greatest fool. *^ Is not the death-bed of a profligate the mcjst *' natural and powerful antidote for the poison of *-^ his example ? Heals not the bruised scorpion the *^ wound it gave ? Intends not Heaven, that, stmck *' with the terrors of such an exit, we should pro- *^ vide comfort for our own \ Would not he, who ^* departs obdurate from it, continue adamant, '^ though one rose from the dead ? For such a scene '' partfy draws aside the curtain that divides time *^ and futurity } and in some measure, gives to sight 64 xackington's confessions. *' that tremendous, of which we only had the feeble " report before. *' An agonizing profligate, though silent, out- '* preaches the most telel^ratcd that, the pulpit ever "' knew : but if he speaks, his words might instruct *' the best instructors of mankind. — Mixt in the *' warm converse of life^ we tiiink with men 5 ^on a " death-bed with God. " The sad evening before the death of that noble ** youth, whose last hours suggested these thoughts, " I was with him. No one was there, but his *' physician, and an intimate whoiu he loved, and '* whom he had i-uined. At my coming in he said ; ** You and the physician are come too late. — I ** have iK'ither life nor hope. You both aim at mi- " rades, you would raise the dead." ^ '* I said, Heaven was mercitul. — (He replied,) '* Qi- 1 could not have been thus guilty. What *' has it not done to bless and to save me ? I have *' been too strong for Omnipotence ! I have plucked *' down ruin." " I said the Blessed Redeemer. — (On which he " said,) ''Hold! Hold! You wound me! — That is the *• rock on which I split — I denied his name." *' Refusing to hear any tiling from me, or take " any thing from the physician, he lay silent, as far •' as sudden darts of pain would permit, till the " clock struck. Then he with vehemence crieil " out, " Oh, Time ! Time ! It is fit thou shouldest '' thus strike tliy murderer to tlie heart.-^— How ai't *' thou fled for ever ! — A montli ] — Oh, for a single '' week ! I ask not for years ; tliough an age wer« " too little for tlie much I have to do." *' On my saying, We could not do too much : *' that heaven was a blessed place ! — (He said) '' So much the worse. Tis lost ! Heaven is t9 '' me the severest pait of hell." '' Sooj; LACKINGTON's CONrESSIONS. 65 *• Soon after, I proposed pra\^er. (On which he said,) .- ., *' Pray you that can. I never prayed. — Nor need 'I. Is not heaven on my side aheady ? It closes ^ with my conscience. Its severest strokes but sc- ' cond my own." '' His friend being much touched, even to tears, ' at this (who could forbear ? I could not), witli a * most affectionate look, he said : *^ Keep those tears for thyself. I have undone ' thee. — Dost weep for me ? That's cruel. What ^ can pain me more r" ** Here is friend, too much affected, would have Mefthim. But he said, '^No, stay. Thou still * mayest hope. — Therefore hear me. How madly I ' have talk'd ? How madly thou hast listened and ' believed ? But look on my present state^ as a full ' answer to thee and myself. This body is all *^ weakness and pain 3 but my soul, as if stung up * by 'torment to greater strength and spirit, is full ' powerful to reason j full mighty to suffer. And ' that, which thus triumphs within the jaws of * mortality, is doubtless huwortol. And as for ' a Deity, nothing less than an Alniighty could in- * fiict what I feel." /^•I was about to speak, when he very passionately ' said, '^ No, no ! let me speak on. I have not long to ^ speak. — My much injured friend ! my soul, as ^ my lx)dy, lies in ruins ; in scattered fragments of ' broken thought j remorse for the past throws my \ thought on the future. Worse dread of the fii- ^ ture, strikes it back on the past. I turn, and ^ turn, and find no ray. Didst thou feel half the * mountain that is on me, thou wouldst stmggle *" with the martyr for his stake ; and bless heaven ^ for the flames : — that is not an everlasting fiame ; * that Id not an unquenchable fire." '^ How were we struck ? Yet, soon after, still ^^ more I 68 lackington's confessions. " more ! With what an eye of distraction, witE ** what a face of despair, he cried out, *' My principles have poisoned my friend ; my " extravagance has beggared my boy -, my unkind- ** ness lias murdered my wife ! And is there ano- '' ther hell ? — Oh, thou blasphemed, yet most indul- ^^ gent, Lord God ! Hell it.elf is a refiige, if it '* hides me from thy frown." *^ Soon after his understanding fryled. His ten'i- *' fied imagination uttered horrors not to be re- *' peated, or ever forgot. And ere the sun arose, *' the gay, young, noble, ingenious; accomplished, '* and most wretched, Altamont expired/* Man, foolish man 1 no more thy soul deceive ! To (^\t is but the surest way to live. broom e. I believe we should have many such dreadful <*xamples on record, were clerg)Tiien called to visit the deatli-bed of infidels, as in this case ; but few infidels will consent for that to be done ; for al- though they may see that they have been fatally mis- lead 'f yet a state of desperation will prevent them from calling on God themselves, or requesting any one to do it for them. — But to return to myself. I must inform you, that it was not by merely reading of defences of Christianity, &c. that I was enabled to discover its truth, and believe its doctrines I was for sometime in a state of suspense, doubt and distraction. But soon tlie pure precepts of the gos- pel began to have some influence on my life and conversation J as I perceived tliat the morality taught by Christ was infallibly right, and I resolved to regulate my conduct according; to his instructions, at least as much as I could: I left off cursing and swearing, filthy talking, &:c. By caution, I soon was able, in a gi'eat measure, to refrain from break- ing out into violent passions on small provocations : to be short, I endeavoured to resist every evil pro- pensity and disposition, and I prayed for divine as- sistance to enable me so to do > and soon found my- self LACKIN^TON*S C6NFESSI0N». 0? self much freed from evil words, actions, ami thoughts ; and found much satisfaction in my mind on being able to conquer bad habits. I had not long lived as much like a Christian as 1 ^ould, before I begun to believe like one, The words of Christ were verified in me. Ify saith he^ ye will do the will of God, ye shall knoiu of the doc^' trines which I teach, whether tJiey he of God, And I cannot help believing, tliat such as truly and sin- cerely perform their duty towards God and man, will, by some means or otlier, be led to tlie know- ledge and belief of all such trutlis as are absolutely necessary to be believed. But while we are ^ilty of impiety towards God, and of doing te our neigh-* hours as we would not that they should do to us ; it is no wonder- if we should ever, he learning, and never he able to come to the hioudedge of the truth. Bv this tune T r^m crnr<-p|y think it possible for you not to see that the Christian has very great ad- vantages over an infidel. Infidelity tends to degrade and sink the man to a brute. Christianity dignifies and exalts its votaries to the skies. ■ Man all immorta], hail ! Hail, heav'n \ — All-lavish of strange gifts to man ! Thine all the glory ; man's the boundless Bliss : Oh, may I breathe no longer, than I breathe My soul in praise to Him, who gave my soul. And all her intinite of prospect fair. DR. YOUSG. Devotion ele^'ates the soul to its native dignity^ when renewed by divine grace it as naturally tends to the great source of its happiness, as fire does to^ wards the sun, or as water towards the sea^ While otliers are saying. Who will sheiv us any good ? Who will shew us the way to be happy ? The Christian says. Lift up thou the light of thy coujite- nance upon me. You know where it is also said, that Gofl^ will keep him in perfect peace whose wind is stayed upon him. In all the changes and trou- bles of tl)is mortal state he^has a divine cordial ta refresU (is lackington's confession^. refresh and cheer his spirits when weak and faint ; even death itself cannot terrify him who stedfastly believes in him who is the resurrection and the life. No one ever heard of a Christian that was troubled, or terrified in his conscience when he came to die, for having been a Christian ; but on the contrary, tens of thousands have in their last hours, set their seal to the truth of its divine doctrines, and have quitted this life m certain hope and joyful expectation of a blessed immortality. The chamber where the good man meets his fate, Is privilegM beyond the common walk Of virtuous hte, quite in the verge of heav'n : ' Here resistless demonstration dwells ; A death-bed's a detector of the heart. Here tir'd dissimulation drops her mask. Heav'n waits not the last moment ; owns her friends On this side death ; and points them out to man ; To vice confusion, an^ *^ -rirt^* j,o«v,v. KIGIIT THOUGHTS. Before I bid you farewell for ever, I beg you to excuse my giving you the trouble of reading two such long letters, as 1 could not rest satisfied in my mind, if I had not informed you of the alteration that has taken place in my sentiments, and of course in my life. If you will read with attention any or the whole of the following books and pamphlets, viz. Addison's Evidences of Christianity, Bishop Watson's Apology for the Bible, in Letters to Paine ^ Bishop Porteus's Compendium of the Evidences of Clu'istianity, Paley's Evidences of Christianity, Jcnkin's Reasonableness and Certainty of Chris- ti.tnity. Madam de Genlis's Religion the only Basis of Happiness and Sound Philosophy. If you will read some of these, I think tliat you also will see what a dreadful delusion you have for so many years been under. Should that not be the case, I would wish you to remember that a Christian has greatly the advantage of you. Were it possible for him to be in a delusion^ it must be a happy delusion that atTords lackington's confessions. G(} affords such sources of comforts in this state of ex- istence^ and even in the liour of deatli. And in case there should be no future state, you will not be able to laugh at him. But should the intidel be in a delusion ! The dye, the fatal dye ! will then be cast, and all will be lost for ever ! I am, Sir, Your's, Alvcston, Feb. 27th, 1803. J. L." Although I have transcribed this veiy long letter, )-et I must inform you, that the person to whom this and the preceding one were wrote, leads so bad a life, tliat I have but small hopes that they will make any lasting impression on him. ■ Heedless man from sin. To sin, runs onward in his mad career, Nor once takes warning of his better guide, Till at the barriers of life's little span Arriv'd, he stops : death opens to his view A hideous gulph ; in vain he looks around For the lost seraph Mope ; beside him stands The tyrant fiend, and urges to the brink ; Behind him black Despair with thrcat'ning frown And gorgon shield, whose interposed orb Bars all retreat, and with its shade involves Life's brighter prospects in one hideous night. — Cumberland's calvary. I am. Dear friend. Your' LETTER 70 lackii^gton'3 confessions. LETTER XIII. . " Those dreadful dangers past, ** Knowledge will dawn, and bless the mind at last.^ Frown not, if the labouring mind Is still perplcx'd; if yet his thoughts demand, VVhy Wisdom infinite, whose ways are peace ; Whose plan perfection ; to so lame a guide So long consign'd the helm ? Why on the soul Flash'd not immediate vision. To point the path to truth ? ogilvie's provxdencie, DEAR FRIEND, NOT many miles from this place lives my old friend Dick Thrifty, Avho was introduced to you in a former letter. I lately paid him a visit, , and soon suspected tliat some alteration had taken place in Dick's sentiments from the change which I perceived in his conduct. I informed you, that after Dick commenced freethinker he was not always able to resist the temptations of immodest women. At this inteniew I remarked that he was disgusted with a genteel dressed man for having talked loosely in the absence of the ladies 3 he repeated the two well known lines of Pope, Imnvxiest words admit of no defence. For want of decency is want of sense. I also obseiTcd tliat he was displeased witli ano- ther of the company for speaking disrespectfully of the clergy in general. " Whenever I hear (said Dick) any person vilify the clerg)' as a body, I am ob- liged to conclude that he is not only an enemy to re- ligion, but also a foe to morality, and of course a very great enemy to society. I think it is Addison who saySj That such as are prejudiced against the names religion, church, priest, and the like, should consider the clergy as so many philosophers, the chv^cbes LACK1NGT0N*8 COtJFESSIOJlS. 71 churches as schools, and their sermons as lectures for tile reformation and improvement of their audi- ence. How would tlie heart of Socrates or Tully have rejoiced had tliey lived in a nation where the law had made provision for philosophers to read lec- tures of morality and theology, every seventli day, in several schools erected at the public charge, through the whole countr)' 5 at which lectures, all ranks and sexes, without distinction, were obliged to be present for their general improvement. And what wicked wretches would tlie)^ think those men who should endeavour to defeat the purpose of so divine an institution!" I was also glad to find that Dick was a great en- courager of Sunday-schools, and also of day-schools for the poor who are unable to pay for their chil- dren's schooling. He informed me ttiat some gen- tlemen of his neighbourhood were averse to such schools, merely because they wished not to subscribe a trifle toward their support 3 and yet, said he, those gentlemen think themselves Christians ! It perhaps may appear rather odd, but I remem- ber that, many years since, Dick, although a free- thinker, never liked to hear thoughtless young men speak against religion, but would even take pains to convince them that they were ignorant of what they were finding fault with j that they v^ere enemies to religion because it condemned them for their irre- gularities. He "would even tell them that they were only planting thorns in their sick or death-beds. I even recollect that when a young man was once ar- guing against the being of the Deity, that he lent him Knight, on the Being and Attributes of God, and very seriously advised him to read it with atten* tion; and this too at a time when he was very scep- tical himself: But I strongly suspect that Dick is quite altered in his principles. Formerly, Dick used to assert that all the pre- cepts of morality contained in the gospel were taught by the heathen philosophers. But now he is convinced 72 LACKINGTON's CONFESSION!. convinced of his mistake, and he has discovered that their best precepts were derived from divine revelis- tion, partly through the Jews who were scattered amongst all nations, and partly from the Old Testa- ment after it was translated into Greek. Josephu* has fully proved this point. Formerly, Dick thought that Socrates was a more exalted personage than Christ ; now he asserts, that Christ was a far superior chari^cter to Socrates, and that the morality which he taught is the most pure, and best calculated to make mankind happy, — diat a nation of /ra/ Christians would be a heaven upon earth. Some years since, Dick would talk much about the charming liberty of thinking freely, enjoyed by such as shake off the fetters \\hich the priests had ri- vetted on mankind 3 now he does not scruple to ac- knowledge that, upon the whole, he thinks a real Christian has greatly the advantage, even in tin's life, of the unbeliever. I can, (said he to a frieijd one day,) almost believe Bishop Home's description of the Christian religion. He then took down a volume of the good Bishop's sermons, and read tli« following passage : ** A religion cheerful in itself, and making thos« " cheerful who are partakers, of it; cheerful in trou- *' ble; cheerful out of trouble; cheerful while they "live; cheerful when they die; cheerfiil in using *' well the blessings of this life; cheerful in expect- ** ing the blessings of the next; cheerfld through *' pain, while they believe in the great and precious '' promises made to them; cheerful through hopi^ '* wliich depends on their accomplishment; cheer- "' i\\\ through charity, in doing acts of mercy and *M(n Ing kindness ; till they come to that land of **^ plenty where none shall want; to those regions ** of joy from whence sorrow shall be for ever ~ex- *' eluded." While my friend Dick was reading the above passage he *eeme CONFESSIONS. /S LE^JlTER XIV. <' Ilus virtue charms f" — I grant her heay'nly Ftir; But it" unportion'd all will int'rest wed ; Tlio' that our admiration, this our choice: The virtues grow on immortality ; That Root destroy'd they wither and expire. A Deity believ'd will naught avail ; Rewards and punishmenls make God ador*d ; And hojics ^nA fears give amscievce all her jwwV. As in the dying parent dies the child, Firtuey with immortality ^ expires, or. young. Iscariot thus false adoration paid, Hail'd when he seiz'd, saluted and betray'd. WESLEY. Ye baptized infideU ! " Ye worse for mending ! vrash'd to ff)uler staias DEAR FRIEND, IN giving yt)u my furtlier obser^a- tions on Dick Thrifty 1 will continue to set them down as nearly as I can, as they occurred. I found him one morning with Law's Serious Call to a Holy Life, and Taylor's Holy Living and Holy Dying, by his side 3 in his hand was the Whole Duty of Man. What ! a philosopher read- ing the '' Whole Duty of Man ?" Had you been reading PufFendorf's Law of Nature, J should not have wondered at it. The reply was, ^' Let me tell you it is worth any philosopher's reading; from what I have read of it, I think it an excellent work." I confessed that I had read but a small part of it ; but from what I had read it appeared to me to be a very good work ; I had sold thousands of that book, and scarce knew of any work that ever had so great and lasting a sale, it being a century and a half since it was first published 3 the other works of the same author have also had a great sale; his Causes of the Decay of Christian Piety shotdd be read more than it is : his Ladies' Calling, and E 2 hh 7(3 ,LACKINGTON's CONFESSION'S. his Gentleman's Calling, are now much neglect- ed, as most of our Ladies and Gentlemen have call- ings of a very ditferent nature, or rather, as it ap- pears, have no calling at all. Taylor's Holy LAving and Dving, he said, was also an excellent work. I also joined in its praise. Law, in his Serious Call, he thought, had some of the most convincing arguments he ever met with, and his Characters were master-pieces of the kind. I said, that I had lately read it with great pleasure, and* I hoped with some protit." But, Dick, have you discarded the old heathen moralists ? " No, I believe I shall sometimes dip into them as long as I livej I think, with you, that I have de- rived much benefit from reading them."/ I told hini, while I was reading Seneca, Plutiirch, Epictetus, kc. I had often fancied myself a great philosopher, and conceited tJiat my passions were subdued. *' Why that is just my case, and perhaps an hour •ifter I have indidged those fine ideas, 1 sutler an ©Id womiin, or a servant, to disturb, or even de- stroy, my line philosophical tranquillity ; and then I am ashamed to liud myself such a poor weak morUd." *' Virtue is kept alive by care and toil." Dick continued, '' I now have often recourse to divines ; they write like men having authority, and they adduce stronger motives for us to subdue or regulate our passions and tempers 3 and I diink tfiey have . much more influence on my conduct than the mere reasoning of the ancient philoso- phers. You know that formerly I read pretty much divinity, and although the intimacy was long broken off, by my having contracted an aversion to tliose pious writers, because tliey tlneatened free- tliinkers with hell ; yet we are become good friends again: so that wlieusver I look into any of tho^* lackington's confessions. 77 books, it seems like chilling on an old sensible ac- quaintance that I had not seeii for many years; I am much pleased while conversing on old subjects 5 and, though I might not approve of every thing he says, yet the conversation upon the whole m?ry be pleasing and improving." Dick, said I, you used to be open and above dis- guise; I have freely confessed to you, that I have sincerely repented of my long apostacy from the truth, and humbiy hope for pardon and salvation through that Saviour whom you and 1 despised : teH me, are not you also convinced of your error? Are you not in heart a Christian ? " An honest Deist, where tlie gospel shines, •* Matui'd to liobler in the Christian ends." ^' I confess," he replied, " that my sentiments are much altered, as you must have perceived. You and I have often read the same books, and made the same observations on men and things 3 so that you will not be much surprised if I have been affected pretty much like yourself, by remarking the same events. I shall cany my remarks further back tlian you have done. You know that before the French revolution took place 1 had some young men and boys in my house as apprentices and shopmen. I have reason to think that those young people were not ignorant of my sentiments, for as they dined 'with me and my friends, they must have, at times, heard free conversations, jokes on priests, kc. if not worse : for although I was not fond 'of propagating irilidelity, yet from hiy friends, and perhaps from myself also, they must know tliat I paid no attention to religion. It is also likely that they read my free- thinking books. They also knew that I did not at- tend at aiiy place of worship, nor did I require them to do it 5 that my whole family spent Sundays in idle amusements. Those young men left me, and began the world without any sense of religion. , E 3 Several /S LACKINGTON's CONrESSlONs, Several of them, I believe, were freethinkers > nearly the whole of them di.ssipated the whole of what property they had of their own, got in- to debt, and became bankrupts. But though I *aw the etfects of infidelity in tliem, 1 v^as not pro- perly affected by it. But since the French revolu- tion, when I perceived the sad effects produced by the spreading of infidelity, I began to think more seriously on the ct)n sequences ^ but I was not fully ;4equainted witli the extent of its mischief until I came into the country to live, and found that it had infected all ranks, from the castle to the cot- tage. ** A new world rises and new manners reign.*' ^^Gentlemen's sei-vants, having been taught infide- lity in London, and while waiting at table, hdve spread the contagion throughout the region of their acquaintance. Paine's Age of Reason has been handed from cottage to cottage. The honest and industrious part of the poor, amidst their poverty and afflictions, used to derive great consolation from the hopes of a better world to come 3 but Paine and Co. have deprived them of their only comfort and support, and left them discontented with tlieir sta- tion, and ready for mischief. Many that used to be constant at church on Sundays, now go to tho ale- house, where they encourage one another in irre- ligion and vice. Many that used to read their bibles in order to become better husbands, better fatliers, better subjects, better neighbours, &c. now, if they look into it at all, it is only to endeavour to turn it into ridicule. *' The hopes of heaven, and the fear of hell, I now am fully convinced certainly had very great influence on the conduct of thousands, who now laugh at any talk of the day of judgment, heaven and hell ; anti having got rid of those restraints, they indulge them- selves in one vice after another, until no wickedness is too bad for them to commit/* lu LACKINGTON b CONFESSIONS. /() In proof of what you assert, (I replied,) permit me to inform you, that about two years since I mad« an excursion into the West of England ; happening to spend a few hours in a large town through which I passed, I called on a very respectable tradesman, an old acquaintance of mine. While we were con- versing in his shop on the great prevalence of infi- delity and its immoral tendency, one of his neigh- bours, a very decent-looking man, came in, who, [ learnt in the. course of conversation had lately been a very wicked infidel and a rebel, but had repented of his infidelity and was become a loyal subject, and a pious Christian. He informed us, that while he lived in London, (which was about four or five years before this con- versation,) he worked in a shop with twelve othei- men, eleven of whom and himself were infidels, and that the whokj of them were rebels. To such a height of wickedness and infatuation had these poor wretches arrived, that six, of them set out one day with a fixed determination to kill , a certain person. In the Strand, one of the most desperate of tiiese execrable villains was taken ^o very ill as to be able to go no furtlierj but this did not deter the others, but on they went to j^rpetrate the dreadful deed, which they would have effected had not au uncommon circumstance taken place which pre- vented the horrid crime from being committed. This circumstance I cannot relate, as the mention- ing that would discover the person they intended to murder. I also observed that the doctrines of rewards and punishments were taught in a confused and imper- fect manner by the old heathens 3 that the belief of those doctrines, and the fear of the avenging gods had very great influence on the moral conduct of mankind in general: and it is worth remarking that Juvenal, in his second satire, imputes the shockino- and detestable crimes which disgraced Rome in hit E 4 days 80 lackington's C0NFESSI>)NS. days to the iniidel notions that then prevailed among them. A life to come and righteous rcalnif below, Virtue to crown, and deal to vice its woe ; Much more a surly Charon at hisj'trry, A puddled Styx, horse, Jrogs, and crowded 'U'hcrnj ,• Are now, tho* sacred deem'd in days of old. Tenets which none but arrant children hold. Hold thou thy father's creed •, revere as true The faith from whence their generous virtues drev^. Owen's ju venal. To what^ I said to my friend Dick I vrill now add a passage, which is given as a note^ (p2ge 44, &c.) in Mr. Hall's very excellent sermon at Cam- bridge. ** The testimony of PoLYDius, to the beneficidl eflects which resulted from the Pagan superstition, in fortifying the sentiments of moral obligation, and supporting the sanctity of oaths, is so weighty and decisive, that it would be an injustice to the subject not to insert it -, more especially as it is impossible to attribute it to the influence of credulity on the author himself, who was evidently a sceptic. It is scarcely necessary to remark, that all the benefits which might in any way flow from superstition, are secured to an incomparably greater degree by the belief of true religion. '* But among all tiie useful institutions," sa^s Polybius, ** that demonstrate tlie superior excellence of the Roman government, the most considerable, perhaps, is the opinion which people are tauglu.to hold concerning the gods: and tliat, which ^rher men regard as an object of disgrace, appears in my iudgment to be the very thing by which this repub- lic is chiefly sustained. I mean superstition; which is impressed with all its terrors, and influences tJie private actions of tiie citizens, and the public admi- nistration of the state^ to a degree that can scarcely be exceeded. " The ancients, therefore, acted not absurdly, nor without good reason, when they inculcated the no- hcuis LACKINGTON*£ CONFESSIONS. 81 tlons concerning the gods, and the belief of Infernal . punishments) but much rathveak one j but is it possible lackington's coNrEssioNs. B5 possible for a persontoiive year after year, in the de- liberate comiiTission of any great known sin, and jeally believe that God has appointed a day in uhich he will judge the world in righteousness, and reward every man according to the deeds done in the body, ■whether they have been good or lad. Indeed the scrip- tures rank such among unlelievers; and freetlj inkers should not rank them as believers, but among. tJieir own class. In Gilpin's 4Btli sermon, vol. ^, is the following passage : ''1 address myself next to those who pretend to believe the gospel, and yet neglect its precepts. '* There are many such Christians in the world, — Christians, who go generally to church, — who appear occasionally at tlie sacrament, — and who talk of the bible as tlie best book in the world; but yet, in fact, lead tlieir lives as much at variance with it, as if* it had never been intended as a rule of conduct. They are as much given up to the business, and pleasures, and vanities of life, as much led away by the fashi- ons and dissipated manners which they see around them, as if they believed tliis world was tlie only place where they expected happiness. And yet they profess to believe in a religion tliat will reward all who obey it j and punish all who disobey it. '^ If you really believe all this, the pleasures of this world will appear of little value to you, compared with the happiness of the next ; and the severest restraints of religion, instead of being thought hard- ships, will be received witli cheerfulness. Is this the case? If you are a true believer, the answer is plain ', yet this contradiction between your belief and your practice, makes it^ I fear^ too plain, this is not tlie case. The matter, then, resolves itself into this, that you are in the situation with tlie infidel^ only to his disbelief you add hypocrisy. . ** Ifyou are under tlie in^uence of self-deceit , and imagiile you are more sincere in your belief of these tilings than you really are, put your sincerity to the test 3 try yourself by an easy experiment. You are assured. 8(5 LACKIN'GT0N*S CONFESSIONS. assured^ tliat if you take proper steps, you may get possession of a considerable fortune. If you really believe til is infurmation, how will you act? Will you not take every method in your power that leads to the possession of it? Our blessed Saviour has placed this matter in the same light. -If a man be- lieved there was a treasure in a held, would he not sell all he had and buy the field ? In the affairs of this world, you judge of a man's being sincere in his belief, by the sincerity of his practice. If he be un- der the influence of faith in common life, he never fails to shew his faith by its influence on his actions. It is exactly the same in religion. You pretend to believe that you shall give an account hereafter of your actions, — that there is a heaven to reward, and a hell to punish them, as they are good or bad. You say you believe all this; but still it does not produce a Christian life. Away with such hypocritical pretences. Would any man leap from a precipice if he really believed a bottomle.ss pit would receive him? Those who pretend to no faith, and tliose who pretend to faith, but leave a holy life out of the question, are both infldels alike." Some of those ungodly pretenders to Christianity are so veiy ignorant of its doctrines as to think that because Christ died for sinners 5 (which is the only part of the gospel they ever attended to,) think that God will, however wicked tlieir lives may ha\e been, pardon them, provided they do but repent, as they call it, on tlieir deatli-beds. Old Baxter tells us of a shocking wicked man who persisted in a very profligate way of life, because he was sure that if he could but say three words, *' God pardon me,'* before he died, he was sure to be forgiven. It seems he even forgot those three words, for his horse leap- ing over a bridge with him, he said, '^ Devil take all.** I have conversed with many who have much the same notion ; they do not know that repentance is a change of heart and life, but tliink it consists in a few expressions of sorrow, and calling God to par- don lackington's confessions. 87 don them for Christ's sake. Gilpin, in his excellent sermon on Christ's promise to the thief on the cross, says, *' I have seldom seen sickness draw on a change of life. The sinner has generally returned, after his recovery, to his old habits. All therefore that a minister of the gospel can say is only this, that God has nowhere promised in the covenant of grace, Jbrgive?iess to any repeiitance, hut what is followed iy a holy life ; and fmen are saved^ after a course (f wickedness y on death-ted reTpentixnc^j they are not saved according to any known conditions of the gas- pet. Gilpin's sermons, vol. ii. page 122. 2d edition. • Fatally he errs Whose hope fore-runs repentance, and who presumes That God will pardon when he's tir'd of sin, And like a stale companion casts it off. Oh ! arrogant, delusive, impious thought, To meditate commodious truce with heaven, When death's swift arrow smites him unprepar'd. And that protracted moment never comes, Or comes too late : Turn then, presumptuous man. Turn to the sinner, Who died reviling, there behold thy doom. Cumberland's calvary. I have also met with many who keep a shorter account with God ; they mistake the means for tJie end. When they can find time to go to church, it is not with any view to obtain grace and strength to enable them to forsake tlieir bad practices j they have not the least inclination to alter their wicked course of life 3 but think that by going to church and begging pardon, their old score is wiped off: if to going to church they add the readmg a chapter or two in the bible, on Sunday, they rest quite satis- lied, and suppose their accounts fully balanced. To reckon any of these people among the be- lievers of the gospel of Christ is an abuse of words. But it is time to conclude this long epistle. I am. Dear Friend^ Your's. LETTER SS I.ACKINGTOX'S CONffcfc-.i( LETTER XV. Ab-^urd presumption ! Thou who never knewst A serio.is thout^ht ! slialt thou dream of joy ? No mai c cr found a happy life by chance j Or y?wn'd into being with a wish ; Or w: h the snout of o^rov'ling appetite, E'er Hinch it cut, :uid grubb'd from the dirt. An avt it is, and must be learnt, and learnt ^ With unremiriing effort, or be lost; And leave us blockheads in our bliss. Wealth may seek us ; but wisdom must be sought, Sought before all ; but (how unlike all else We seek on earth !) 'tis never sought in vain. BR. YOU NO. O death, how insupp^rtable*s thy pain 1 — my soul still labours Beneath uncertainty and anxious doubt, The mind's worse state. how's tameri.anf,. J.^EAR FRIEND, I WILL take up again the conversa- tion between me and my friend. But, Dick, you have not yet answered my qucf5- tion. '* You asked, if I was not in lieart a Chris- tian? I will answer you sincerely. 1 think that L am more a Christian in heart than in head. HI do not deceive myself I endeavour to practice the morjd duties enjoined by Christ, from a real conviction that they are essential to my present, as well as to niy future happiness ; and a spirit of devotion is now become habitual to me. The following lines I have- a thousand times repeated, I tliink with real since- rity: •* If I ani right thy grace impart, *< Still in the right to stay, '* If I am wrong, O teach my heart " To find the better way." " After alU I confess that I have at times some doubts, which obtrude themselves upon my mind, concerning some points. Young says. LACKINGTON'S CONVESSIONS. 8() 11 wrong thy heart, thy head is right in vain. "And many will say-, if wrong thy head, thy heart js right in vain 5 but 1 hope that it is not the case with me, as I believe most of those points that ,are thought to be most important." I repeated tiie following lines from the Niglit Thoughts : Life immortal strikes CoiVv'icrion, in a flood of light divine; A Christian dwells like Uriel in the san, Meridian evidence puts doubt to Hight j And aident hope anticipates the skies. Read and revere the sacred page; a p?ige Where triumphs immortality ; a page Which the whole world could not prod Jce, A\ hich not the conflagration can dci^troy ; In nature's ruins not one letter lost; Tis printed in the mkid of God for ever. Admit a God — that Mystery Supreme Tiiat cause uncaus'd, all other wonders cea^e ; Nothing is marvellous for Him to dn ; Deny Him — All is mystery besides ; "Millions of mysteries ! each darker far 'J iiun that thy wisdom would unwisely shun. If weak thy faith, why chusc the harder side; We nothing know but what is marvellous : Yet what is marvellous we can't believe. , So weak our reason, and so great our God, What most surprises is the sacred pa>:€. Or full as strange, or stranger must be true. Faith is rv.ot reason's labour but repose. As sooji as I had done spouting Dick said, that >()me years since he was by some infidel authors led to disbelieve the immortality of the soul 3 but that he could scarcely tiiink it possible for one to conti- nue long in the disbelief of that heart-cheering doc- trine, if he would read Young's Night Thoughts \v^ith attention. There are excellent passages on that very important subject scattered throughout the wlioleworkj but the sixtli, seventh, and eighth Nights 90 lackington's confessions. Nights contain the substance of what has been ad- ^•anced both by philosophers and divines on that head^ and in general his reasoning is strong and acute 5 and the poetry is so beautiful, so animating, and so devout, that I can scarce read it a quarter of an hour, without feeling such delightful sensations as though my soul had already escaped from this be- nighted, doubting state of things, and had entered on a blissful immortality. I have repeated the follow- ing lines with the author's feelings : Believe, and shew the reason of a man ; Believe, and taste the pleasure of a god : Believe, and look with triumph on the tomb. Abhorred annihilation! blasts the soul, And wide extends the bounds of human woe. Dick continued. It was you who first recommended that book to me, for which I am greatly your deb- tor ; it has afforded me gieat pleasure, and 1 tliink I may add much proiit, so that I can forgive the few faults which are observable in it as scarce worth noticing, amid such infinite varieties of beauties which are to be found in every page. At times, when tempted to doubt of tlie existence of the Di- vine Being, I have been forced to join in the pious Doctor's interrogation : Has the e;reat Sovereign sent ten thousand worlds To tell us he resides above them all, In Glory's unapproachable recess ! And dare Earth's bold inhabitants deny The sumptuous, the magnific embassy A m,Dment*s audience ! Who sees but is confounded, or convinc'ci ? Renounces Reason, or a God adores. If any of the vices of the age appear more than ordinary tempting, I take up the Night Thoughts ; and words cannot describe how ridiculous, or mean, those vices appear to me. There's LACKINGTON S CONFESSIONS. gi There's not a day but to the man of thought. Betrays some secret ; that throws new reproach On Ufe, and makes him sick of seeing more. The scenes of business tell us what are men ; The scenes of pleasure what are all beside. The world's all Title-page, there's no contents ; The world's all Face ; the man who shews his heart. Is hooted for his nudities, and scorn'd. NIGHT THOUGHTS. I am seldom lowspirited, or in the vapours j but if at any time my mind is depressed, I find tliis divine bard operates upon me like the music of David on the soul, the evil spirits are charmed away 5 itsays. To chase thy gloom, — Go fix some weighty truth ; Chain down some passion ; do some generous good j Correct thy friend ; befriend thy greatest foe ; Or with warm heart, and confidence divine, Spring up, and lay hold on him who made thee. Thy gloom is scattered, spritely spirits flow ; Tho' wither*d is thy vine, and harp unstrung. Does tlie fear of death, and too great attachment of life make me uneasy, I take up this companion of mine, and • Each sublunary wish I/:ts go its eager grasp, and drops the world, The knell, the shroud, the mattock, and the grave j The deep damp vault, the darkness and the worm j These are the bugbears of a winter's eve, Imagination's fool, and Error's wretch. Man makes a death, which nature never made f Then on the point of his own fancy falls ; And feels a thousand deaths in fearing one. NIGUT THOUGHTS. Respecting the Night Thoughts, I was quite of my friends opinion, far were I to be restricted to the Bible, and one volume of that size, it should bo Young's Night Thoughts, if I had liberty to choose, amongst all the books in the world, as I know not of any four or six volumes of that size, that contain so 92 LACKINGTON'b CONFESSIONS. jio much instruction, or would afford to me so much real pleasure. And however strange it may appear, I assure )'ou, that I sometimes read those divine poems wJien 1 was extremely sceptical, and found pleasure in reading them ; and even at times felt much of the pious spirit that dictated (.hem. In these mo- ments I have thought that devotion to a Supreme Being was natural to man, as during the period when I even questioned the existence of God, as it were by an involuntary impulse, I often lifted up my heart to him, *' Whose Temple is all Spacf, Whose Altar, Earth, Sea, Sky I" Since I had the above conversation with my friend, I read a passage quoted from the works of a freethinking lady, vv^hich shews that she was at times in the same state of mind, 1 have no doubt but that many unhappy unbelievers have often felt the same struggles between truth and error, belief and unbelief 5 tlie passage is as follows : '^ When tiie powerful hand of time imprints on '^ us the wrinkles of age, blunts the senses, ab- '^ sorbs the vigour of the mind and body, what '' would be able to charm and dispel the grief of *^ filling into decay ? Remembrance and hope; '^ the testimonies of a soul without reproach, the *' hopes of a future state, are helpful aids to soften '' the declivity by which we descend to the grave ; '^ tliey embellish the road by the attractions of die *' prospect, and make us resign ourselves to the **^ arms of death as quietly as to those of sleep. '^ Amiable hope, why should I refuse to enjoy *' thee ! In the phlegm of argimient, I doubt al- *Mnost of every thing, I absolutely reject several, '^ but as soon as feeling warms my imagination and " dilates my heart, I wish for a God, for a souU '^ for immortality. The desire that I have that they *■' may lackington's confe*sions. 93 * ' may be, persuades me they are 3 I feel the force '^^ of the objections that may be made to tlie con- '' trary, and I would willingly compare it to tliat ^^ gleam of a bright flash of lightning which shews */ the horizon for a moment, only to replunge it all ^' at once into tlie most profound darkness. '^ The habit of speculations, and the indifference '^ they inspire, very frequently throw the mind '^ again into the soul of doubt -, but the habit of the ^' prejudices of "intimacy has still more power -, the '' obligation of preserving to outward appearance *' inces1|ntly returns, and renews the deep impres- '' sions which they formerly made. I feel myself '' hurried away towards the general declivity 3 it is " easy to give credit to that which flattens. '' The idea of an excellent Being completes my ^^ happiness, I love to diink that a beneficent Pro- '* vidence superintends the order of the great ma- '' chine j I hope to have him for my perpetual wit- '^ ness ; I love to believe tliat he interests himself ^' about human nature, and wills all the good that I ^' desire. Firm in my conduct, uncertainty often '' agitates my mind ; then, without bearing uj) "■ against it, tranquilized by my intentions, I follow '' it till something fixes me. It is the flexible reed, *' which yielding to the effects of the \\ inds dreadii " not their impetuous blasts." Daniel in his Arcadia says. ■ I see how doubt Comes in far easier than it can get out. I think, my friend, you will join in the follow- ing poetical prayer , I thinjc it is from the Latin of Boetius. O thou whose pow'r o'er moving worlds presides, Whose voice created, and whose wisdom guides. On darkling man, in pure effulgence shine, An^i clear the clouded mind with light divine, *Tis thine alone to calm t);ie pious breast WitJi silent confidence and holy rest ; From 94 lackington's confessions. From thee, Great God, we spring, to thee we tend, Path, Motive, Guide, Original and End. The famous Athenian tragic poet had, more than two thousand years since, the same impression ok his mind. O thou that sits supreme above, Whatever name thou deign'st to bear, Unblam'd may I pronounce thee Jove ! Immur'd in deep and holy thought. If rightly I conjecture aught Thy pow'r I most revere ; Else vainly tost, the anxious mind. Nor truth nor calm repose can find.^ I will copclude this with a few lines from Horace, tliey are expressive of my late state 3 also of my present determination. A fugitive from heaven and pray'r, I mock*d at all religious fear, Deep scienc'd in the mazy lore Of mad philosophy ; but now Hoist sail, and back my voyage plow To that bkst harbour, which 1 left before. FRANCIS. I am. Dear Friend, Your's. LETTER LACKINGTON S CONFESSIONS, QS LETTER XVI. Men drop so fast, ere life's mid stage we tread, Few know so many friends alive as dead. How oft the moon, how oft the midnight bell, That iron tongue of death ! with solemn knell. On folly's errands, as we vainly roam. Knocks at our hearts and finds our thoughts from home. LOVE OF FAME. Deep in the secret he looks thro* the whole. And pities the dull rogue that saves his soul ; To talk with revVence you must take good heed, Nor shock his tender reason with the creed j Ilowe'er well bred in public he complies, Obliging friends alone with blasphemies. Who makes so merry with his creed He almost thinks he disbelieves indeed ; But only thinks so, to give both their due, Satan and he believe and tremble too. LOVE OF PAME. The Love of life too flies among the rest. The last that lingers in the human breast. lewis's statius, DEAR FRIEND, DURING my visit to my old friend Dick Thrifty, I observed him one morning much affected. He had been reading a letter which he put into my hands repeating these lines. — " Friends our chief treasure I how they drop ! ————— " Philander gone ! ** How the world falls to pieces round us ! ** And leaves us in a ruin of our joy !" Dick had received this letter two years before, but he could never look over it without being affec- ted. It informed him of tlie death of our old friend Jack Jolly, and Dick wanted me to look at a certain part of it. We had both a very great regard for him. '' How g(j lackington's confessions. ** I low often we talk'd down the summer's sun, " And cool'd our passions by the breezy stream ; ** How often thaw'd and shorten'd winter's cvc» " By conflict kind, and struck out latent truth." Dick and I put our kno\^ledge of him together^ and I will give you the sum of what we know con- cerning him. Jack Jolly was the son of a poor countryman in the North of Engk^nd, who had con- trived to have all his six or eight sons taught to • read, write, and cast accounts. Jack and several of his brothers came to London when boys. He v/as bound an apprentice to a trade j during his appren- ticeship he acquired a taste for reading. At tirst he purchased penny pamphlets at ballad stalls : these productions he read with great attention. As soon as his little leather-purse ^^'ould admit of it, he bought sixpenny e^^tracts from old romances, such i s the history of Jane Shore, and Fair Rosamond, the Seven Champions, the Destruction of Troy, The delightful History of Montillion, DoneEallance of Greece, and others of the same ckiss. For seve- ral years his leisure hours were dedicated to this kind of reading. One day as Jack was examining the contents of a stall, Jie met with a play, which he purchased for a few halfpence. This play highly delighted him, and for sometime most of the contents ot his small purse was laid out in plays ; those plays he read at all opportunities for a year or two'. After this hff acquired a taste for our old English poets 5 Chau- cer, Spencer, Sec. he eagerly devoured. Some of our best modern poets were soon added to his s To visit earth, one shrine the goddess finds And one alone, to make her sweet amendi For absent heaven — the bosom of a friend $ "Where heart meets heart, reciojorallv soft. Edcn oincrs pillow to repose divmc. NIGHT THOUGHTS. On this pleasing subject I know you will bo glai to see the following lines of a pious poet. True Friendship has in short a grac« ^ More than terrestrial in its face, That proves it heaven-descended. Man's love of woman not so pure. Nor when sincere, so secure. To last till life is ended. As similarity of mind. Or something not to be defin'd. First rivets our attention ; So manners decent and polite. The same we practis'd at first sight. Must save it from declension. cowpxr. Jack appeared not to have the least deshe to grow rich, a miserly disposition was his aversion. He did not even sufficiently provide for his wife and children before he retired from business, two tliou- F 3 ?and 102 ' JLA.CK1N0T©N'S CONFESSrbN?. »and pounds being the utmost that he had realized when, about eight years since, he left London and settled in a country town, where he was rather straitened in his circumstances, owing to fresh taxes, and the great rise of the necessaries of hfe -, but he had such high notions of independency, that he would not accept of any asssistance from his friends, even though offered in the most delicate manner. After having informed you in a former letter/ that Jack Jolly did not believe in a Supreme Being j or rather that, at times, he endeavoured to disprove the existence of a first cause, asserting that there was but one eternal substance, namely matter 5 you will easily* suppose that he did not believe in th» doctrine of the innmateriality and immortality of tlie soul. Whenever he spoke on those heads it was only among his particular friends, who, by the bye, were for some little time nearly of his opinion, and then '»^^ ^'' <^iii*^iiit;nis lenaeu lo uispiuvc iliaLciym- fortable and animating doctrine ; nor would he ad- mit tliat tlie tlioughts of annihilation were shocking to human nature. He thought our favourite podt raved when he penned the following lines. Abhorr'd annihilation ! blasts the soul, And wide extends the bounds of human woe I Fall, how profound 1 like Lucifer's ! — From whence fond hope built her pavilion high. The gods among ; hurlM headlong, hurl'd at once To night ! to nothing ! darker still than night. The ensuing verses pleased him much. ■ " Death, a quick relief, ** To all thy vain imaginary grief ! ** For thou shalt sleep and never wake again ; <* And quitting life, shalt quit thy living pain ; " The worst that can befal thee measur'd righ$, << Is a sound sleep and a long good night. Jack would, at time?^ argue in favour of suicide, aiid say. LACK1NGT0N*S CaNFESSIONS. 103 • " The wretch •• That's weary of the world and tir*d of life ■ " May give each inquietude the slip, •* By stealing out of being when he pleased, *• And by what way, whether by hemp or steel ; ** Death's thousand doors stand open. Who should force ** The ill-pleas'd guest to sit out his full time, ** Or blame him if he goes ! Sure he does well ** That helps himself as timely as he can." I think Virgil is made to say in English, The gates of hell are open night and day, Smooth the descent, and easy is the way. Notwithstanding his attempts to disprove the be- ing of a God, the immortality of tlie soul, a future state, &:c. and his endeavours to justify suicide ; yet poor Jack chose to bear a miserable existence for many years, rather than ** Take the wiAs leap to that dark, dreadful shore, " Whence fiont come back to tell us what they find." Although he bore patiently various long, lingering, and, at times, painful disorders j yet as he did not put in practice what he attempted to justify, but rather chose to live in great misery, I cannot help thinking that he doubted the truth of his own prin- ciples before I left London, after which I never saw him. In tlie letters which I afterwards received from him, he was silent as to his sentiments 5 but his living so long in misery shewed. • " His soul convulsed. ** Trembled in anxious doubt, and shuddering stood, ** Afraid to leap into the op'n-ng gulf " Of future state ; 'till the banks of clay ** Fell from beneath his feet ; in vain he grasp'd ** The shattered r^cds, that chea;t hts easy wish." ' I am. Dear Friend, Your's. F 4 LETTER 104 LACKTNOTOKS COKf ES-SI0X^5. LETTER XVIL To he or not to he^ that is the question. SHAKESPEABF. Nature's first wish is endless h&ppiness. Annihilation is an after thought. — > What depth of horror lies enclos'd ! DR. YOUN«. To be, is better than not to be, Else nature cheated us in our formation. And we are, the sweet delusion wears Such various charms and prospects of delight. That what we cou'd not will, we make our choice, Desirous to prolong the life she gave. Madmen and fools may hurry o'er the scene, The wise man walks an easy sober pace. And tho' he sees one precipice for all, Declines the fatal brink of Ipoking back On what he leaves, and thinks on where he falls. SEWELL*S SIR W. RALEIGH. '* Consider man as mortnl, all is dark, ** And wretched ; Reason weeps at the survey." DEAK FRIEND^ WHILE Dick and I were conversing after dinner on the important subjects mentioned in the last chapter, we were astonished at the declara- tion of a lady in company, who seriously and deli- berately assured us, that she had often wished her soul was mortal, that it might die with the body ; that the idea of annihilation was so far from being frightful to her, that it would afford her very great satisfaction, if she could but be sure that when she had paid the debt of nature, she should no longer have any kind of conscious existence, as she tliought it was now ■ ** A serious thing to die ! My soul ! *' What a strange moment must it be, when near '* Thy journey's end thou hast the gulf in view i •• That lackington's confessions. 10* <* That awful gulf no mortal e'er repass'd « To tell what's doing on the other side ! But if she was but sure of being annihilated, " If death was nothing, and navight after death ; *< If, when men died, at once they ceas'd to be, " Returning to the barren womb of nothing " Whence they sprung :*' It would take a weight off her spirits tliat som^- times oppressed her much. With pro<;pects of futurity distracted. Long since have 1 consum'd my days in grief. OR£STE«.. By this' time I suppose you conclude, that we had in company one of those ladies who are flying from London to Bath, from Bath to Tunbridge, from tlience to Buxton, &c. in a fruitless pursuit of hap-' piness, or rather to avoid reflection -, or you think that she has passed her iCoom at the gambling table, midnight masquerades, &c. or that she is que ot' tliose described by Pope r Now deep in Taylor, and the Book of Martyrs, Now drinking Citron with his Grace and Chartres ; Now conscience chills her, and now passion burns, And Atheism and Religion take their turns ; A very heathen in her carnal part. Yet still a sad good Christian at her heart. No, my friend, she is a very different charactoi*. Why then, you will say, " She must be a poor moping creature, who will not take God's word and promise of forgiveness to truly repenting sinners, until she can feel rapturous sensations of his lov^ and mercy. Or^ perhaps, she is one who is afraid tliat the gracious and merciful God of loye has, from all eternity decreed her damnation, the thought* of which have drove her into a state of dtspera- tion.*' • F 5 y^u iOtS jlackisgton's concessions. You are still mistaken. I am well informed, thaf the Lidy is very amiable. She h about forty. During thirty years which she lived witli her fatlier, she was a very dutiftit daughter -, the ten that she has been a wife, she ever has been, and still is, ** Blest with temper, whose unclouded ray ** Can make to-morrow, cheerful as to-day ; " She never answers 'till her husband cools, •* And if she rules him, never shews she rulef. ^ Charms by accepting, by submitting sways, ** Yet ha» her humour most when she obeys." Her life has been a life of innocence 5 the continued ill treatment which she for years received from »ome of her rehtions, could never put her out of temper, or cause her to utter an ill Matured word -, or to be guilty of an unkind action. She possesses an umcommonly sympatliizing, feeling heart, is very kind and charitable to the poor. Denhauv aays. The sweetest cordial we receive at last Is conscience of our virtuous actions past. Tliai so charming and virtuous, a lady as this should wish that existence might terminate with tiiis short life, is, I believe, not a common circumstance. On our expressing our surprise,, and requesting to be made acquainted with her reasons for so unna- tural a wish, she said, that " she was not satisfied with herself, she thought her disposition was not JO piously disposed as she found the Almighty re- quired 3 she had no desire to go to church, and when she was there she was not as devout as she »houkl be. She seldom prayed much in private. She did not know that she had ever done or said any thing wrong. But then she was igaorant of divine things, and felt an indifference towards them ; and hsying doubts on her mind, rather than run the hazard ©f being eteraally paiserable^. she had many iackington's confessions. 107 many times wished to be annihilated.'* She said, these melancholy thoughts were not lasting, she was in general happy. Mrs. Rowe thus describes a state of mind nearly similar. Starts at the awful prospect of the deep, Still fears to explore the dark and unknown way. Still backward shrinks and meditates delay; Spins out the time, and lingers in debate, Displeas'd to try an unexperienc'd state. ff the righteous are scarcely saved, where shall the sinner and the ungodly appear ? And if so virtuous a woman as this has very uneasy thoughts, as to her acceptance with God, what must, or rather, what ought the generality of our fashionable ladies to feel ? Dick took up his favourite book the Night Thoughts, and read to her the following lines : G thou great Arbiter of life and death ! Nature's immortal immaterial sun I Whose all prolific beam late call'd me forth From darkness, teeming darkness, where I lay The worm's inferior, and, in Rank, beneath The dust I tread on, high to bear my Brow^ To drink the spirit of the golden Day, And triumph in existence ; and couidst know No Motive, but my Bliss ! and hast ordain'd A rise in blessing I with the PatriarcKs joy. Thy call, I follow to the X'a^n^unknown ; I trust in thee, and know in whom I trust ; Or life, or death, is equal ; neither weighs : All weighs in this — O let me live to thee. *^ This Madam (contmued Dick), is the only dispo- sition that can possibly make us happy : the good Doctor appears to have had that faith and trust in God, which every real Christian should have. In another place he says. If, sick of folly I relent ; Christ writes My name in heav'n, with that inverted spear (A spear deep dipt in hiood !) which pU;rc'd his side, ». Rather inflames thy torment, Never more in Hell than whta in Hcav*n. PARADISE RIOAIn'd. The mind is its own place, and in itself Can make a Hell of Heaven. PARADISE LOST. Or pain or pleasure, all that lies beyond In the unknown abyss is dark as death. Cumberland's cai^vary.. Abash'd, asham'd, I cry, Eternal Pow'r ! I yield j I wait resigned th' appointed hour. BROOME. • EAR FBIEND, IN October, I7gs^ S. P. Peach, Esq. being Major of the Tockington Volunteers, gave au entertainment to his corps, and others of his neigh- bours, in lionour of Lord Nelson's glorious victory. This was done on the lawn before his house. The good cheer, tlie company, music, songs, bonfire, fire- works, SlC. had a wonderful etl'ect on the poor countrymen f one of them, in raptures, exclaimed, (by my side>) *^ This is heaven upon earth!" Upon which another of our volunteers very sincerely and earnestly declared, that " he did not think that hea- ven was half so fine a place." This had not the least appearance of levity > but w^as an honest effu- sion of the heart. I will give you anotlier anecdote of a similar kind. A neighbouring clergyman was sent for to pray with a farmer's wife, on the Marsh-Common, about five miles from my house. He, in order to reconcile her to her dying situation, and to send her quietly away, held forth on the happiness which all good people enjoy after deatli at the right hand of God> LACKIXGTON's CONFESSrONS. lllr God ; during which she shewed signs of impatience. The divine still kept on, and enlarged on the glory, splendor, &:c. of heaven, until her patience be- ing quite tired out, she exclaimed, ** Don't tell me a long tale about the glory of Heaven ; Old England^, and the Marsh-Common for me." ** Poor man here buries all his thout^hts, ** Inteis celestial hopes without a sigh V Were it only a few poor ploughmen, and a Marsh- Common farmer's wife, that had such low thought!* of the happiness of a future kate, one should not be sio much surprised -, but is there not reason to think tliat tliere are thousands who have no better opinion of lieavenly pleasure than these poor untaugjit crea- tures that have acc^uired but few ideas above the hogs they feed, or the beasts tliey drive. The Lady^ that was introduced to you in my last letter freely confessed herself to be of that number. She in- formed us, that except now and then, when tliii thought of death, and the — — " Anxious casting up of what might be, " Alarm'd hei peaceful bosom," and made her gloomy, she had always been happy through life 5 that she would rather live here for ever than go to heaven ; that she had not conceived very favourable ideas of the happiness there to be enjoyed; and as she had no knowledge of, orjre* lish for divine things, she did not see how she Gould comfortably spend an eternity in a place where nothing else was going forward. I fear this lady has, in giving us her own though ts^, given us the thoughts of thousands ; and 1 think she rea.soned well. There cannot be the-least doubt that the rea- son why many wish to go to heaven, is not from any. love tliey have for God or heaven ; but as they know that there are but two places, they wish to go there to avoid hell. How many are thwe that think the sabbath 112 lackington's confessions. Kabbatli a veiy tiresome day, because they have no relish for religious duties j nay, bow many of those Mdio go to church not only do not find any pleasure tliete, but are glad when the service is over ? What enjoyment then can such expect in heaven ? I well remember *that both I and my companions formerly used to laugh at the thoughts of going to heaven j and were so profane as to say that we should not like for ever to sit on a cloud and sing allelujah j and I fear we spoke the real sentiments of many more. Before any que can properly wish for hea-. ven, or enjoy it hereafter, he must repent, and pray until Goci gives him a clean heart, and renews a right spirit tcithin him. Old things viust he done aivay, all things must become new. And then he will be meet to he a partaker of the inheritance with the saints in light. Were it possible for a vicious man to get to hea- ven witli his vicious inclinations and dispositions about him, would be not have the sentimenU ascribed to Satan in Milton's Paradise Lost ? • With what eyes could wc Stand in his presence humble, and receive Strict laws impos'd, to celebrate his throne ; With warbled hymns, and to his Godhead sing Forc'd hallelujahs ? This must be our task In Heaven, this our delight; how wearisome Eternity so spent in worship paid To whom we hate ! But to return. When the lady had expressed her mean ideas of the joys of heaven> Dick began to. spout away. Thy nature immortality ! who knows ! And yet who knows it not ? It is but life In stronger thread and brighter colours spun, ^nd spun lor ever. " • How §Tfrt< To mingle ijiCrests, converse, amities, With all the sons of reason scattered wide Thro' habitable space, wherever born. Howe'ti IACKINGTON's CONFESSION'S. I'3 Howe'er endow'd ! To live free citizens Of universal nature ; to lay hold By more than fcchlc faith on the Supreme : To call heav'n's unfathomable mines Our own ! To rise in science as in bliss. Initiate in the secrets of the skies ! . To read creation ; in its mighty plan ; In the bare bosom of the* Deity I To see before each glance of piercing thought. All cloud, all shadows, blown remote ; and have No mystery — but that of love divine — From darkness, and from dust, to such a scene ! Love's element ; true joy's illustrious home ! From earth's sad contrast (now deplor'd) more fair! What exquisite vicissitude of fate ! Blest absolution of our Wackest hour! These are thoughts that make man, man. The wise illumine ; aggrandise the great. DR. YOUNG. How, Madam, do you like such a heaven as this ? *' O the description is delightful, charming, I could have no objection to such a heaven to-morrow;" and she acknowledged that she saw noticing roman- tic in the poet's glowing description. She believed that had she given the subject a proper considera*- tion, she must have had m.ore favourable idc'asof the happiness promised to those tliat fear God and keep his commandments. I repeated the following lines of Horace : Dost hear ? or sporting in my brain What wildly-sweet delirium reign ! Lo ! 'mid Elysium's balmy groves. Each happy shade transported roves ! I see the living scene display'd, Where rills and breath-gales sigh murmuring through the shades, ■ francis. She liked the Christian's heaven best, and, smil- ing, said, that as we seemed to be acquainted with tlie country, she should be glad if we would give lier some further account of it. We quoted the following passages. What 134 lackington's confessions. What a poor value do men set en heaven ? Heav'n the perf-^ction of all that can Be said, or thoujjht, of riches, delight, or harmony. Health, beauty; and al' those nor subject to 'i'he waste of time ; but in their height eternal. SUJRLEY's ST. PATRICK- O azure vaults ! O crystal slv> ! The woild's transparent canopy ! Where joy in full perfection flows, Ko interruption, no cesj^ation knows. Out in a mighty circle round for ever goes. ROSCONfMON^ - There is a heaven : This shred of life cannot be all the web Nature hath wrought to govern divine spirits,* There is a heaven, because there i$ misery. The divine power, ever biest and good. Made not the world for an ill natnrcd jest. To sport himself in pains of those he made. CHOWn's RKGULUft. When ev*ry sinking star shall feel decay, And earth, and sea, and skies, shall pass away ; To pay the pangs of parting, fate ordains A blissful meeting on the heav'nly plains ; To join in friendship, and unite in joy. Which absence cannot part, nor death destroy. MRS. Rowm. Heaven is a great way off, and I shall be Ten thousand years in travel ; 'twere happy If I may find a lodging there at last, Though my poor soul get thither upon cratches. SH1RLEY*S I>liKE*S IVl. Look up my soul, pant toward th' eternal hills : Those heav'ns are fairer than they seem ; There pleasures all sincere glide on crystal rills ; There not a drag of guilt defiles, Nor grief disturbs the stream ! That Canaan knows no noxious thing. No curs'd soil, no tainted spring, Nor roses grow on thorns, nor honey wears a sting. DR. WATTS'S LYRIC POEMS. To be good is to be happy : Angels At^ liappisr than men, because they arc better. Guilt lackikgton's confessions. 115 Cuilt is the source of sorrow ; 'tis the fiend, Th' avenging fiend, that follows us behind With whips and stings. The bless'd know nOne of this. But rest in everlasting peace of mind. And find the height of all their hcav*ft in goodness. row's fair PENITEN'f. This life's a Dream, an empty show ; But the brfght world to which we go. Has joys substantial and sincere ; When shall I wake and find me there* glorious hour ! O blest abode ! 1 shall be near and like my God ! And flesh and sin no more controul The sacred pleasures of the soul. DR. WATTS'S rSAL?lS. Above die subtile foldings of the sky. Above the well-set orbs soft harmony. Above those petty lamps that gild the night, There is a place o'erflown with hallow'd light} Where heav'n a^ if if left iK^-lf behind, or stretch- d out far, not its own bounds confin'd ; Here peaceful flames swell up the sacred place ; Nor can the glory contain itself within the endless ^aCC. For there no twilight of the sun's dull ray Glimmers upon the pure and native day : No pale-fac'd moon does in stolen beams appear ; Or with dim taper scatter darkness there : On no smooth sphere the restless seasons slide, Nor circling motion does swift time divide ; Nothing is there to come, and nothing past, But an eternal now docs ever last. cowlf.y. — The soul, stript of mortal clay. Grows all divinely fair ; And boundless roves the milky way. And views the prospects there. R. SA^VAOt. I knew a man, (whether in the body, or out of the body, I cannot tell, God knoweth;) how that he was caught up into paradise, and heard unspeakable words, which is not lawful, (or possible) for man to utter. st. pavl, ^The soul that leaves this mortal land, Fearless when the Great Master gives command. Death is the storm : she smiles to hear it roar. And bids the tempest waft him from the shore : Then Il6 iackikgton's confessions. Then with a skilful helm she sweeps the seas. And manages the raging storm with ease ; (Her face can govern death J she spreads her wings ^ Wide to the wind, and as she sails ^he sings, I And loses by degrees the sigh: of mortal things. -' As the shores lessen so her joys arise. The waves roll gentler, and the tempest dies, Now vast eternity fills all her sight, ^ She floats on the broad deep with infinite delight, > The seas for ever calm, the skies for ever bright. -^ DR. WATTS*S LYRIC POEMS. If there*s a Power above us, He must delight in virtue, and that Which he delights in must be happy. Addison's cayo. ■ What is death, that I should fear it ? To die ! why 'tis to triumph ; 'tis to join The great assembly of the good and just ; Immortal worthies, heroes, prophets, saints I Oh, 'tis to join the band of holy men Made perfect by their sufferings i ' i is to meet My great progenitors ; they, \vith whom^flie Lord Design'd to hold familiar converse ! 'Tis to sec Bless'd Noah and his children, once a world ! *Tis to behold. Oh, rapture to conceive ! Those we have known, and lov'd, and lost below ! To join the blest hosannas to their King ! Whose face to see, whose glory to behold. Alone were heav'n, tho* saint or seraph none Should meet our sight, and only God were there ! This is to die ! who would not die for this ? Who would not die that we may live for ever ? MRS. H. MORE. I give you, . said Dick, another old heathen*« description of the heaven he exi)ected to go to -, you wjll find it in Cicero, on Old Age, as translated. I wish all that are called Christians had so much faith, and such sensible notions of heaven, as this poor heathen had, before light and immortality were brought to light by the gospel. The foolish and short-sighted die with fear. That they go nowhere, or they know not where. ^ The lackington's confessions. , 117 The wise and virtuous soul, with clearer eyes. Before she parts some happy port descries. My friends your fathers I shall surely see ; Nor only those I lov'd, or who lov'd me ; But such as before ours did end, their days ; Of whom we hear, and read, and write their prjiisc. This I beHeve ; for were 1 on my way, None should persuade me to return or stay ; •Should some god tell me, that I should be bor«^ And cry again, his offer 1 would scorn ; Asham'd when I had ended well my race, To be led back to the first starting place. And since with me more jriev'd than joy'd. We should be either satisfy 'd or cloy'd. Happy when I, from this turmoil set free, That peaceful and divine assembly sec : Not only those I nam'd I there shall greet. But my own gallant, virtuous Cato meet. Nor did 1 weep, when I to ashes turn'd His belov'd body, who should mine have bura'd. I, in my thoughts, beheld his soul ascend : Where his first hopes our interview attend. Then cease to wonder that 1 feel no grief From age, v/hich is of my delights the chief. My hopes, if this assurance hath deceiv'd, (That I man's soul immortal hath believ'd,) And if I err, no power shall dispossess My thoughts of that expected happiness. DENilAM. Where am I now ? Angels and God is here ; An unexhausted ocean of delight Swallows my senses quite, And drowns all what^ or how, or where. Not Paul, who first did thither pass. And this great world's Columbus was. The tyrannus pleasure could express. Oh, 'tis too much for man ! but let it ne'er be less. cow LEY. A glorious world, — What a world, an Edeuy heighten'd all ! Jt is another scene ! another self! And still another, as time rolls along ; And that a se//'far more illustrious still, •'eyond loB^ ages, yet roli'd up in shades. Unj)i«rc'4 MS lackxng-ton's confessions. Unpierc'd by bold conjecture's keenest ray i What evolutions of surprising fate ! How nature opens and revives niy soul In boundless walks of raptur'd thought, where gods Encounter and embrace me! What new births Of strange adventure, foreign to the sun. Where what now charms, perhaps whate'er exists, Old Time, and fair creation are no more ! NIGHT THOWGilT^, .1 Far distant he descries Ascending by degrees magnificent, Up to th^ walls of htav'n, a structure high ; At top whereof, but far more rich appear'd llic work as of a kingly palace gate, With frontispiece of diamond and gold Embellish'd; thick with sparkling orient gems '1 he portal shone, inimitable on earth By model, or by shading pencil drawn ; The stars were such, as whereon Jacob saw Angels ascending .ind descending, bands Of guardians bright, when he from Esau fled To Padan-Aran in the field of Luz, Dreaming by night under the open sky, And waking cry'd. This is the gate of heav'n. The multitude of angels, with a shout (Loud, a^ from numbers without numbers ; sweet. As from blest voicesj utt'ring joy, heaven rung With jubilee, and loud hosannas fill'd Til* eternal regions. Lowly reverent , Tow*rds either throne they bow, and to the ground. With solemn adoration, down they cast Their crowns, inwove with amarant and gold — Now in loose garlands thick thrown off; tlie bright Pavement, that like a sea of jasper shone, Impurpled celestial roses smil'd. Then crownM again, their golden harps they to<^ ; Harps ever tun'd, that glittering by their side Like quivers hung, and with preamble sweet Of charming symphony, they introduce Their sacred song, and waken raptures high, No voice exempt ; no voice but well could join Melodious part, such concord is in heav*n, MILTOK. Exulting here the final huge glv'n. Enter thou faithful servant to my heav*n. Glory, which here through faith may well believe. lackington's confessions. J 19 No speech can utter, and no thought conceive ; When weary time his utmost race has run^ ^ Glory through endless ages but begun, L Beyond the glimm'ring spark of our meridian sun, ^ PARISH PRltST. • They took their way, Vhere lonj-extended plains of pleasure lay. The verdant. fields with those of hcav'n may vie. With yEther vested, and a purple sky : The blissful seats of happy souls below ; Stars of their own and their own suns they know. Some in heroic verse divinely sinj^ ; Others in artful measure lead the ring. Here patriots live who for their country's good. In fighthig fields, were prodig;al of blood. Priests of unblemish'd lives here make abode. And poets worthy their inspiring God ; Those, who to worth their bounty did extend. And thobe, who knew that bounty to commend. VIUGU., BY DRYDEN. Klysiura shall be thine I The blissful plains Of utmost earth, where. Rhadamanthus reigns. Joys ever young, unmix'd with pain or fear. Fill the wide circk of the eternal year. Stern winter smiles on that auspicious clime: The fields are fiorid with unfading prime : From the blealc pole no winds inclement blow. Mould the round hait, or flake the fleecy snow : But from the breezy deep the blest inhale The fragrant murmurs of the western gale. homer's ODYSSEY, BY POPE, Then bless'd the man, whom gracious heav'n has led Thro' life's blind mazes to th' immortal dead ! Who safely landed on the blissful shore. Nor human folly feels, nor frailty more ! —Wisely heaven in silence has conlin'd "The happier dead, lest none should stay behind, BROOME. Let us suppose a man blind and deaf from hig birth, who being grown up to man's estate, is by the dead-palsy, or some other cause, deprived of his feeling, tasting, and smelling 3 and at tlie same time has 1^20 LACKI.sGTON S CONFESilONS. has the impediment of his hearing removed, and tlie lihn taken off his eyes-j- wJiat the live senses are to i\s, that the touchy taste and smell were to him. And any other ways of perception of a more retined and extensive nature were to him as inconceivable, as to us those are which will one day be adapted to perceive those things \^ hich ^' eye has not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive." And it would be just as reason- able in him to conclude tlmt the loss of those three senses could not possibly be succeeded by any new inlets of perception 3 as in a modern freethinker to imagine there can be no state of life and perception without tlie senses he enjoys at present. Let us farther suppose the same person's eyes, at tlieir first opening, to he struck with a great variety of the most gay and pleasing objects, and his ears with a melodious concert of vocal and instrumental music: behold him amazed, ravished, transported) and you have some faint glimmering idea of the extatic state of the soul in that article in which he emerges from tliis sepulchre of fiesh into life and immorta-> lify. ADDISON. Who vvuiiiu nut willingly leave ^fooUshy froward, illnatured world, for the blessed society of \\ ise friends and perfect lovers? What a felicity must it be to spend an eternity in such a noble conversation! where we shall hear the deep philosophy of heaven communicated with mutual freedom in the v,ise and amiable discoiu'ses of angeh and glorified spi- rits: who without any reserve or affectation of mystery, without pfl^5io7Z, or interest yor peevish con^ teutioii for victory , do freely philosophize j and viutu- ally impart the treasures of each otlier's knowledge. For since all saints there are great philosophers, and all philosopliers perfect sairits, we must need* suppose knowledge and s^oodnessy wisdom and cha- rity to be equally intermingled throughout all their conversations 3 being so, wiiat can be imagined nior« lackington'9 confession*. 121 ixiore delightful ! When therefore we shall leave this impertinent, unsocial world, and all our good old friends that ha\'e gone to heaven before U5, meet us • as soon as we are landed on llie shore of eternity ^ and-with infinite congratulations for our safe arrival, shall conduct us into the company of the patriarcJis and prophets, apostles and martrys, and introduce us into an intimate acquaintance witli them, and with all those brave and generous souls who by their glo- rious examples have recommended themselves to 4:110 world J when we shall be familiar friends with aiigefs and archangels, and all the courtiers of hea- VC7L shall call us ^Td^^^r^w, and bid us enter into their Master s joy. * In a page or two further the good Doctor says,»-^ The happiness of a man in heaven consists not so much in the glory and splendor of tlie place, as in the inward state of his own mind, which fonns a suitableness of temper to the heavenly objects that dotli always truly employ and exercise its faculties about them. — - — ^llie main dilference between virtue -and heaven is only gradual; that virtue is tlie be- ginning of heaven, and heaven is tlie perfection of virtue. •Dr. Saatrs Christian L{fe, Chap. 1. But nobler strains of bright seraf>hic love Warm my bold fancy in the realms ubovc, Delighted with some kindred soul to stray, And range the dazziing icalais of ^mrer day. MAURICr. Hail ! 'faithful champions of your God, Who once have felt the poignant rod, Endur'd the malice of your foes, And drank a bitter cup of woes ; "But now the great reverse is given,, The dear inheritance of hedvcn! "Where the frail tenement of dust. That once infected mortal peace, Form'd in the likeness of the just. Partake of joys that never cease; « Where ^22 LACKINGTON 5 CONFESSIONS. Where happy souls the g;lorious struggle siirf , Till the bright realn^s with boundless triumph, ring. COURTIER, O, ye blest scenes of permanent delight I Full above measure ! lasting beyond bound 1 A perpetuity of bliss is bliss: Could you so rich in rapture, fear an end, That ghastly thought would drink up all your joy, And quite unparadise the realms of light. Safe are ye lodg'd above these rolling spheres : The baleful influence of whose giddy c^nce Sheds sad vicissitude on all beneath. DR. YOUNG. My friend Dick said, that he had often pleased himself with the hopes of not only seeing and being acquainted with eminent Christians, such as New- ton, Locke, Boyle, Fenelon, Pascal, tlie Man of lloss. Dr. Johnson, J. Hanway,' Howard, and otliers, but also Pythagoras, Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Epictetus, Cicero, Cato, &:c. I advised our good lady to read Dr. Scott*s Christian Life, particularly the first part ; and also Sherlock, on the Happiness of good Men in a future State J ,and Dr. Watts, on the Happiness of Separate Spirits. I also told her that she would find some rational, and many amusing passages on the happi- ness of the celestial regions, in Mrs. Rowe's works^ 1 will conclude this long letter with a few lines of tliat pious lady.- O, come ! ye sacred gusts, ye pure delights, Ye heav'nly sounds, ye intellectual sights ; Yc gales of paradise, that lull to rest, And fill with silent calm the peaceful breast ; With you, transporting hopes, that boldly rise, And swell, in blissful torrents, to the skies ; That soar with angels on their splendid wings. And search th' arcana of celestial things, i-lere let me dwell and bid the v.orld adieu ! And still converse, ye glorious scenes, with you. Altliough I intended to conclude with the above lines, yet I cannot ixelp adding the following : The LACKINGTpN S CONFESSIONS. 123 The blooming heirs of heav*n's immortal throne! On earth's vain scenes they look superior down, Nor hecfl the tempest's rage that howls below ; Bat firmly fixM on their eternal rock. Dauntless they bear the billows' rudest shock, With bplder zeal aspire, with warmer rapture glow. Death but unlocks the adamantine gate That barr'd their passage to the happier state: They see attendant angels hov'ring round ; They see the golden crown, their bright reward ! Celestial robes of dazzling white prcpar'd. And hear th' eternal hallelujahs sound! As bolder now their raptur'd view they raise, Th* Omnipotent his awful face displays, From the bright centre of surrounding day ; And now no more can earth restrain, "With seraph wings they cleave th' ethereal plain, And bound and revel in the unclouded ray. MAURICE. All hail, Religion !t— thou alone canst fire •Our kindling thoughts with views beyond the tomb ; To brighter plains by thee we dare aspire. And snatch a foretaste of the world to come. Oh ! still as through life's dreary vale I stray, X)n my sad soul thy cheering influence pour ; That guided by thy bright unerring ray, Mv feet may gain at lengrh that .heavenly- sJiorc. MAUiliCS. I am. Dear Friend^ Youi'«, ^' 2 LEUm 124 lackington's confessions. LETIER XIX. — — Like a man that long in idle dreams Has lain, deluded to himself he seems. MRS. ROWi;, Thus Earth, and all that earthly minds admire. Is swallow'd in Eternity's vast round. To that stupendous view when souls awake, Times* toys subside ; and equal ail below. DR. YOUNG. Philosophy Dreani'd of immmortal life ; but drcam'd by starts ; By starts awaked, and doubted. — To her search The light was feeble, and the field around Was long and dark, and desolate — She gave The palm to Hope — Hope on his rainbow plumed. Sat wrapt in vision, and his glittering wings Expanding reach'd the skies ; but Doubt behind, Slow dogg'd his flight, and breathed a sullen cloud. That scrccn'd its glories from his misty view. ogilvie's puovidencr. DEAR FRIEND^ I NOW sit down to give you a few more particulars relating to my conversion to Christianit}'. My conversion was not in.stantane- ous, but progressive j for, in retreating from the cause of infidelity, I disputed every inch of ground before I relinquished it. I found it impossible long to remain a downright atlieist, but was sceptical for «ome years -, and I even had an atlieistical pam- phlet, whicli was hard to be come at, reprinted, on hearing that the author had in great haste taken away nearly the whole of his own impression from the dilFerent booksellers where tliey had been left for sale. I also advised a Scotch bookseller to re- print another work in the cause of infidelity ; which he did, and I purchased many of die impression and sold them. During this period I did not think that the LACKINGTON's CONFESSIOxNS. 125 the belief, or disbelief, of any article of faith, had any influence on the morals of mankind. About nine or ten years since^ one of the French emigrants wanted me very much to print a transla- tion from the French of an atheistical work ; but having begun to see the bad effects of such publica- tions, he could not prevail upon me to have any thing to do with him or his works j nor from tliat time do J recollect vending any of tlie new produc- tions of that kind^ or any prohibited democratical work 5 indeed I never would disseminate any dis- loyal publications, but steadily ever resisted the temptations on that head, even from men of high rank and title. I for many years had doubts as to the immortality of the soul, and, at intervals, disbelieved that doc- trine 3 but 3S I occasionally read the Night I'houghts. of Dr. Young, his strong arguments in favour of the soul's immateriality and immortality, p-evented me from settling in unbelief on that important arti- cle. I also once dreamed, (pray do not laugh and think me still dreaming,) that I saw the finest poem I had ever read in my life j on which I reasoned thus. As I never saw any composition equal to that which I read in my dieam 3 and as from the ideas which I retained of it when I awoke, it ap- peared a thousand times more beautiful than any thing I could compose when awake, therefore my soul must be immaterial j for otherwise I could not,, while in a state of sleep, have combined and arran- ged such a variety of beautiful and delightful ideas as to me appeared a new creation. On this head Bishop Butler says, " That we have no reaifon to think our organs of sense precipients, is confirmed by instances of persons losing some of tkem, the living beings themselves, their former occupiers, remaining unimpaired. It is confirmed also by the experience of dreams ; by which we find we are at present possessed of a latent, and, what would otherwise be, an unimagined, unknown power of G 3 percdving 1:^6 lackington's confessicns perceiving sensible objects, in as strong and lively a manner withoiU our external organs of sense as with them." I presume, that the good Bishop in this passage only speaks of 'our common dreams, which \^'as by no means the case of mine. Dr. Young, in the following lines, intends only common dreams. Tis past conjecture ; all things rise in proof : While o'er my limbs sleep*s soft dominion spreads. What though my soul fantastic measures trod O'er fairy fields ; or mourn'd along the gloom Of pathless woods ; or down the cr^iggy steep Hurl'd headlong, swam with pain the mantled pool ; Or scal'd the cliff; or danc'd on hollow winds With antic shapes ? Wild natives of the brain ! Her ceaseless flight, tho' devious, speaks her nature Of subtler essence than the trodden clod ; Active, aerial, tow'ring miconfiu'd, Unfetter'd with her f;ross companion's Fall. Ev'n silent night proclaims my soul immortal : Ev'n silent night proclaims eternal Day. For human weal, heav'n husbands all events ; Dull sleep insimcts, nor sports vain dreams in vain. NIGHT THOUGHTS. The following lines were often impressed on my mind, and were repealed by me times without number, when alone : - Why shrinks the soul Back on herself and startles at destruction ? Tis the divinity that stirs within us ; *Tis heav'n itself that points out an hereafter. And intimates eternity to man. Eternity ! thou pleasing, dreadful thought ! ajddison's cato. It is not my design to adduce the proofs of those doctrines that I have again heartily embraced, but I cannot help inserting a few quotations on some of those points. Cicero says, in his Tusc. Quest. *' We can never believe, that after the virtuous have ^^^^gl^ sciences, and discoveries, it is* impossible but the being which contains all these must be immortal.'* O tell not, most subtle disputant, That I shall die, the wick of life consum'd, And spite of all my hopes drop into the grave. Never to rise again, will the Great God, Who thus by annual miracle restores The perish'd year, and youth and beauty gives. By resurrection strange, where none was ask'd, I>cave only man to be the scorn of Time And sport of death ? Shall only he one Spring, One hasty Summer, and one Autumn see, And then to Winter irredeemable lackington's confessions. 129 Be doom'd, cast out, rejected, and despis'd ? 'i'*?ll me not so, or by thyself enjoy 1 AC melancholy thought. Am I deceivM ? So let me be for ever. If I er^;. It is an error sweet and lucrative. For should not heav'n a further course intend Than this short race of life, 1 am at least Thrice happier than thee, ill-boding fool, Who strivest in vain the awful doom to Hy That I not fear. But 1 shall live again. And still on that sweet hope shall my soul feed. A medicine it is that with a touch Heals all the pains of lite ; a precious balm, That makes the tooth of sorrow venomless, A ad of her hornet jting so keen disarms Cruel Adversity. hurdis. I will concltide^ tills with a few lines from wy favourite author. Eternity*?^ vast ocean lies before thee. Give the mind sea-room ; keep it wide of ear^/i. That Rock of souls immortal ; cut thy cord ; VVeiph anchor ; spread thy sails, call ev'ry wind ; Eye the Great Pcle-star ; make the Land of Life. NIGHT THOUGHTS. L will pfoceed with my narrative in, my ntxt. I am. Dear Friend, Your's- G^ , ' JLLITEO:. 130 lackington's confessions. LETTER XX. 'Tis done, at last, the great deciding part '. The world's subdu'd, and thou hast all my heart. 1 see a boundless prospect still before. And dote upon my former joys no more ; Celestial passions kindle in my soul. And ev'ry low, inglorious thougiit controul. MRS. ROWt. Ignorant of themselves, of God much more. And how the world begun, and how man fell Degraded by himself, on Grace cipcnding. PARADISE REGAINED* On argument alone my faith is built ; Reason pursu'd is Faith ; and, unpursu'd Where proof invites, 'tis Reason then, no more ; And such our Proofs that, or our Faith is ri^ht. Or Reason lits, and heav'n designed it wrong. BR. Y0UN6. DEAB FRIEND^ ABOUT eight years since, the being and providence of God, Wi^re a good deal impressed on my mind, so that I often reflected on tliose im- portant subjects in my garden, in tlie fields, in bed, in short in all places. The principles and duties of natural religion had some influence on my mind and conduct. I sometimes went to church, where I felt a spirit of devotion ; so tliat I found ray heart engaged in the prayers, and felt some degree of thankfulness to God. I also felt tlie same spirit of devotion at times when not at church. Nor could I help admiring tlie character of Christ 5 his precepts also appeared to me perfectly well calculated to pro- mote lx)th public and private happiness. In this state of mind I went quietly and content- edly on for some years. As 1 had no relish for the ridiculous pursuits of those around me, my amuse- ment was reading, or, now and then, scribbling. lat lackington's concessions. 131 I at last (as I have before informed you) began to read some extracts from books on divinity, which I found in the Reviews. Those extracts gave me a more thoughtful turn, and left my mind open to conviction. The first entire work tliat I read in defence of revealed religion, was Archdeacon Pa- ley's View of the Evidences of Christianity; This very excellent work I })erhaps fiever should have read, had I not met with a pirated edition of it^ (the whole being printed in one volume duodecimo^ on decent paper,) which I bought bounds for tliree and sixpence. I ever was disgusted and put out of humour \\hcn 1 saw any work spaced out with leads, and other contrivances used to enlarge its bulk, and to make it sell for four times the price it might he well afforded at 3 tliere are many thou- sands of my mind, who will not purchase where sucii extortion is practised. I'he work in question might be handsomely printed in one volume (instead of two) octavo, for such as wish for a handsome edition J and for such as wish to have it cheap, it might be printed on a decent paper, in duodecimo, and sold bound for 3s. 6d. were this done, there would be no bounds to the sale of it, as thousands would be given away ; and very great good done ; and the publisher would in tlie end get more by it. I would just observe also, that when books in divi- nity are published at such extravagant prices, the authors (who, sometimes, having sold or given away their copyright, have no liand in setting tlie prices) are blamed, and looked upon as extortic)ners, while they are enforcing the pure doctrines and pre- cepts of the gospel. — But to return from this digres- sion. By the time I Ivid gone through this very able and convincing work once^ I was effectually hum- bled, and obliged to cry out, God be m«rciful to me a dreadful sinner ! I was obliged to confess, tliat the wisdom, power and love of God were displayed in the gospel. G Q But JL32 lackington's confessions. But altliough I was convinced that the gospel wa3 a revelation from God, yet I had great doubts as to the dispensations contained in the Old Testa- ment : nor did I think the New Testament an in- spired work : in ^hort, I gave but little more credit to either tlie Old or New Testament, than I did to Xenophon, or Livy. As I believed that Xenophon andHyy were honest men, and faithful historians, I- therefore credited their narrations. And even in tliis view of the authors of the New Testament, 1 could not help believing that the Christian religion was a revelation of the will- of God.. On the same evidence I saw that I ought to believe the Old Tes- tament dispensations were from God y yet the vari- ous objections which unbelievers have repeatedly made to the Jewish dispensation, together with many texts in the Old Testament, were difficulties I could not get over, until I had read part of Paley again : and also the third enlarged edition of the first volume, and the second edition of the second Tolume of Jenkin's Reasonableness and Certainty o^ tlie Christian Religion. This very extraordinary, learned and sensible 'W'ork, gave me ample satisfac- tion on those heads : — and it is worth remarking, that this work was written before Tyndal, Collins, Morgan, &c. \vTote tlieir objections and misrepre- sentations, which makes them the more inexcusa- ble. I have induced several of the clergy to look into this masterly work, who now think it a per- formance tliat discovers great, reading, great abili- ties, and biblical learning. When I had satisfied myself on the above heads, I* still had my doubts as to some of the mysteries of the Christian Religion. The divinity of Christ, the doctrine of the Trinity, and the atonement made by Clurist, 8cc. J could not believe, because I could not • comprehend them. I believed that Christ was sent by Goii to give mankind a pure system of morality, to assure us of the immortality of the soul, tlie re- surrection of.tlie body, and future rewards and pu- nishments :> iACKINGTON's COXFESSIONS. 133^ Bishments : and that by his perfect life, his suffer- ings and death, he had given us an excellent exam- ple. Further than this I could not believe, until I had again, and again, consulted the scriptures, various commentators, and the works of many other learned divines ; from whom I received great assistance ; particularly, from Jenkin, and also from Bishop Butler's Analogy of Religion, an exceedingly valua- ble work. In this study I have employed a very large portion of my time, and in. it I. have found a lasting source of pleasure and delight. After all my investigation, aldiough I assent to. the tnith of those doctrines, I do not pretend that I comprehend them. I only believe them, because! think they are taught in the Old Testament, and by Christ and his Apostles in the New Testament. The following passage in Butler's Analogy of Re- ligion, pleased me mucli, '* Hence, (says the Doc- tor) namely, from analogical reasoning, Origen has with singular sagacity, observed,, tliat *^ he who be- lieves the scripture to have proceeded from him. who is- the A'jtlior of Nature, may well expect to* find the same sort of difficulties in it, as we found in the constitution of nature.' On the quotation the Doctor adds, '' And in like way of reflection it may be added, that he who denies the scripture to have been from God, upon account of tliese ditH- culties, may, for tlie very same reason, deny the world to have been formed by him. On tlie other hand, iftlierebe an analogy, or likeness, between that system of tilings and dispensation -of Provr- ^ence, which revelation informs us of, and tliat vsystem of tilings and dispensation of Providence which experience, together with re '^ miiformly in tlie negative. I am certain diat '* they are not in general ^o : tlie greater part of " them indeed are veiy ignorant, (which is thfe case •' of enthusiasts of every religion 3) but I believe. '^ that a very considerable number of the Metliodists '^ are a sincere, honest, and friendly people. In *' justice to tliose of that description it may not be *' amiss to observe, that many artful, sh-, designing "' persons, having noticed tlieir character, coii- '^ nection, &:c. and knowing tliat a religious person '^ is in general supposed to be honest and consci- *< entlous, have been induced to join their societies, ' ' and by assuming an appearance of extraordinary *' sanctity, have the better been enabled to cheat '^ and defraud such as were not guarded against <^ their hypocritical wiles." If at a time when I had shaken hands with Chris- tiauity and parted, I was obliged in conscience to assert LACKINGTON S CONFESSIONS. 14/ assert that they were in general honest, friendlj and sincere 3 you may easily suppose that I am not now pleased with my attempts to render them ridi- culous^ as I learn by so doing I have in some mea- sure been aiding the cause of intidelity. And> per- haps what I have said might also have tended to en* courage some hardened and impenitent sinners, who are ever ready to apply what might be said in a light, trifling way, against fanaticism or superstition, to any degree of religious worship or conduct that is beyond the ordinary custom of the world. I also think that I should not have endeavoured to render the whole of those people ridiculous, as by so doing I have grieved many who are sincerely worshipping God, and, as they think, m the best way and manner it is possible to worship him. I still think that some of their tenets are wrong, and that thej" are led to believe some absurdities j yet it must be acknowledged that they have been the means of reclaiming and civilizing many igno- rant, hardened and notorious wretches, in whom it were hard to say whether the devil or brute were most predominate ; yet such as tliese have by them been induced e\ er after to live pious, sober, industri- ous members of societ3^ I must also observe, that when we see so much coldness and indifference towards religion and reli- V gious duties ; when so many seem to think that if our brethren sleep they do well; it was not a time, at least for me, to be declaiming so mij^h against vnihwsiasm.' I must conclude this, and linish tlie <^ubjet\t in my next. I am. Dear Friend, Your' 3. n 2 LETTER 14S LACE-INGTOn's COWFESSieNS. LETTER XXm. Here foul-mouth'd slander lay reclin'd. Her snaky tresses hiss'd behind ; A bloated toad-stool rais'd her head ; The plumes of ravens were her bed; She fed upon the viper's blood. Revenge, that base Hesperian known A chief support of Slander's throne. Amidst the bloody crowd is seen, And treach'ry brooding in his mien ; The monster often chang'd his gait. But march'd resolv'd and fix'd as fate: Envy commands a sacred band, "With sword and poison in her hand j Around her haggard eye-balls roll ; A thousan«Ufiends possess her soul. The artful unsuspected sprite, "With fatal aim attacks by night. Her troops advance with silent tread. And stab the hero in his bed. Th* insidious sland'ring thief is worse Than the poor rofcue who steals your purse. r COTTOK. DEAR FRIEND, I AM also sorry that in my Memoirs I iniserted two letters said to be A\ritten by Mr. Wesley. When I inserted them I informed my readers that I copied them from a pamphlet entitled " A Letter to the Rev. T. Coke, LL. D. and Mr. Moore^ by an old Member [of Mr. Wesley's So- ciety]. I was induced to l)elie^-e those letters to be genuine, partly by their bearing some resemblance to IMr, Wesley's style and manner, but more so from the notice which was printed at tlie end of the second letter, and is as follows. Should any one entertain a douhi concerning the foregoing letters leing uritten ly Mr. Wesley, the author can produce the originals^ for the satisfaction LA€KINGTON's CONFESSION!. l4g of such, if they will take the trouble to call on the imhUskcr, who -has his address, and will refer theni to him. When I transcribed these letters from the above pamphlet, the third edition of my Memoirs was in the press ) and as the printer was nearly come to the part where I wished them to be introduced, I sent tlie copy off in a hurry, and tlien set off to my house at Merton. Some time after these extracf.'inary letters had been printed in my Memoirs, I was not quite satis- fied that I had omitted to see the originals. Upon which I sent my head sliopman, with my compli- ments to the author of the pamphlet, and requested a sight of tho.-e original letters -, but,, instead of complying \\ ith my retjiiest, he returned for answer, that he had returned the letters' to the persons to whom they were ivriiten. When I found that he could. not, or would not produce the originals, I was more dissatisfied vvith^ myself for having inserted them in my Memoirs. In all subsequent editions of those Memoirs F should liave left them out ; but after they had found: a place there, had they been omitted, I thought my readers might be displeased, and think that I had not done right in omitting them 5 others that never saw the pamphlet from whence I infomied my. readers I had transcribed them, might think they were fabricated by me, and that I had from consci* ous guilt left them out. Upon the whole, I thought it best not to omit them : so that they are to be fjund in about twelve thousand copies of tlie Me- moirs of my life. I have ever, in subsequent editions, informed ray readers that I could not be certain as to their au- thenticity, as I had sent to tlie author and requested a sight of the originals, and that he had returned the above answer. I also shewed the pamphlet from whence I transcribed them to all that desired to see it; and I still keep it by me. It was printed for J. H 3 Luffman. 150 LACKINGTON'b CONFESSIONS. LufTmafi, Alfred-buildings, Windmill-street, Moor- fields^ H. D. Symons, No. 20, Paternoster-row 3 J. Phillips, No. 27, City-road J and J. Cottle, Bristol. Supposing Mr. Wesley to be the autJior of the 6rst of these letters, he could not have been an ho- nest man, or sincere in ^^ hat he professed to belic\e, as I ever believed him to be until I saw that letter. Even \Vhiie I was an infidel I respected him so much for these qualities, and his unwearied disinterested labours, in what lK"'believed to be the cause of God and the good of mankind, that it always gave me pleasure to see him pass by my shop. After I had seen those letters I was often in doubt as to his real character. When I reflected on his primitive man- ner of living, his sufferings, his unparalleled labours for more than sixty years together, &c. I could hard- ly tliink it possible for a human being to be for sucii a lengtli of time, and in such a manner, only acting a feigned part j for had he been the author of the first letter he must have been a hypocrite, or a freethinker, or both. Jt is a horrid crime to misrepresent and blacken ■Any person's character. ** The dark villain who shall aim ** To blast a fair and spolkssname, ** He steals a precious i;em away, " Steals what both Indies can't repay.'* .It was still worse to blacken sucli a person as every pious man must acknowledge Mr. Wesley to have been. Not\vithstanding (what I conceive to be) all his enthusiasm and wrong opinions, he certainly was a venerable character, who served his God and the King faithfully. Being much dissatisfied with myself for inserting these Letters in my Life, lest by tliis means I should have (althougk unintentionally) helped to spread abroad a false opinion of a good man, I sent for Dr. Whitehead's Life of Mr. J.Wesley, and by the Doc- tor's account of his death, I am fully convinced that lackington's confessions. 151 his life was uniformly consistent with the opinion which I had formed of his character ; and whoever will take the trouble to look over that part of the work will, with me, be convinced that those two letters which are ascribed to him^ were -fabricated to answer some base puq^cse. Tyead on his ashes still, ye ruffians, tread ; By venal lies defame the sacred dead ; With Satan still your feeble malice shew. The last poor eflbrts of a vanquish'd foe ; T' arraign a saint deceas'd profanely dare, . But look to meet hira at the last great bar, > And horribly recant your hellish slander there. -^ ELEGY ON R. JOhfES, ESQ* I will transcribe tlie account of his death, vol. ii, page 454. Tuesday, March 1, 179I, '' In the fore- noon he said, ' I will get up.' While they were pre- paring his clothes^ he broke out, in a manner that astonished all who were about him, in singing, " I'll praise my Maker while I've breath, And when my voice is lost in death. Praise shall employ my nobler powers : My days of praise shall ne'er be past, While life, and thought, and being last. Or immortality endures !" *^ Having got him into his chair, they observed him. change for death. But he, regardless of his dying body, said with a weak voice, ' Lord, Thou givest strength to those who can speak, and those who can- not. Speak, Lord, to all our hearts, and let thern know tliat thou loosest tongues.* He then sung, ^ , "^ « To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost ; " Who sweetly all asree"-*- '' Here his voice failed. After gasping for breath he^ said, ' Now we have done all.' He was then laid on the bed, from whence he rose no more. After resting a little he called to those who were with him, 'To pray and praise.' Soon after be H 4 said;, 162 lackington's confessions. sald^ ' I.et me be buried in nothing but ^vliat la woollen 3 and let my corpse be carried in my coifin, into the chapel.' And again called upon them to * pray and praise 3' and taking each by the hand^ and atiectionately saluting tliem, bade them fiire- A^'oll. Attempting afterwards to say something, which they could not understand, he paused a lit- tle, and then with all the remaining strength he had, said, ' The best of all is, God is with us.' Again, lifting his hand, he repeated the same- words in a holy triumph, ' The best of all is, God is witli us.* Something being given him to moisten his lips, he said, * It will not do ; we must take the conseijiK^ice. Never mind tlie poor carcase.' Eeing told that his brother's widow was come, he said, * He giveth his servants rest 5' thanked her as she pressed his hand ; and alfectionately endeavour- ed to kiss hor. His lips being again wet, he re- treated his usual grace after a meal 5 * We thank thee, O Lord, for these and all thy mercies : bless the church and king ; grant us truth and peace, througii Jesus Christ our Ix)rd.' After some pause, he saida * The clouds drop fatness. The Lord is with us. The God of Jacob is eur refuge.' He acrain called them to prayer, and appeared fen^ently to join in their petitions. **" Most of the following night he often attempted to repeat the psalm before mentioned j but could only get out, ' I'll praise — 111 praise.' On Wed- nesday morning his end drew near. Mr. Bradford, his- old and faithful friend, who, witli the affection of a son, had attended him many years, now prayed with him ; and the last word he was heard to arti- culate was ' farewell.' *' A few minutes before ten, on the second day of March, while a number of his friends were kneeling round his bed, died Mr. John Wesley, without a groan. He was in the eighty-eighth year of his age ; had been sixty-five years in the ministr)^ 5 and the preceding pages will be a lasting memorial of his uncommon lackington's confessions. 153 uncommon zeal^ diligence, and usefulness in his Master's work, for more than half a century. His death was an admirable close of so laborious and useful a hfe." In reviewing Mr. Wesley's character^ Dr. White- head quotes (page 46g) what Dr. Johnson said of 'him, viz. '* Mr. Wesley's conversation is good 5 he talks well on any subject -, I could converse with him ail night." Page 4/2, ''His (Mr. Wesley's) liberality to the poor knew no bounds, but an empty pocket. He gave away, not merely a certain part of his income, but all he had : his own wants pro- vided for, he devoted all the rest to the necessities ofotliers. He entered upon this good work at an early period. We are told when he had thirty pounds a year he lived on twenty-eight, and gave away forty shillings. The next yeai receiving sixty pounds, he still lived on twenty-eight, and gave away two-and-tiiirty. The third he received ninety 4)ounds, and gave away sixty-t\yo. The fourth year he received one hundred and twenty pounds, still he lived on twenty-eight, and gave to the poor ninety-two." In this ratio he proceeded during the rest of his life 5 and in the course of fifty years, it has been supposed, he gave away between twenty .md thirty thousand pounds." I have said before, in my Memoirs, that he left behind him at his death 41. Ws, I am. Dear Friend, Your's. IJ^TTEH- 154 lagkington's confession*. LETTER XXIV. With eloquence innate his tongue was arm*d ; Tho' harsh the precept, yet the Preacher charm'd. For letting down the p;oldcn chain from high, He drew his audience upward to the sky. ■ He bore his great commission in his look : Yet sweetly temper'd awe ; and soft'ned all he spoke, " He preach'd the joys of heav'n, and pains of htll ; -| And warn'd the sinner with becoming zeal : > But on eternal Mercy lov'd to dwell. -' His preaching much, but more his practice wrought ; (A living Sermon of the Truths he taught;) For this by Rule^ severe his Life he squar'd, That all might see the doctrine which they hear^ For priests, he said, are patterns for the rest : (The Gold of Heav'n bears the God imprcss'di But when the precious Coin is kept unclean. The Sovereign's Image is no longer seen. If they be foul, on whom the people trus% "Well may the baser Brass contract a rust. Ever at hand was he without request. To serve the sick ; to succour the distres»'d : Tempting on foot alone, without affright The dangers of a dark tempest'ous night. Such was the Saint ; who shone with every grace. Reflecting, Moses-like, his Maker's Face. God saw his Image lively was express'd ; And his new work, as in Creation, bless'i. drydbn's good parson. OEAR FRIEND, I HOPE you will excuse me if I give yoM one letter more on Mr. Wesley, as I think that such an extraodinary person must be interesting to every curious observer of human nature 5 and having been misled and deceived mj^self to the prejudice of hia real character, I am the more interested in what 'concerns him, Page 477> Dr. Whitehead says, ^^ I shall finish this review of Mr. JVesley's character, with two or three sketches of it diawn up by different persons.'* " Now tlxat Mr, John Wesley has finished Li^ coursf upon, lackington's confessions. " 155 upon earthy I may be allowed to estimate his cha- racter, and the loss the world has sustained by his death. Upoif a fair account it appears to be such, as not only annihilates all the reproaches that have been cast upon him 3 but such as does honor to mankind, at the same time that it reproaches them. His natural and acquired abilities, were both of the highest rank. His apprehension was lively and dis- tinct J his learning extensive. His judgment., though not infallible, in most cases excellent. Hi^ mind was stedfast and resolved. His elocution was ready and clear, graceful and easy, accurate and unatiected. As a writer, his style, though unstu- died and flowing with natural ease, yet for accuracy and perspicuity, was such as may vie with the best writers iii the English language. Though his tem- per was naturally warm, his manners were gentle, simple, and uniform. Never were such happy talents better seconded by an unrelenting perseve- rance in those courses, whicli*singular endowments, and his zealous love to the interests of mankind marker] for him. His constitution was excellent: and never was a constitution less abused, less spared, or more excellently applied, in an exact siubservience to the facultres of his mind. His la- bours and studies were wonderful; T'he latter were not confined to theology only,, but extended to every subject that tended, either to the improvc*- ment, or the rational entertainment of the mind. If we consider the reading he discovered by itself, his writings, and his other labours by thernselves, any one of them will appear sufficient to have kept a person of ordinary application, busy during the whole of his life. In short, the transactions of his life could never have been performed, without the utmost exertion of two qualities} which depended, not upon his capacity, but on the uniform stedfast- ness of his resolutions. These were inflexible tem- perance, and unexampled economy of time. In tiiese he was a pattern to the 9ge he lived in 3 and h6 iia. 156 lackington's confessions. an example, to what a surprising extent a man may render himself useful in his generation, by tempe- rance and punctuality. His friends and followers have no reason to be ashamed of the name of Me- thodist, he has entailed upon them : as, for an un interrupted course of years, he has given the world «n instance of the possibility of living without wast- hig a single hour ; and of the advantage of a regular distribution of time, in discharging the important duties and purposes of life. Few ages have more needed such a public testimony of the value of time;- and perhaps none have had a more conspicuous ex- ample of the perfection, to which the improvement of it may be carried. '^ As a minister, his labours were unparalleled, and such as notliing could have supported him. un- der, but the warmest zeal for the doctrine he taught, and for the eternal interests of mankind. He stu- died to be gentle, yet \ igilant and faithful towards •11. He possessed himself in patience, and preser- ved himself unprovoked, my, even unruffled in the midst of persecution, reproach, and all manner of abuse, botli to his person and name. But let his works praise him. He now enjoys the fruits of his labours, and that praise which he sought, not of men, but of God. *' To linlsh the portrait. Examine the tenor of of his life, and it will be found self-evidently incon- sistent with his being a slave to any one passion or pursuit, that can fix a blemish on his character. Of what use were the accumulation of wealth to him, who, through his whole course, never allowed himself to taste the repose of indolence, or even of the common indulgence in the use of tlie necessa- ries of life. Free from the partiality of any party, the sketches of this excellent character, with a fi-iendly tear, pays it as a just tribute to tlie memory of so great and good a man, ^^ho when alive was his friend." Page 479, Dr* Whitehead says, '^ The following, so lackixgton's CO^'FESSIOKS. 157 •o far as it goes, is an accurate and beautiful picture of tliis extraordinary man." '* Very lately, I had an opportunity, for some days together, of observing Mr. IVesley with atten^ tion. I'^ndeavoured to consider hina, not so much with the eye of a friend, as with the impartiality of a philosopher 3 and I must declare, every hour I spent in his company, afforded me fresh reasons for esteem and veneration. So hue an old man I never saw. The happiness of his mind, beamed forth in his countenance. Every look shewed how fully he enjoyed 'The gay remembrance of a life well spent :' and wherever he went^ he diffiased a portion orf his own felicity. Easy and affable in his demeanor, he accommodated himself to every sort of company, and shewed how happily the most finished courtesy may be blended \\ ith the most per- fect piety. In his conversation, we might be at a loss whether to admire most, his fine classical taste, his extensive knowledge of men and things, or his ovei-flowing goodness of heart. While the grave and serious were charmed with his wisdom, his sportive sallies of innocent mirth delighted even the young and thoughtless 3 botli saw in his uninter- rupted cheerfulness, the excellency of true religion. No cynical remarks on the levity of youth, embit- tered his discourse : no applausive retrospect to past times, marked his present discontent. In hlnij even old age appeared delightful, like an evening without a cloud 5 and it w^as impossible to observe him without wishing fervently, ' may my latter end be like his !' ** I find myself unequal to the task of delineating such a character. What I have said, may to some appear as panegyric 3 but there are numbers, and those of taste and discernment too, who can bear witness to the tiTith, though by no means to the perfectness of tlie sketch I have attempted. With such I have been frequently in company ^ and every one of them^ I am persuaded^ would subscribe to all 153 lackington's confessions. all Ihave said. For my own part, I never was so happy as while with him, and scarcely ever felt more poignant regret than at parting from him ; for well 1 knew, ' 1 ne'er should look upon his like again.' I cannot forbear giving a part of anotlier portrait which Dr. \\liitehead has introduced in* his work. '* His indefatigable zeal in the discharge of his duty has long been \\ itnessed by the world j but, as mankind are not always inclined to put a generous construction on the exertion of singular talents, his motives were imputed to the love of popularity, am- bition, and lucre. It now appears he was actuated by a disinterested regard to the immortal interest of mankind. He laboured, and studied, and preached^ and wrote, to propagate, what he believed to b# tlie gospel of Christ. The intervals of those en- gagements were employed in governing and regu- lating the concerns of his numerous societies 3 as- sisting the necessities, solving the dithculties, and soothing the afflictions of his hearers. He observed ijo rigid a temperance, and allowed himself so little repose, that he seemed to be above the infirmities of nature, and to act independent of the earthly tenement he occupied. *^ The recital of the occurrences of every day of his life would be the greatest encomium. '^ Had he loved wealth, he might have accumu- lated without bounds. Had he been fond of power, his influence would have been worth courting by- any party. I- do not say. he was without ambition ; he had that which Chnstiamty need not blush at, and which virtue is proud to confess. I do not rj;;iean, that which is grafted on splendor and large possessions ; but that which commands the hearts and affections, the 'homage and gratitude, of thou- sands. For him tliey felt sentiments of veneration, only inferior to diose they pay to heaven : to hini- Ihey locked as their father,, tlieir benefactor, tlieir guide tQ glory and immortality : for him they fell prostrate LACKINGTON S CON'rESSIOVS. J ji) prostrate before (iod, witli prayers and teats, to spare his doom, and prolong his stay. Such a re- compence as this, is suiBcient to repay the toils of the longest life. Short of thh, greatness is con- temptible impotence. Before this, lofty prelakn bow, aud princes hide their diminished heads. '^ His zeal was not a transient blaze^ but a steady and constant flame. The ardor of his spirit was neither damped by .difficulty, nor subdued by age. This was ascribed by himself, to ttie pow er of Divine grace j by the world to enthusiasm. Bo it what it will, it is what philosophers must envy, and infidels respect ; it is that which gives energy to the soul, and without which there can be uo greatness or heroism. ''' Why should we condemn that in religion, which we a^iplaud in every other profession or pur- suit ?. He had a vigour and elevation of mind, which notlung but the belief of the Divine favour and pre- sence could inspire. This threw a histre round his infirmities, changed his bed of sickness into a tri- umphal car, iind made his exit an apotheosis ratiier than a dissolution. *' He was qualified in every branch of literature : he was well versed in the learned tongues, in Meta- physicSy in Oratory, in Logic, in Criticism, and every requisite of a Christian minister. His style was nervous, clear, and manly -, his preaching was pa- thetic and persuasive 5 his Journals are artless and interesting 3 and his compositions and compila- tions to promote knowledge and piety, were almost innumerable. '^ 1 do not say he was without faults, or aboi'e mistakes ; but they were lost in the multitude of his excellencies and virtues. '"^ The great purpose of his life was doing good ; for this he relinquished all honor and preferment 5 to this he dedicated all the powers of body and mind 5 at all times and in all places, in season and •ut of ^eason^ by gentleness, by t#rror, by argu- ment. l60 lackington's confessions. ment, "by persuasion, by reason, by interest, by every motive and every inducement, he strove with unwearied assiduity, to turn men from the error of their ways, and awaken them to virtue and reli- gion. To the bed of sickness, or the couch of prosperity ; to the prison, the hospital, the house of mourning, or the house of feasting, wherever there was a friend to serve, or a soul to save, he readily repaired j to administer assistance or advice, re- proof or consolation. He thought no office too hu- miliating, no condescension too low, no undertak- ing too arduous, to reclaim the meanest of God's offspring. The souls of all men were equally pre- cious in his sight, and the value of an immortal creature beyond all estimation. He penetrated the abodes of wretchedness and ignorance, to rescue the profligate Irom perdition; and he communicated the light of life to those who sat in darkness and in the shadow of death. He changed the outcasts of society, into useful members; and civilized even savages, and tilled those lips with prayer and praise, that had been accustomed only to oaths and impre- cations. But as the strongest jeligious impressions are apt to become langTiid without discipline and practice, he divided his people into classes and bands, according to their attainments. He ap- pointed frequent meetings for prayer and conversa- tion, where they gave an account of their experi- ence, tlieir hopes and fears, their joys and troubles; by which means they were united to each other, and to their common profession. They became centi- nels upon each other's conduct, and securities for each other's character. Thus die seeds he sowed sprang up and flourished, bearing the rich fruits of every grace and virtue. Thus he governed and pre- served his numerous societies, watching their im- provement with a paternal care, and encouraged them to be faithful to the end." Page 484. " The figure of Mr. Wesley was re- markable. His stature was low 3 "his habit of body in LACKINCTOn's CONTKS^IONS. W% \n every period of life, the reverse of corpulent/ and expressive of strict tempersnce; and continual exer- cise : and notwithstanding his small size^ his step was firm, and his appearance, till witliin a few years of his death, vigorous and muscular. His face, for an old man, was one of the finest we hav© seen. A clear, smooth forehead j an aquiline nose, an eye the brightest and most piercing that can be conceived, and a freshness of complexion scarcely ever to be found at his years, and impressive of tlie most perfect health, conspired to render him a ve- nerable and interesting figure. Few have seen hira without being struck with his appearance : and many, who had been greatly prejudiced against him,, have been known to change their opinion, the mo- ment they were introduced into his presence. In his countenance and demeanor, tliere was a cheer- fulness mingled with gravity; a sprightliness, which was the natural result of an unusual flow of spirits, and yet was accompanied witli every mark of tho most serene tranquillity. His aspect, particularly his profile, had a strong character of acuteness and penetration. ^' In his dress, he was a pattern of neatness and simplicity. A narrow, plaited stock, a coat with a small upright collar, no buckles at his knees, no silk or velvet in any part of his apparel, and a head as white as snow gave an idea of something primi- tive and apostolic j w hile an air of neatness and cleanliness was diftused over his whole. person." Perhaps I cannot conclude this letter better than with the following lines : A dying Saint can true believers mourn ? Joyful they see their Friend to heaven return ; His animating words their souls inspire, And bear them upwards on his car of Fire : His looks when language fails, new life impart ; Heaven in his looks, and Jesus in his heart ; He feels the Happiness that cannot fade, With everlasting Joy upon his Head. Start* 102 LACKINGTOn's CONFESSIONa. Starts from the Flesh, and gains his native ski Glory to God on High !— the Christian dies ! Dies from the world, and quits his earthly clod, Dies, and receives the crown by Christ bestow'd, \ ihts into all the Life and Plenitude of c;.^H. J J am^ Dear Friend, Your's. XETTER XXV. " Seest thou, Lorenzo 1 where hangs all our hope ? " Tach'd by the Cross, we live, or more than die.*" «* Lord ! I take thee at thy word, ** My wickedness I mourn ; «* Unto thee, mv bleeding Lord, -•* However late, 1 turn : ** Yes ; I yield, I yield at last, " Listen to thy speaking blood, •* Mc, with all my sins I cajit ** On my atoning God," T>EAK FRIEND, I HAVE lately, on more than one occasion, been obliged to subscribe to the truth of the words of Christ, If any vian will do the will of vjy Father, he shall hiow of the doctrine which I teach ii'hether it le of God, I am more than ever convinced, that if we do not love darkness rather than light, this light 7vill shine more and more on our minds, and dispel tlie mists and darkness in which we are by nature and sin enveloped, and that the perfect day will at last burst forth on our souls 3 and then it is that we understand tlie meaning of these words. In my light yc shall see light. I have before^ in part, informed you^ that for sometim;? lackington's confessions. 103 past I have been made willing, and vcj-y desirous of not only knowing the will of God, but also of doing it. And by the grace of God I have also, for some lime, been able to live soberly, righteously, and godly in this sinful world', regardless of the sneers, laughs and jokes ot my thoughtless acquain-tancc. In proportion as the concern for my own salvation sunk deeper in my mind, the more was I affected in reflecting en the condition of my fellow- creatures around me ; the following lines have often been mournftilly repeated by me : ** Ye simple souls that stray, " Far from the path of peace, ** (That lonely, unfrequented way,) ** To life and happiness i " Why will ye folly love, " An .' throng the downward road, .» ** And hate the wisdom from above, ** And mock the sons of God ?" About twelve months since I sent for some cheap religious books, viz. The Whole Duty of Man, the Great Importance of a lleligious Life, Baxter's Call to the Unconverted, Brown's History and Doctrine of the New Testament, Gilpin's Lives of Ti-uman^, Atkins and Baker, and various others ; some of which I gave away, others I left at a poor man's house to be by him lent to such of the farmers, or poor people, ao would read them. And I had rea- son to think that some little good was done, by thus giving them an opportunity of reading without any expence. To some young men whom I thought would not read religious books, I lent Robinson Crusoe's Ad- ventures, and some other moral and entertaining v/orks, in order to employ them in the winter even- ings, and by this means, prevent them from spend- ing their evenings in bad company. For young wo- men I got Susan Gray, The Wojkhouse, Sec. I also orot many of a cheap edition of Addison's Evi- • ' denceg 1(54 lackiKoton's confessions. dences of the Christian Religion, and some of A^'at- son's Apology for the Bible, in Letters to T. Paine ; these I put into the hands of freethinkers ; and I believe they made some impression on their minds. I now saw that it was my duty^ M'hen opportunity offered, to point out the dreadful consequences of persisting in a wicked course of lite, and of neglect- ing eternal concerns ; and I perceived that those re- proofs, and serious observations, made some littlt alteration in tlie conduct of se^veral. Last summer, being in Taunton, at the house of Mr. J. Smith, brother to my first wife, his son brought in a parcel of those religious tracts which are published by the Religious Tract Society, and sold cheap by T. Williams, Stationer's-court, Lud- gate-street, L/ondon. I had heard before tliat there was such a society established, but knew not where their tracts could be had ; nor did I know that they were such as were proper to be put into the hands of the poor 5 so that I was much pleased v/ilh an op- portunity of procuring some of them. I took one of each of more than thirty sorts 3 and when I got home, Mrs. L. and I read them over together, in order to know if they were proper to be disperrcd abroad, and whetherv tliey were calculated to do good to such as should read them. In going through these pamphlets I found that altliough the con"?- pilers had carefully avoided a party spirit, and ap- peared to be influenced by a love to their fellow- creatures, and a desire to promote the interest of religion in general, more than that of any sect or party in pailicular; yet I tliought that in several of them inward religion was too much insisted upon. Although I looked upon myself as a member of the Church of England, yet I did not approve of that tract entitled, *' tlie Good Old Way, or the Religion of our Forefathers, as explained in the Articles, Li- turgy, and Homilies of the Church of England^ brief- ly displaying Man's Ruin by Sin; his Recovery ef- fected by Christ 3 and his Gratitude, expressed by Obedient/* lackington's confessions. 1^ Obedience." Over the title of this I wrote, *^ me- tliodistical/' and would not send for one of them; on several othei-s I wrote, ^^ ratlier metliodistical," and of such I, sent for but a few, and those I in- tended for some of the most ignorant and the niosted harden : for I was not so much prejudiced .against the Methodists as to wish my fellow-crea- tures to live in sin and ignorance rather than be- come Methodists, but could have been heartily glad to have seen- the bulk of mankind turn Metliodists, rather than continue to live as though tliey \\-ere not accountable creatures, — as tliough there was no fu- ture state, in which the wicked will be punished^ and the righteous rewarded 3 or, in other words, where every man shall receive according as his ivorks have been, whether good or lad. Still I was not thoroughly sensible of man's utter inability to do any thing of himself towards his acceptance with God j that salvation is ly grace, and justification by faith in the blood of Christ j of having peace witli God, and an assurance of his pardoning mercy j and the love of God shed abroad in oar hearts. These were subjects that did not much please me. I did not at this time deny that a very few of the highly favoured people of God might, possibly, be blessed with the knowledge of their being reconciled to God J but as to it being the common privilege of real believers, was what I could not believe. The reading of those tracts increased the serioits impressions which had been made before on my mind j and as I tliought that most of tliem were, upon the whole, well calculated to awaken my poor neighbours in the villages around, to a sense of their wicked way of life, I sent for about three thousand of them, and many of them I have already given away to the farmers, labourers, soldiers, &c. The more I employed my time and money in attempts to be serviceable to the souls and bodies of my fel- low-creatujres, the more was I disposed towards reli- gious duties, and enabled to enter into the spirit cf religion, 166 lackinqton's confessions. religion, aiid I wished for the mind' that was tn Christ with some degree of ardor. Mrs. L. also partook much of the same disposition 3 so that no books now pleased us so well as those tliat treated of divine subjects. We had, iome time before this, giveii up novels, romances, and books of a tricing nature. Now we even neglected history, voyages and travels, &c. not that we thought it wrong to read them, but .because we found more pleasure and satisfaction while engaged with those that treated of divine truths and religious duties. We are sensible that we wanted continually to be put in mind of what we owed to God and our neighbour. In a former letter I told you that I sent for Mr. Wesley's Life ; but I did not inform you of some .particulars relating to that circumstance. About a year ago, a respectable clerg}'man frequently called on me, and I told him that I was sorry that I had inserted in my Memoirs the two Letters that were ascribed to Mr. Wesley. He joined with me in wishing that I had not been so imposed upon. Not long after this he brought from Bristol Dr. White- head's Life of Mr. Wesley, 2 vols. 8vo. I having ex- pressed a wish to see in what state of mind Mr. Wesley died. After having satisfied myself on that head, I returned the set of books, as I had no inten- tion to read any more of the work, but the account of his death. In spring last, I wished again to see the account of his death, aud I sent to the Temple of the Muses for tlie work j and after I had ^gain read the account of his death, and his character, as drawn by several liands, and transcribed theiu, as in two former letters you have seen, I put by the set of books, having no inclination to be made acquaint- ed with his ministerial proceedings, l^it after hav- ing read such a number of tracts, as raentipned above, and various volumes in divinity, and much in the bible, I again took up Dr. Whitehead's Life of Mr. Wesley, and as J saw by the title-page that lackington's confessions. 167 It contained an account of Mr. Wesley's ancestors and relations, the life of Mr. Charles Weslej, (whom I had often heard preachy) and a histoiy of Methodism^ I requested Mrs. L. to help nie in reading it through. To describe the conflict, and the different com- motions which passed in my mind while we were reading this excellent work is impossible. I have been instructed, delighted, much confounded, and troubled. That divine .power which has been felt by tliousands and tens of thousands under tho preaching of Mr. Wesley, his brother Charles, and others of his preachers, again humbled me in tlie dusf. I sunk down at the feet of Christ and washed them with my tears. Sorrow, joy, and love^ were sweetly mingled together in my soul." I once more, after so many years^ knew a little of v^hatWse lines express : ** The godly grief, the pleasing smart, " The meltings of a broken heart. ** The seeing eye, the feeling sense, *< The mystic joy of penitence. " The guiltless shame, the sweet distress, ** Th' unutterable tenderness, " The genuine, meek humility, *< 1'hc wonder, « why such love to me ?* " The o'erwhelmrng power of saving grace, " The sight that veils tiie seraph's face, ** .The speechless awe that dares not move, '* And all the silent heaven of love." I was now convinced that the pardoning love of God, which forty years since was first manifested to my soul, was a divine reality, and not tlie effect of a heated imagination. Thousands, and tens of thou- -sands, who are gone to glory, have borne testimony to the truth of tliis doctrine ; and I learn that there are still tens of thousands of living witnesses to the .^ame gloi-ious .truth, and can joyfully sing. Thy' l68 LACKISGTON's CONFESsIONiS. Thy mighty name Salvation is, And keeps my happy soul above. Comfort it brifigs, and power and peace. And everlasting love: To me with thy dear name are givea Pardon, and holiness, and heaven. Jesus, ray all in all thou, art. My rest in toil, my ease in pain, The med'clne of my broken hciirt ; In war my peace, in loss my gain. My smile beneath the tyrant's frown^ In shame my glory and my crown. I am. Dear Friend, Yours. LETTER XXVI. Oh ye cold-hearted, frozen, formalists ! Oil such a Theme, 'tis impious to be calm ; Passion is reason, transport temper, hti.e. Shall heav'n, which j^ave us ardor, and has shcwm Her own for Man so strongly, not disdain What smooth emollients In theology, Recumbent virtue's downy doctcrs preach. That prose of piety, a lukewarm praise ? Rise odors sweet from ijicense uninjiam^df Devotion, wtien lukewarm, is undevout ; But when it glows, its heat is struck to heav'n j To human hearts the golden harps are strung,; High heav'n's orchestra chaunts Amen to man. Talk they of morals ? O, Thou bleeding Love f The grand morality is love of Thee. Thou most indulgent, most tremendous pow*r ! Still more tremendous for thy wondrous love ! That arms, with awe more awful thy commands j And foul transgression dips in sev'nfbld night ; How our hearts tremble at Thy love immense! In love immense inviolably just I Thou, rather than thy justice should be stain'd. Didst stain the cross ; and work of wonders far The greatest ! that thy Dearest far might bleed. youK«. DEAR LAL KINGTON'S CONi-'EfiSIONS. i(ig • EAR FRIEND, DIVINE truths now rushed upqm me like a flood, and swept away all objections. I " Feel the e^reat truths^ which burst the tenfold night *♦ Of heathen error, with a golden flood ♦* Of endless day ; Tofeely is to be fir'd ; *' And to believe, Lorenzo, is to feel." I am at last constrained to acknowledge that the mighty power of God has been manifested from the beginning amongst the Methodists ; and that the jjame Almighty arm is still exerted in overturning tlie kingdom of darkness. Sinners are still brought fiom darkness to light ; are rescued from the power of sin and Satan. God is still adding daily to his church such as shall be saved. It is built Sfi a rock, the Rock of Ages ; nor have the powers of earth and hell been able to prevail against it. ** The Lord is Kins^, and earth submits, ** Howe'er impatient of his sway : " Between the cherubim he sits, «* And makes his r.stlcss foes obey. ** All power is to our Jesus given ; " O'er earth's rebellious sons he reic;nv ; " He mildly rules the hosts of heaven, *♦ And holds the powers of hell in chains. I now can scaicely think it possible for an ULpre- jiuliced person to read the Life of Mr. Wesley, and not ackrio\\ledge that the path he took, and ever after continued in, was pointed out by the linger of God. By going out into the streets, highways and hedges, and calling sinners to repentance, and preaching salvation by grace to a lost world, what countless numbers have thrown down the weapons of their rebellion, and enlisted under the banner of the cross. Sinners of ever}^ description have been omjx^Ued to'come in. Old, daring, hardened sin- I ners IJ'O LACKINGi^OK 5 CONFESSIONS. ners have been made bumble and gentle as lan:bs The wise, in tlie things of this world, have given up their wisdom, and have become teachable as litil(^ children. The self-righteous have been brought trembling to the foot of tlie cross, where they gladly accept of pardon and salvation as the free, unme- rited gift of God through Christ ; and feelingly join in singing, I the chief of sinners am ; Yet Jesus died for me I I am astonished that no more of tJioae good, well- meaning ministers, (for many such tliere are, both in the church of England ar:d also amongst the Dissenters,) who have a concern for the welfare of mankind, and would gladly turn sinners from Uie errdr of their ways, but yet from year to year, and even for ten, twenty, thirty^ or forty years together, keep on preaching without ever converting one soul to God, or even making any serious and lasting im- pression on their congregations, are not convinced that tfiere must be something materially defective in their ministrations. They see the drunkard still gets drunk J they hear the swearer blaspheme as much as ever 5 they see tlie sabbath-day still pro- faned 5 fornication and adultery are still practised 3 tlie unholy continues unholy still -, parents still bring up their children in forgetfulness of their Creator, antl the things of anotlier world. In short, when they die, they leave tlie poor creatures over whom they were overseers, in as bad, €r worse state than tkey found them. How is it that such men do not reflect, and see that something must be fatally wrong dther in thtj matter or manner of their preaching. These gentlemen will occasionally dwell on the ineificacy of moral philosophy to reform mankind. They will point out the deplorable state which the Heathen v/orld was in before Christ came. They will clearly prove that the doctrines taught by Socrates, Aristotle, LACKINGTOn's CON?E3SIO!)f8. l^l \ristotle, Plato, and Epictetus, did but very little towards the reformation of manners. They will alsoj sometimes, treat of tlie wonderful effects pro- duced by preaching of Christ crucified } and some of those will preach sermons, where the name of Christ is not once introduced. They seem to have forgotten him: and Plato's Commonwealth, Plu- tarch's Morals, and Tully's Offices, are substituted fgr the New Testament. They forget " The great truths which burst the tenfold night ** Of heathen error, with a golden flood- ** Of endless day." Talk they of morals ? Oh, Thou bleeding Love ! The grand morality is love of Thee. you n« . '^ It is said, that when Baxtej* first came to Kid- derminster he found it overrun with ignorance and profaneness. He found but a single house or two, that used daily family prayer in a whole sti'cet; and, at his going away, but one family or two could be found,* in some streets, tliat continued iA the neglect of it. And on Lord's days, instead of the open profanation to which they had been so long accustomed, a person in j^assing through the town, in tlie intervals of public worship, might overhear hundreds of families engaged in singing psalms, reading the scriptures, or otlier good books, or such sermons as they had taken down on hearing them delivered from the pulpit. The number of his stated commanlcants rose to six hundred 5 of whom he iiimself declared, there were pot tweh^e concerning whose sincere piety he had not reason to entertain good hopes. Blessed be God the reli- gious spirit which was thjLis happily inti'oduced, is yet to be traced in the town and nejghbpurhood^ in some degree," 'J lie wonderflil effects produced by tlie preaching, and oilier labours of the late Mr. Fletcher, at Mad- \e.y, are pretty well known. I wiph every minister '12 of 172 LACKINGTON*8 CONIESSIONS. of the gospel would read his Portrait of St. Paul, as published bv Mr. Gilphi. It is an excellent work. The vaiioiil traits in St. Paul's character are drawn in a masterly manner ; and the traits that Mr. Gil- pin has given us of the author, shews that the worth of immortal souls w^as deeply impressed on his heart. He took heed to himself and his doctrine, as one that was soon to appear before the great Shepherd and Bishop of souls, to give an account of himself and those committed to his care. Such as will read that work, and Dr. Whitehead's Life of Mr. Wesley, must learn that God is still with such as faithfully dispense his word, and boldly declare that tliere is no other name given under heaven whereby men can be saved j that other foun- dation can no man lay than that which is already laid, which is Jesus Christ. It was by thus preach- ing Christ, that three thousand were converted by one sermon preached by Peter. " Jesus, the name high over all " In hell, or tarth, or sky ! ** Angels and men before it fall, ** And devils fear and fly. " Jesus, the Name to sinners dear, " The Name to sinners gircn! " !t scatters all their puilty fear ; '» It turns their hell to heaven." In Mr. Wesley's Life we learn, that plain men, •without any pretension to learning or great talent?, have, by preaching Clirist crucified from a real heart-felt love to Christ, and to their fellow-crea- tures, s»een their labours attended witli tlie most wonderful effects j sinners have been iirst pricked to the heart, and after that have been enabled to be- lieve to the salvation of tlieir souls, and have ever after lived so as to adorn tlie gospel of Christ in all things ; so that the world have taken knowledge of them that tliey had been witli Jesus. The life that thCT lackingtqn's confessions. l'^^ ihcy henceforth Hved was by the faitli of the Son of God, who loved theni, and gave himself for them, tc> rodeeni them from this present evil world, and hereafter from the wratli of God, which is ready to be manifested against all ungodliness and unrighte- ousness of men. •* Jesus the prisoner's fetters breaks, " And bruises Satan's head; ** Power into strenijthless souls it speaks, ** And life into the dead. " His only righteousness they shew. " His saving faith proclaim: " 'Tis all their business here below, ** To cry, Behold the Lamb 1" Thus does God by the foolishness of preaching save them that believe. By this " foolish preach- ing," as it is called by the world, the hearts and lives of tliousands and tens of thousands have been totally changed; drunkards became sober 3 adulterers became chaste 3 the covetous were made liberal 3 the extravagant, careful 3 and the most ignorant werg made wise unto salvation, and able to give a rational account of the religion of Christ 3 the brutish weie civilized 3 the passionate were made gentle 3 the proud were made humble and meek} the cruel and hardhearted were made merciful iuid tender- hearted 3 the unjust became just in all tlieir deal- ings 5 slanderers and backbiters were made par- takers of that love that thinketh no evil, hopeth all things, believeth all things, and coveretli a multi- tude of the sins of others 3 the selfish churl be- came friendly 3 liars spoke the truth 3 blasphemers became adorers of God 3 thieves provided things ho- nest in the sight of all m^en 3 rebels became loyal, and prayed for the King and all in authority 3 smug- glers, and tbeir encouragers, learned to render unto Cjjesar the tilings that are Caesar's 5 sabbath-breakers learned to spend that day in religious worship and 1 3 pious i^4 LACKINGTOn's LOStKiclUSr.. pioiis exercises 5 the idle became iiulastrious. lu ^hoi% like the apostles, they turned the v orld up- aide down, knowledge arose out of ignorance, order €iit of confusion, light out of darkness, happiness ©ut of misery, heaven out of hell. Who can reflect on these wonderful changes without acknowledging that this must be the work of God ? The powers of earth and hell have a thousand times been stirred up against this work in vain. The gates of hell have not been able to pre- vail against it. It has increased, is increasing, and God grant that it may never be diminished, but in- creased a thousand fold. What says my old friend to all this ? Will you also be his disciple? Methinks I hear you say, Aluiost thou persuadest me to be a Methodist. ** O that the wodd might taste and s^e *' 1*he riches of his grace ! •* The arms of love that compass me, ** Would all mankind embrace. ** O that my Jesu's heavenly charms '* Might every bosom move ! ** Fly, sinners, fly into the arms *< Of everlasting Love." I am. Pear Friend, Your*5. LETTEH LACKINGTOX'S CONl ESSION S. 1^5 LETTER XXVII. Be useful where thou livest, that they may Both want and wish thy pleasing presence stilL ■ Find out men's wants and will, And meet them there. All worldly joys are less Than this one joy of doing kindnesses. Yet, had his aspect nothing of severe, But .such a face as promis'd him sincere, Nothing reserv'd or sullen was to see : But sweet regards ; and pleasing sanctity : Mild was his accent, and his action free. GOOD PAIlSOKi ** The weary ^nd.burthen'd, the reprobate race ; *' All wait to be pardon'd, thro' Jesus's grace. " In Jesu's compassion the siek find a cure : ** And gospel salvation is preach'd to the poor.'* DEAR FRIEND, HAVING tliose serious views of sacred subjects, I was more tlian ever desirous that the poor ignorant, thoughtless people in my neigh- bourhood should be awakened and made sensible of their dreadful state 3 but how to effect this I was at a loss : for in gi\'ing away the religious tracts, I found that some of the farmers and their children, and also three fourths of the poor, could not read j that some of the farmers hated the clergy on tlie score of tythes; so that some of those that now and then went to church were not likely to receive benefit from those they hated. Others of them would nei- ther go to church tliemselves nor let their faniilie;s go. Many ^f the poor also lived in the total neglect of all public worship j and spent the sabbath, some in alehouses, otliers at pitch-and-toss, fives, and other games 5 some in gossiping near each other's cottages, sometimes quarrelling, generally cursing, swearing, talking obscenely, &c. otliers employed I 4 that T76 LACKINGTON'S C0NFFoSI0N5. that day in going from one farmer to anoLlier to look at and take jobs oi' work. Such as do go to church, the sen-ice being but once in the day, spend the other part of the day in th?^ manner mentioned above, Nor do the farinera m general observe the sabbath any better than tiie poor j their time is often taken up in shewing their cattle, sheep, hogs, &c. to butchers 3 in letting jobs of work 3 in viewing the work that has been done in the week, or in pointing out what is to be done tlie week ensuing J in visiting each other, and making merry, &:c. Our church-yard is called the market. Here, before and after the seiTice, they talk over the prices that their goods sold for in the week past, and what they intend to sell for the next week. 1 was also affected to see tlie children of the poor brought up in ignorance and vice. About four years since I and a few of my neighbours began a Sunday iind day school, yet \^e found that some could not be prevailed upon to send their children to it, and the few that do come are so corrupted by the wicked ex- amples which are set them by their parents, and other children, that very little good is to be expect- ed from that quarter. After much serious reflection on this general di» regard of religion, and moral depravity, I resolved, it possible, to get some of Mr. Wesley's preachers to come and preach to tliem. Afier having been .separated from them between twenty and thirty years, and having laughed at and ridiculed them, you may suppose that my feelings on this occasion were not very pleasant; but I knew that they had learned of their divine jMasler to return good tor evil, and that they also went about doing good, and made it the grand business of their lives to warn sin- nei s to fly from tlie wrath to come 3 so that at last I went to Thornbury and found out a gentleman who is a member of dieir small society there, and desired that the next preacher that came there would do me tl^^i^ favour of calling on me. On Saturday, the 1st of October, LACKINGTON's CONIESSIONS. 1^7 October, 1803, Mr. Ward, one of the preachers in le Dursley circuit, paid me a visit. To this excel- lent young man I communicated my concern for the stupid, poor unliappy wretches around me ; and al- though he had to preach three times the next day, at nine in the morning and at half past five in the even- ing at Thornbury, and at Elberton, three or four miles from Thornbury, at two -, and although his health is so much impaired by preaching, that it was lately tliought that he never would be able to preach more ; yet this kind-hearted young man cheerfully agreed to, and did preach on a Common called Alveston-Down, a quarter of a mile from my house, at eleven o'clock, to about sixty or seventy people, small and great. All were still and atten- tive. jMrs. L. conversed with some of them after- wards, who expressed thankfuhicrs for having heard a sermon that they could understand, as they said that they could not understand the sermons at church, because there were so many fine words in them. Blessed be God the poor liave the gospel preached unto them, in a way that they can under- stand, hi a thousand })]aces in England. And here- also, I cannot help remarking, tliat e\-en while I was an infidel, I often regretted that the clergy did not adapt their discourses to the capacities of their hearers 3 as I liave fomid that many of the farmers, and most of the poor, know very little of what they have ever heard preached in most of their parish churches. 1 am very confident tliat not one tenth- part of country congregations are iible to understand Avhat they hear preached. What a pity it is that the clergy, particularly sttch as live in tlie country, do not, in their compositions, imitate tlie fine, plain, language of the Common-prayer-book. But to re- turn from this digression. That I should again hear a Methodist preachec under a hedge was matter of surprise 5 but what was much more surprising, the preacher gave notice tliat there would be preaching in my house on the. 15 evening >78 lackingxon's cokfessions. evening of tlie Friday se'nnight follo^ving. 'Jiils aftair has been, and is still, the subject of conversa- tion for many miles around. Letters to various parts of England and Wales have spread tliis extraordi- nary news nearly through the kingdom. Perhaps you will be a little surprised when I inform you that Mrs. L. on the evening before, went about three miles round part of the parish, calling at every cot- tage in her way, to inform them that a sermon would be preached on the Down the next morning. With this information tlie poor people were miich pleas- ed, and promised her to be there. Mrs. L. also at- tended the seiTnon. It was the first time she ever heard preaching out of a church. She was, ho\^'- ever, much pleased to hear such an excellent dis- course, and one so well adapted to the understand- ings of the hearers. Mr. Ward, the preacher, is not quite three and twenty years of age, and if he conti- nues to preach as much as he has done for three years past, I fear that he will not live to be much oWer. But he is so zealous in his Master's cause, sb intent on bringing poor lost sinners to Christ, ^at he cares but little about his body. He is one of Madeley, where Mr. Fletcher was vicar; and al- though he was not converted under his preaching, yet he appears to partake much of the same spirit that actuated that extraordinary servant of God. I also lieard Mr. Ward that day at nine o'clock in the morning, and at half past five in the evening, in Mr. Wesley's ehapel in Thombury. All his sermons were excellent 5 and I found it was good to be there. 1 believe we should have had a much larger con- gregation on the Down, had not about five hundred volunteers been at that time exercising about half a tnile from where Mr. Ward preached. To break the Sabbath seems to be a wTong way to conquer our enemies. Our churches are nearly #mply at those times ; as tlie people of all descrip- tions are drawn to the place of exercise. There, cakes^ gingerbread^ &:c, are hawked about for sale; so lackington's confessions. 179 so that it appears more like a fair day, than the Lord's day. I am. Dear friend^ Your*s. LETTER XXVIIL Man ! know thyself. All wisdom centres there ; Angels that grandeur, Men o'erlook, admire. How long shall Human Nature be their Book, Degen'rate Mortal ! and unread by thee ? The beam dim Reason sheds shews wonders There ; What high Contents ! Illustrious Faculties ! But the grand Comme)it, which displays at Full Our Human Height, scarce scver'd from Divine By Heaven compos'd, was publish* d on the Cross. I. NIGHT TH0¥GHTS. ** Vain. Man! thy wisdom folly own, ** Lost is thy Reason's feeble ray." I>EAR FRIEND, NOTWITHSTANDING all that I kave said against the Methodists in the Memoirs of my Life, an impartial observer may see, even from my own account, that those people were of very great benefit to me. The very great alteration which took place in my life after I first heard them preach must have been remarked. Before that time I \vas a thoughtless, careless, wicked boy : from that hour I was totally changed. I then was anxious to learn to read, and it was not long before I constantly read ten chapters in the bible every day. I. also read and learned; hymns, and religious tracts. For about five years I lived a very religious life, but through inexperience, J was overcome and carried away by the dissipated scenes of a contested election. After having lived a year' in vice, by. only once hear- I Q ing ISO LACKINGTON*S CONFESSIONS. ing Mr. Wesley preach, I was effectually prevailed upoii to renounce my sinful practices, and was ena- bled to live in the fear of God. About two years after, I married a very pious w oman of i\Ir, Wcb- ley's Society : and in the midst of great affliction, which involved us in great po\erty also, I was not only contented, but frequently experienced such a happiness in my mind, as often rose even to rap- tures. We had been married only about four years, when this excellent woman died, in the fitil assu- rance of hope. Although during my wife's ill- ness and death, I lay in a state that was thought to be past recovery, yet even in this situation I was sO happy as even to astonish some who visited me. I'he readers of my Life may also recollect that the Methodists visited me and my wife during this great affliction 5 and, my business being at a stand, (in consequence of my having no one to attend to my customers,) they lent me money to defray the expences incurred during my long illness, and locked tip my shop, to prevent me from being plundered of all I had. I might also mention many other fa- vours that I received from them, which made me say in my Life, that they were *' in general a friendly, honest-hearted, sincere people." I perhaps ought also to observe, that if I had ne- ver lieard the Methodists preach, in all probability 1 should have been at this time a poor, ragged, dirty cobler, peeping out from under a bulk with a snuffy nose and a long beard 3 for it was by tlieir preach- ing that I was taught to call upon God for his grace to enable me to turn from my vicious course of life, and tlirough which I became a real Christian. It was by iheir means also, that I was excited to im- prove a little my intellectual faculties. It was through them that I got an amiable helpmeet in my first wife 5 and she likev/ise will have reason to all eternity to remember the Methodists with gratitude, for having been the instruments of her conversion ; for before she heard them preach she had not even the lackington's coxfessions. IBl the form of godliness, much less the power of it. It was also through them that I got the shop in which I lirst set up for a bookseller. It is very Jikely, that had I never heard these people^, I should have now been an old drunken, debauched fellow^ like tlie- generality of journeymen shoemakers , and it is well known, that many, very many instances 6f the same kind might bead duced j great numbers by being connected with them have learned to be industrious and frugal, by which means they have been enabled to live in credit, to provide something for their children, and to support themselves in their old age. In my Memoirs, although I have acknowledged that there are many sensible people among the Me- thodists, yet I have represented many of them as very ignorant. The reason \\ hy I thought and re- presented them as such is very evident j the more any people are influenced by religion, the more do they live as strangers and pilgrims upon the earth, the more they have respect to the retompence of reward, the more do thei/ see him that is Invlsllle. The more they possess of tlie life of God in the soul, the greater is their confidence in the providence of God over their temporal concerns. In proportion as they thus live and act, the more ignorant do they appear to the world in general, and to infidels in particular. So that in fact, the more any persons increase in the filial /ear of the Lord, w^hich, if Solo- mon was a judge, is real wisdom ; the more they increase in that wisdom which is from above -, the more they are taught of God, the more ignorant and foolish do they appear to infidels. and men of the world, who in th«ir generation are wiser than the children of light. That many ignorant people have from the begin- ning to the present time, joined the Methodists, has never been denied. / thank thee, Father, saitli Christ, that thon hast hid those things frorn the wL^e and prudent, and hast reveakd them unto hales, eveji 182 LACKINGTOn's CONFE.S5ION-S. even so Father, for so it seemed good in thy sight. You see, saith St. Paul, your calling, brethren, how that not many ivise men [philosophers] after the fiesh ; not many mighty, not many nolle, are called. But God has chosen the foolish things of the world. The preaching of the doctrines of the Cross for the reformi'tion and salvation of mankind, was from the beginning tliought to be foolishness to the philoso- phers, and moral declaimcrs. Where is the wise ? or the philosophers that read lectures of morality ? Where is the Scribe ? he that all his life has studied the Mosaic Law ? Where is the disputer of this world ? the searcher into tlie secrets of nature ? Hath not God shewn that all their wisdom is fool- ishness, and inetFectual in tlie important work of reforming mankind ? May it not be with truth as- serted, that honest John Nelson,* the Methodist Preacher, did, by preaching Christ crucified, reform more hardened sinners, than were ever reformed by all the moral lectures that were ever read to man- kind ? In St. Paul's days tlie wise were confounded on seeing the wonderful effects that were produced by the preaching of a few plain men, whom tliey termed fools, because they wanted the learning of the age. Mr. Wesley says. So wretched and obscure, The men whom ye despise. So foolish, impotent, and poor, Above your scorn we rise. We through the Holy Ghost, Can witness better things. For he whose blood is all our boast, - Hath made us priests and kings. That Mr. Wesley's people are a comparatively ig- norant people I am fully convinced is not true ; tliat the reverse is the fact may be easily shewn. I will begin with the Preachers. I suppose all must admit- that ♦ See John Nelson's Journal. i lackington's confessions. 183 that Mr. Wesley was a sensible^ learned man. His brother Charles also possessed considerable abilities, and was likewise a learned man/ Some of their Preachers are also learned men 5 others of them have great natural abilities j and if we take the whole body of Preachers together, they wilf- be found to be well versed in the theory as well as practical part of Christianity, as revealed in the New Testament. And although there is reason to believe, from the effects produced by their preach- ing, that they are assisted by the Spirit of God, yet they also know that it is their duty to read and study 5 and this duty Mr. Wesley strongly enforced and in- sisted upon, when he met them in their Conferen- ces, as appears by the Minutes of these Conferences. And as those Preachers have experienced the power of religion, and live under its influence, it must be allowed, that they are far better qualified to preach the gospel than some others who take upon them thnt sacred office. If you are desirous to see more on th(^ subject of laymen preaching, read Mr. Wes- ley's Farther Appeal to Men of Reason and Religion^ Part 3rd. and his excellent Sermon on Heb, v. 4. And no man taketh this honor to himself, hut he that is called of God, as was Aaron. In those tracts he has clearly pix>ved, that the Jews, the primitive Church, the Church of England, and other Churches, allowed men to preach that were not priests, nor in holy orders. But to return. As to the members in general of the Methodist Society, I never saw any better in- formed in religious matters. They are better ac- quainted with the Bible, and with the nature and de-« sign of Christianity, than any people I know. The comparison is particularly striking among the poorer sort. In those parts of the kingdom where Metho- dism has long been established, you will find that the poorest Methodist is able to give you a rational and scriptural account of the effects of the grace of God on the soul 3 is well acquainted with the nature of 164 lackington's confk^sions. of the threaten! ngs and promises contained in the word of God, and knows what lie has to hope and fear. I think it is Addison who observes, that reli- gion has a very great tendency to enlarge the intel- lectual faculties of man : as the Methodists do not waste tlieir time in idleness and diversions, they Iiave more time to read than others 3 they also hear many sermons preached by men of various talents amongst themselves ; and many of them strictly at- tend the service at Church: they also associate, con- verse with, and improve one another. So that the difference in degree of knowledge between tlie poor Methodists and the poor in general, is very remark- able. Mr. Addison justly remarks, that, ** The most illiterate man who is touched witli devotion, and uses frequent exercises of it, contracts a certain greatness of mind, mingled with a noble simplicity, that raises him above those of the same condition ; •itid there is an indelible mark of goodness in those who sincerely possess it. It is hardly possible it should be otherwise ; for the fei-vors of a pious mind w ill naturally contract such an earnestness and atten- tion towards a better Being, as will make the ordi- nary passages of life go off with a becoming inditfe- rence. By tliis a man in the lowest condition will not appear mean." But to a carnal mind their knowledge of the things of God appears io le fool- ishness, and the greatest realities are thought to be only whims. Spiritual things can ojily be discerned by one that is spiritually minded.. ** The things unknown to feeble sense, ** Unseen by reason's glimmering ray> ** With strong commanding evidence, ** Their heavenly origin display. <* Faith lends his realizing light, ** The clouds disperse, the shadows fly ; ** Th' Invisible appears in sight, ** ^nd God is seen by mortal eye." I am^ dear friend, your's, LETTER l^ckinuton's confession^. 185 LElTEll XXIX. ** Ah, Lord, with trembling; I confe>'^, *' A j^racious soul may l;ili trom grace ! 't The salt may lose its .<,casonh"ig power, '* And never, never find it-more. " Lest that my fearful case should be, ** Kach mofnciu knit my soul to Thee : *' And lead me to the mount above, " Thro* the low vale of humble love." DEAR FRIEND, WHEN I look into my Memoirs I Fhudder to see what I have done. I have wan- tonly treated of, and sported with the most solemn and precious truths of the gospel. O God^ lay not this sin to my charge ! Other infidels have obscured, as much as they were able, the external evidences of Christianity 5 but I made a thrust at its vital part. 'There are many thousands \\ ho never had time or opportunity, or wiio have been, somehow or other, prevented from investigating the external evidences of the Chriiiian religion, who yet are as much as- sured of its divine authority as tliey are of their own existence. They know that. Christ is come in the Jli'sh; that they are horn (J God; that they are passed from death unto life} that they were once Uind, that now they see; that old things are done away , and all ihingi are become new; ' that they were once miserable, but are now happy 5 they once were without God in the world, but now by ihdt fbith which is the operation of God, the substance of things hoped for y the evidence of things not seen, by this prcclim faith, they can say tny Father and. my God, They can call Christ Lord by the Holy Ghost.. They know what is the communion of saints, and often sit together in heavenly places in Christ Jesus, and are filed with the fulness of God; and tliey know that when this earthly talernable is dissolved 180 lackington's confessions. dissolved they have a luilding, not mad^ with hands, eternal in the heavens. It was this internal evidence which made the mar- tyrs triumph in the midst of the flames j and this evidence^ neither the pretended friends, nor the open enemies of Christianity, will ever be able to destroy. Christianity, without this, is a body without a soul. And all those who endeavour to invalidate this inter- nal evidence, are hlindy knowtJig nothiJig; ^xq false spies that bring an evil report of the good land; they are in the gall of bitterness and bonds cf i?iinuiti/, and have neither part nor lot in the matter; and, sooner or later, they will be found to be fighters against God. Jesu, vouchsafe a pitying ray, B^ thou my j^uide, be thou my way, To glorious happiness ! Ah ! write the pardon on my heart. And whensoe'er I hence depart, Let me depart in peace. I suppose you are ready to ask, how it mus pos- sible for me, who once was enlightened, and had kistcd the good word of God, and the powers of the world to come; how it was possible for me to sink into ignorance, blindness, and infidelity ? Ah, my friend, notliing is more easy. As a real Christian is one that has been called out of darkness into mar- velous light; so, as long as his eye is single, his soul Is full of light, and he walks in the light, as God is in the light, and in him is no darktiess at all; yet, if he turn back^again into Egypt, he will again be in- volved in Egyptian darkness. The sun of righteous- ness will no longer shine upon him. Adam^ as soon as he disobeyed his God, at once lost his favour and likeness, and sunk into a state of dark- ness and ignorance, and attempted to hide himself from tlie all-seeing eye amongst the trees. And when a renewed soul falls againin to a course of sin, be is at last smitten jvith blindness, and he gropes but lackington's ![:0NF^SSI0N3. 187 tut cannot Jind the door. The candle of the Lord ■>io Tnore shines upon his head. They are blind, and cannot see afar off; and have forgot that they were purged from their sins. They ivill curse, and sic car that they know not the man. As they did not like to retain the knowledge of God, he gives them over to blindness and hardness of heart. They have quench^ ed the Spirit, and done despite unto it. They no longer know tfie things which belong to their peace, they being hid front their eyes. They have eyes that see not, and ears that hear not. TIhs evidence I have attempted to invalidate. God be merciful to me a sinner ! Jesus, let thy. pitying eye Call back a wandering sheep: False to thee, like Peter, I • Would fain like Peter weep. Let me be by grace restor'd ; On me be all long-suffering shewn, Turn, and look upon me, Lord, And bfeak my heart ot stone. I have, in my '* Life," said that the Metliodists have driven people out af their mind, made them commit sixcide, iScc. But I solemnly declare tliat I never knew an instance of the kind from my own personal knowledge. I have seen it asserted in pamphlets wrote against them, and also in news- papers, and I have been told that such things have happened ^ and upon such kind of evidence I have shamefiiUy followed others in relating those stories after them. In finding fault with the Methodist preachers for endeavouring to awaken all such as were never con- verted, every one may see that in blaming tliem I also blamed the prophets, Christ and his apostles, and also the Church of England, and most other re- formed churches. The Methodist preachers often tell their hearers^ hi the words of our Church in her oih 188 LACKINUTON S CONFESSIONS. C)th Article, That every man h far gone from original righteousness; is (f his own nature Inclined to evil, so lliat thejlesh lusteth always contrary to the Spi- rit; and therefore every person lorn into the wotld descrveth Gods wrath and damnation. What die Methodists mean by conviction for bin is the same as our Church has set down in tlic communion ser- vice: JVe do earnestly repent, and are heartily sorry for these our misdoings; the rememl ranee of them is grievous unto us -, and the burthcii is into- lerable. Have mcrnj upon us, have mercy upon us, most merciful Father -, for thy Son our Lord Jesus Christ's sake, forgive us all that is past ; and grant that we may ever hereafter serve and please tnee in 7iewness of life. That which displeases the infidels and pretended Christians on this head is, the Me- thodists insist on the necessity of y^e/iw^ what we repeat, lest we be found solemn mockers of God. In the scripture this conviction is called, being pricked to the heart, under which sinners are con- strained to inquire, JVhat i>hall we do to he saved? To ci'y, God le merciful to me a sinner, &c. And \inder this conviction David roared for the disquie- tude of his soul, and watered his led with his tears. Jeremiah saitli, Be not a terror to nye. In another place God sajs, / will make thee a terror to thyself Solomon says. The spirit of a man may sustui?i his [bodily] infirmities; but a wounded spirit who can bear. This is what is intended by a contrite spit it, a broken heart, &c. So tliat what I have pointed out as a dreadful state is, I pre.>iume, quite scriptural ; and must be, more or less, felt by every person before he will see the necessity of coming to Christ for pardon and salva- tioji; before he can le bor?i tigain, or converted -, or before he can be justified, as St. Paul says, and as our Church says also, before he ever can be changed by the inspiration of his Holy Spirit ; before he can perfectly lore God, or worthily magnify his holy name. But LACKINGTON S CONi'ESSlONS. iBp But as an infidel I cared for none of these tilings, and so ridiculed them all. I'he remembrance of which has in reality been to me grievous, and the burthen intolerable! May Almighty God make all the inventors, and other wanton relaters of suck stories^ feel, before it is too late, the same sor- row and sincere repentance! and may they also ob- tain mercy through the all-atoning blood of Christ, who forgiveth all manner of sins and hla^^phemies of such as truly repent and unfeignedly bclic\ e liis holy gospel. ** After all that I have done, " Saviour, art*thou pacify'd ? ** Whither shall my vileness run ? " Hide me, earth, the sinner hide ! " Ijii me sink into the dust, " Full of holy shame adore ! ** Jesus, Christ, the Good, the Just, '* liids me go and sin no more. '* O, confirm the gracious word, " Jesus, Son of God and Man 1 ** Let me nevtr grieve thee. Lord, " Never turn to sin ag;ain ! — " Till all in all thou art! " Till thou hring thy nature in, ** Keep this feeble, trembling heart, ** Save me, save me, Lord, from sin." I am. Dear Fric nd^ Your's. LETTER ipo LETl^ER XXX. Grasp the whole world of reason, life and sensf, In one close system of benevolence : Happier as kinder, in whate'er degree, And height of bliss, but height of charity. ^ POPE. - The grave, dread thins^ ! Men shudder when thou'rt nam'd : Nature apall'd Shakes off her wonted firmness. — Ah ! how dark.-*- Lct us join, ('tis God commands,) Let us join our hearts and hands ; Help to gain our callin^^'s hope. Build we each the other up." DEAR FRIEND, I HA\'E represented some of the Methodists as troublesome obtruders on the sick and dying} so that 1 think I ought to set this matter in a clear lighV IVIr. Wesley^'s people think that they cannot love their neighbour as thenisehws, without endeavouring to lind out every possible way by \\ hich they may be serviceable to die souls and bodies of tlieu* fellow creatures. In London and Bristol, and I believe in otlier places, some of their society who are able to pray, instruct, and exhort, endeavour to find out poor distressed objects who are contiued to their beds by diiieases in poor-houses^ prisons, lodging- houses> dirty lanes, alle}'s. Sec. Those poor forsaken outcasts of society tliey instruct, exhort, pray with, Sec. To objects most in want they give money. Perhaps there cannot be any labour of love more praiseworthy, or more deserving of encouragement, as great numbers of such poor destitute wretches may at all times be found languishing in a forlorn state, and generally die without an) one caring any thing tbout them : for none but such as are lille.d vvith lackikgton's confessions. 191 with the love of God and man will ever go into such loatlisomc places and habitations, 1 lormerly ac- companied some of those loving people in this work of mercy, and have v/itne.sbcd th'.-ir cheerful per- formance of thibg-eai auty; which to a poor, selhsh, unregcnerate heart would be intolerable. But no labour, however disagreeable or hazardous to health or life, is too much to be performed by sucii as are thoroughly impressed wilh the worth of an immor- tal soul 5 who are persuaded that Chiist tasted death for every irian, and would that every man should come to the knotvledgc of the truth and be saved. While they were employed in this solemn %\'ork, if they could discover any poor creature that gave them reason to hope for his conversion, O, what love and joy warmed c\'ery heart! The Devil knew that Jol did 710 1 serve God for naught. Christ still pays his servants well for every thing they do in his name and for his sake. Those people, when employed in such work as this, which to flesh and blood is not only irksome but shocking, yet would not have ex- changed the pleasure which they found in it for any earthly enjoyment. To return to tlie subject. It is not only in cities and large towns that the poor die unvisited^ but also in many country towns, villages, &:c. In die places where 1 have lived in the former part of my life, and where I have had a country-house, or in the various villages round my present residence, I do not recollect any poor per- son who had sent for a clergyman on such an occa- sion, or of any clergyman that 'went ilnsent for. Those poor creatures generally die as stupid and careless as they have lived. When any one of them has any concern about his immortal part, he is afraid to give trouble to the vicar or curate, and ashamed to let them witness his poverty and rags. Christ well knew the deplorable state of such poor creatures, and has graciously promised to reward all such as explore their dreary abodes. B\it as an infidel, I ihought all talk about heaven and hell, praying for . them^ 192 J. ACKISGXON S CONIESSIONS. them, kc. useless and terrifying ; for which rtnso.i I exclaimed against such as perfr^rmed those kind offices. And I reccllect tliat when, about twenty years since, I was thought to be near death, I was so hardened as not to suffer any clcig)-man to come near rae, or any other religious person. Weary of wandering from my God, And' now made willing to r<>turn, I hear, and bow me to the rod ; For ihce, not without hope, I mourn ; I have an Advocate above, A Friend before the throne of lovr. O, Jesus I full of truth and grace. More full of grace than I of bin ; Yet once again 1 seek thy lace, Open thy arms and take me in; And freely my backs) idint!:s heal, And love the faithless sinner still. That an avowed unbeliever should refuse to ac- cept any spiritual advice, and not suller any prayers to be put up for him \\ hen about to quit the world, is not very surprising. But I am persuaded that there have been, and still are, very many who call themselves Christians, who when thought to he on the borders of the invisible world, would not ha\e one word vsaid to them of their real state, much less would they bear any religioiis advice, or join in prayer. And yet perhaps those very people were sucn as put orf' repentance to a sick or death-bed, not considering tliat the longer they continue in sin the more callous they are made, and that the con- sciences of many are at last scared as it were ulth a hot iron, ** Dead already, dead within, '* Spiritually dead in sin ; •' Dead to God while here they breathe, *• Panting after second daeth, •* They will still in sin remain, ♦^ Gicedy ot eternal })ain." Ver lackington's confessions. 1-93 You no doubt recollect that I have also ridiculed the private meetings established by Mr. Wesley among; his people. Nor is it at all surprising that a free- thinker should hate every means of grace, particu- larly such as have so great a tendency to keep the children of God together, and to promote all inwardT and outward holiness. I will transcribe Mr. Wes- ley's account of the'origin of his classes in London^ March 1742. ''I appointed, (says Mr. Wesley) seve- ral earnest, sensible men to meet me^ to whom T shewed tlie great difficulty I had long found of knowing the people who desired to be under my care. After much discourse they all agreed there could be no better way to come to a sure knowledge of each person tlian to divide them into classes^ under the inspection of those in whom I could con-: fide. This was the origin of classes in London, fot* which I can never sufficiently praise God, the un- speakable usefulness of the institution having ever since been more and more manifest." The per* son appointed to watch these little classes was calletl the leader of that class to which he received his ap^ pointment. Mr. IFesley called the leaders together, and desired that each would make a particular in» quiry into the behaviour of tliose he saw weekly. They did so ; and many disorderly walkers were de- tected. Some were turned from tlie evU of their ways; and some put out of the society. And th«5 rest saw it with fear, and rejoiced in God with reve* rence. At first the leaders visited each person at their own house ; but this was soon found inexpe- dient. It required aiore time than the leaders had to spare. Many persons lived with masters, mis-* tresses, or relations, where they could not be vi- sited. 'And where misunderstandings had arisen between persons in the same class it was more con- venient to see them face to face. On these, and some other considerations, it was agreed, that each leader should meet his class all together, once a week, at a time and place- mo&t convenient for the K. whole. whole. 1 le begun and ended the n:eeting wit'h sink- ing and prayer j and spent about an hour in con- versing witli these persons, one by one. By this means, a more full inquiry was made into the beha- viour of every |)cr3on j advice or reproof was given cjs need required; misunderstandinc^s were remov- ed j and brotherly love promoted. '^ It can scarce be conceiv'ed, (says Mr. Wesley,) what advantages have been reaped from this little prudential regula- tion. Many experienced tl^.at Christian fellowship, of which they had not so mu<::h as^an idt*a before. They begun to bear one another s lurthenSy and naturally to ear e for each others urifare. And as they had daily a more intimate acquaintance with, so they had a more endeared aflection for eac!) nther." Mr. JFesley further adds, '^ Upon reflection I could not but observe, this is the ^'ery thing'which was from the very beginning of Christianity. In th(^ earliest times, those whom God liad sent forth to preach the gospel to every creature^ and the body of hearers, were mostly Jews or Heathens j but as soon i4s any of these were so convinced of the truth as to forsake sin, and seek the gospel of salvation, tliey immediately joined them together, took an account of their names, advised them to watch over each other, and met those Catechuviens, as they were then called, apart from the congregation, that they might instruct, rebuke, exhort, and pray with tliem and for them, according to their several neces- sities/* Perliaps the following h}TTin, which they often sing in those meetings, will enable yon to form some idea of tiie temper and spirit by which tliey are actuated : Christ, from whom all blessings flow, Perfecting the saints below, I Icar us, who thy nature share, Who thy m}-stic body are : Jofn us in one spirit join, Ivct us still receive of chine : Stfi! LACivlN'GTON'S CON Ft -iSiaNS. 1^5 Still for more on thee we call, Thou who tillest all in all ! Closer knit to thee our Head, Nourish us, O, Christ, and feed ; Let us daily growth receive, More and more in Jesus live. Jesus, we thy members arc : Cherish us with kindest care ; Of thy flesh and of thy bone ; Love, for ever love thy own. Move and actuate, and guide : Divers gifts to each divide : Plac'd according to tiiy will, let us all our work fulfil, Never from our office move : Needful to each other prove ; Use the grace on each bestow'd, Temper'd by the art of God. Sweetly may we all agree, Touch'd with softest sympathy ? Kindly for each other care ; Kvery member fed its share. Wounded by the grief of one. Now let all the members groan : Honour'd if one member is, All partake the common bliss. Many are we now and one. We who Jesus have put on : There is neither bond or free, Male nor female. Lord, in thee ! Love, like death, has all destroy 'd. Render* d all distinction void ! Names and sects and parties fall ! Thou, O Christ, art all in all ! lam. Dear Friend, Your'g. THE ^END ap THE CONFESSIONS, k2 TWO LETTERS, ON Tll^ JJAD CONSEQUENCES OP HAVING DAUGHTERS EDUCATED liOJRBJNG - SCHOOLS, k3 TJfO LETTERS, S^c. LETTER I. '< 'TIs education forms the tender mind: " Just as the tvvig is bent the trt^e's inclind," *♦ Old maids are wretched; without husbands, ciii lire n, ** Of any of those ties which sweeten life— ♦* In grief and sorrow must they spend dicii days," I rap loudly at your gilded door?, Ve female guides, that lead our lambs astray ; And bid you be at home, ye thoughtless dames, Who leave your offspring with the hungry wolf. UURDIS. ** This would be my wish, could I " Such bitter curse allow, <* Let those I hate have spirits high, ** With fortunes that are low." ** 'Tis nobly great to dare to be ** No greater than we are." DEA.R FRIEND, DURING the forUiight that I spent ijiiA\ my friend Dick Thrifty. I could liot help ex- K 4 pressing 200 ON TiltL EDUCATION OF Tj.\V0il7£lib. pressing my surprise and regret on seeing so large a iiunriber of singJe ladies in that and other neighbour- ing villages. ** I am not at all surprised at it (said Dick), but rather wonder that more of them are not ruined •, it is only the very retired situations in which they liv* that saves them. As to their getting husbands, that is out of the question, as I am persuaded not one in ten of them will ever be kid to the altar. The young men of their rank generally go abroad, or to sea, or get into the army j for had they stayed at home ajid married they must have stai-ved. *' Those single ladies (continued Dick), are the daughters of clergymen, of officers of the army and navy, or of attornies, apothecaries, &c. A few of them are daughters of gentlemen of very small for- tunes. Many of those would-be ladies have not a hundred a year^ some of them not fifty pounds a year to live on ; and yet tliey have been brought up in idleness, and taught to consider themselves ladies. Many of them are almost totally unacquainted with every thing worth knowing; they live an half- . starved life, and, when they can, cheat at cards to help out their small pittance j their time is employ- ed in altering their gowns^ hats, &c. to the whim of the day, in reading novels, in gossipping and spread- ing scandal from house to house, &c. Now (said my friend), I presume you no longer wonder to see them single. Many of them are growing grey, and are envious at all those they see married and Inppy. Others of them are getting into the yellow leaf; and although some of them are young and blooming, I cannot help looking upon them with great concern, and execrating the stupid pride and ignorance of their parents, who, by the manner of bringing them up, have excluded them front tlie endearing re- * lations and unspeakable pleasures of wivea and mothers. «* Hqw ON THE BDUCATiaN OF DAUGHTERS, 2^1 *« How does the blood, thro* every vein, *• Run thrilling to the mother's heart ; ** When she beholds the boy maintain, " In the boy's sport, the father's part^ <' Hovvr does her bosom pant, to read " In every part some likeness caught ; ** Some semblance of his father's deed : ** Some copy of his mother's thought I; I cannot help inserting the following description of a loving couple at dinner : Now o'er a single chicken, tcte-a-tetey Two sweethearts coo ; a turtle and his mate : Love all their converse, and all thought supplies. And e'en the single chick neglected lies. BISHO?.. I must also give you a few lines from the Family Fireside of the same author, who was many years a customer of mine. I believe he 'Was an excellent husband, a6d had an extraordiary good wife. • Love, by friendship mellow'd into bliss. Lights the glad glow, and sanctifies the kiss. When fondly welcom'd to the accustomM seat,. In sweet complaisance wife and husband meet ; Look mutual pleasure, mutual purpose share, Repose from labour, but unite in care. BISHOP*. Dick went on. *' Those girls should have been^ obliged to do the work of the servant maids in their respective families, by which means some addition s> might have been made to their fortunes 5 and, what is still of much more importance, they would have acquired habits of industry, healthy and strong con- stitutions,, and would have been a thousand times more happy, it being morally impossible for an idle person to be happy/* ji 5 •* S«e 202 ON THE EDUCATION OF DAUGHTERS. " See where poor Indolence reclines ! ♦* Lolls, tumbles, stretches, sprawls, and pines i ** lafe has no pains like that she feels ; ** A thousand racks, a thousand wheels, ** In shape of ea5:y-chairs, pursue ** The wretch — who knows not what to do." Gilpin, in liis 42d sermon, says, " Avoid idle- ness j and always have your minds intent on busi- ness, or on something useflil. Idleness is the nurse of vice. They who mind their business the best are in general the best men. The devil tirst tempts you to be idle. The idle person is every man's property. Bad company is always at hand. Where idleness inhabits they resort. Here they corrupt } and here they are corrupted. The contagion spreads 5 and every bad consequence follows." Baxter says, that ** the Devil tempts industrious people j but idle people tempt the Devil." Leisure is Pain ; takes off ©ur chariot-wheels ;. How heavily we drag the Load of Life ! Blest Leisure is our Curse ; like that of Cain, It makes us wander ; wander earth around To fly that Tyrant, Thovght. As j^tlas groan'd The World beneath, we groan beneath an Hour. We cry for mercy to the next amusement ; The next amusement mortgages our fields ! Slight inconvenience ! Prisons hardly frown. From hateful Tim€f if prisons set us free Yet when Death kindly tenders us relief. We call him cruel ; Years to moments shrin£, Ages to years. The telescope is tum'd To man's false Optics, (by his folly false.) Thne, in advance, behind him hides his wings, And seems to creep decripid with his age: Behold him, when past by ^ what then is seen. "Bu^ his broad pinions swifter than the winds ? And all Mankind,, in contradiction strong. Rueful, aghast ! cry out on his career. Leave to thy foes these errors, and these ills ; To Natufe just their cazise and cure explore. Not short Heav'n's bounty, boundless our Expence ;- No niggard, Nature 5 Men are prodigals. We ON THE EDUCATION 01' DAUGRTEK3. 203 We icaste, (not usej our time ; we breathe, not live. I'iine wasted, is Existence , us'd is Life. And hare existence^ Man to Live ordain'd. Wrings and oppret'ses with enormous Weight. And why ? since Time was given for use, not waste. InJQin'd to fly ; with tempest, tide, and stars, To keep his speed, nor ever wait for man ; Time us'd was doomM a pleasure, waste a pain 5 That man might/ccZ his Error, if unseen j And feeling fly to labour for his cure ; Not bluudeiing split on idleness for eas*j. Life's cares are comforts, such by htav'n dcs'gnM ; He that has none, must make them, or be \\ retched. Cares are employments ; and without employ '{'he soul is on the Rack ; the rack of rest, To souls most adverse ; action all their joy. Here, then, the riddle, mark*d above unfolds ; 'i'hen time torments, when man turns fool. ■ The M-m who consecrates his hours By vi^Vous EfTort, and an honest Aim, At once he draws the stings of life and death ; ' } le walks wth Nature, and her paths are Peace. NlGiil TilUUGHfS. Dick contlnned. ^' In families which have more cldughlers tlian are necessary to do the work of the house, plain-work, mantua, milHnery, and other kinds of women's work should be procured, to prevent any of tliem from living in idleness ; as industrious habits w^ould make them fit to have fmiiilies of their own. Girls tlius brought up would make proper wives for gentlemen of small fortunes, unbeneficed clergymen, attornies, genteel trades- men, opulent farmers, 8cc. As tliey now are cir- ■cumstanced every prospect of marriage is excluded. The sons of respectable tradesmen and farmers avoid them, lest iheir advances should be treated with contempt. They have also a much stronger reason for keeping at a distance ; they well know, tiiat the education and habits of such girls have ren- dered them entirely unfit for ^ives for any that have not fortunes to support them in idleness, pride and extravagance. For the same reasons they are unlit k6 jo 204 ON THB EDTJCi^TlOI^ OF DAUGHTSRS, to be partners for curates, and other professional men of small incomes. *' This stupiaity, pride and folly (said Dick) is contagious, and is spreading rapidly in every direc- tion. Many farmers, observing how some, in cir- cumstances inferior to themselves, bring up their daughters, think, that because they can better alford the expence, their girls ought to be brought up as genteelly as their neighbours 5 so that instead of having them taught to read and write, and do plaiiv work at a day-school, until they are ten or eleven years old, and then taken home to help miJk the cows, &c. they are sent to a boarding-school, where they remain until they arc fourteen, or older. There they are called ladies, and learn filigree, pride, and <*xtravagance. When their education is completed, their infatuated parents find themselves despised by their own children, who think themselves ladies, and look with disdain on all they see going forward in the old farm-house. To see their father come in from tlie fields in his smock-frock, with a pick on his shoulder, is '' monstrous." To see the butcher« and pig-dealers about the house, and by the fireside, bargaining for calves, sheep, hogs, Sec. is *' insup- portable 1" To see tlieir moUier with a serge petti- coat, woollen-apron, mob-cap, and old hat milking tlie cows, making butter, cheese, &c. is ** prodi- gious monstrous." And when any of tiieir old schoolmates happen to call on them. O, they are ready to expire with shame and vexation, while they hear their mother apologize for her homely dress, «cc. Such girls, instead of being useful in the affairs of the farm-house, &c. are rendered good for no- thing j instead of assisting, they expect to be waited upon y to have horses to make their idle visits ; and 3 servant several times a week to exchange novel* at the circulating library, which is, perhaps, six, #ight, €r, ten miles off. Their idle^ gossipping tea parties ON THE EDUCATION OF DAUGHTERS. 20^5 parties must be waited on, even in tlie midst of har- vest, &c. Much might be added on this hcad"^ but I must subscribe myself. Your" s. LETTER II. In vain the virgin's tears, 1 Icr cries in vain, ber pleading pray'r, — Her agonizing woes. potter's JESCli\'l.XS. — Hence thou monster, pois'nous bawd. Lust's factor, and damnation's orator, * Gossip of hell ; were all harlots' sins Which the world contains, number'd together. Thine exceeds them all : of all the creatures That ever were created, thou art basest. M ARSON. '* Now as they pass, the crowded way shall sound *< With hissing scorn, and murm'ring detestation 3 ** The latest annals shall record their guilt." — If Individual Good engage our hope> Domestic Virtues give the largest scope ; If plans of Public Eminence we trace. Domestic Virtues are its surest base. BISHOP. DEAU FRIEND, MY friend Dick continued. ^* Al- though pride, extravagance,, and idleness, are very- great evils indeed 3 yet bad as they are, they are not the worst that young Lidie3 learn at boarding- schools,. '' A shori 206 QX THE EDUCATION OI DALtHTlRS-. "A short time since a boarding-school girl was on a visit in the neighbourhood during the Midsummer recess ; her conduct was so exceedingly forward, and even indecent, as to put the ladies out of coun- tenance. It being reported that her fortune was \ery considerable, a tradesman who w as an old rake, ran off with her to Gretna -Green, and there married her. I must remark, that bhe did not desire any female attenacint, but went aluue with this r'.ke, to many hundred miles. As no stir was niaJe about the atlhir, the tradesman soon brought her home to his own house j bat to his great surpiise found that his young wnnton wife had but about sixty pounds a-year. I'his couple being at a tea-])ar(:y sometime after they had been married, a gentleman jokingly asked her, ' When she intended rciv.rning to school again ?' And added, * You will be a know ing scho- lar.' She, AN'ith an arch look, replied al(;ud before all the company, * O, there are many in the school as knowing as I am.' In short (said Dick), her con- duct was so bad, that all decent ladies avoided her company ; nor is she ever permitted to enter ih« ball-rooms hi any of tlie country-towns in tliis neigh- •bourhood. Ye crowded boarding-schools! Are you not apt To taint the infant mind, to point the way To f.'.shionable folly, strew with fiow'rs The path of vice, and teach the wayward child Extravaj^ancc and pride ? Who karns in you To be the prtident wife, the pious mother ? To be her parent's staff, or husband's joy ? 'Tis you dissolve the hnks that once held fast Domestic hapi iness. 'Tis you untie The matrimonial knot ; *tis you divide 1 he parent and the child. O ! 'tis to you "We owe the ruin of our dearest bliss. Tlie lest instructer of the growing less Is she that bear hej. Let her first be taught, And she will sec the path of virtue smooth With often treading. Slie can best dispense That frequent medicine the soul requires. And make it grateful to the tongue of you:h, By ON THE EDUCATION Of DAUGIITERS. 20T By mixture of affection. She can charm "When otliers tail and leave the work undone. She will not taint, for she instructs her own. She will not torture for she fc"€ls herself. So education thrives, and the sweet maid Improves in beauty like the shapeless rock Under the sculptor's chissel, till at length She undeitakes her progress thro' the world, A woman fair and good, as child for parent, Parent for child, or man for wife could wish. Say, man, what more delights thee than thy fair? What should we not be patient to endure If they command } We rule the noisy world. But they rule us» Then teach them how to guide. And hold the rein with judgment. Their applause May once again restore the quiet reign Gf Virtue, Love, and Peace, and yet bring back The blush of foUy and the sharac of vice. VILLAGE CURATE. " I will (said Dick) give you another instance of the dreadful depravity uf boarding-schools. " A friend of mine has lately taken \m two grrld from one of those hotbeds of vice ; tlie eldest of those girls was nearly twelve, and the youngest nearly eleven years old ; his motive for taking tliem from school at so early an age,, was to ])revent them from being corrupted ; but, dreadful as it is to re- late, he found, by the depraved conduct of tlie eldest that she had already been debauched ! And it was also discovered by the artless complaints of the youngest, that attempts had also been made upon her ; and that she had been ill-treated for not per- mitting shocking indecencies. '^ After tills horrid discovery had been made,, my friend (continued Dick) in a letter, remonstrated, and tlireatened the person that keeps the schooL To this letter a very extraordinary answer was re- turned. (Dick had it by him, and gave it me to read.) It tacitly acknow^ledged tliat the girl had been debauched -, but, as an excuse, said, tliat she had been corrupted at a former school two years be- fore. I omit many particulars of this abominable ti'ansaction 203 OS THE EDUCATION OF nAUCHTERS. transaction for the sake of decency, and to spare your feelings, " She's lost ! She's gone ! the beauty of the earth ;. *' All that in woman could be v irtue call'd *' Is lost ; corrupted are the noble faculties; " The temper of her soul is quite mfected : " Boarding-schools have spotted all her virgin beauties.** *^ I saw also two letters that werfe for sometime concealed by the girl ; tb;se letters contained the plan and very minute particular directions for cany- ing on a private correspondence between her and the villain, her seducer.'* The preceding relation of my friend Dick, revives in my mind some similar transactions which hap- pened near town j tlie account of which I had from, another worthy friend. A few years since a respectable man, in appear- ance, of a very genteel profession, which enabled him to live as a gentleman, married a giil of easy virtue. They botli acquired a taste for shew and expensive dissipation ; and like too many others, did not stick at any means, however detestable> by which tliey might be able to support tlieir way of living. Soon after he had married this woman, he took a large house in a lonely situation, about a mile from a country town, and within a few miles of London ; so tliat he was enabled to attend to the duties of his profession. This countiy house he had fitted up as a boarding-school, where young ladies were to be taught many elegant accomplislmients, to receive the finishing touches of their education from his ac- complished and virtuous wife. What followed is so shocking that I shudder at the recollection of it^ and scarce know how to pro- ceed. Consummate horror^ guilt beyond a name ! 1U81RI5.. Thi» ©N- THR EDUCATION OF DAUGHTERS. 20^ This villain got acquainted with some old supet- iinnuated, debauched wretches, whom he procured to prepare those young innocent creatures ; and tliis inhuman monster in iniquity and his wife, made it their chief care to debauch their youthful minds by every means in their power. By. unchaste looks, loose gestures, and lewd talk, let in defilement to the inward part. The soul grows clotted b)' contagion. Embodies and imbrutes, till she quite lose The properties of her first being. mjlton's co.mus. Some of those girls, whose parents or guardian5 lived at too great a distance to be made acquainted with the dreadful recital, were actually confined in rooms, and nearly starved into a compliance with this miscreant's own brutal passion. I know not how long those horrid transactions were continued j however, at last the neighbouring town had some notice of what was going on at this school, and tlie villain, as he drov6 through in his gig, was hooted. Soon after, some of these half-starved girls escaped from their confinement, and ran into the to\\'n and related their shocking tale ! so that the mob got about the school, and would have pulled down the house had not the children been removed. • Villain ! O deceitful wretch ! Couldst thou consent to wrong such innocence ? Whose form and voice divine. Could charm a tyger to forget his prey ; Inhuman villain l Davy's love and ambition. I do not mean to insinuate that there are many such schools as this j yet, I have good reason to be- lieve that girls are often corrupted even in those which are, upon the whole, well conducted. I was informed some years since, tliat obscene books tiiid their way into those seminaries, sometimes by- means 210 ON THE EDUCATION OY DAUGHTERS. means of servant girls belonging to the schools ; Jeu's have also been known to fasten them to strings let down from cllamber-^^ indows, &c.* Daring the recesses the girls are often con-upted by tlie abandoned servant maids that now get into most houses. When the children return to their diilerent schools after the holidays, what each lieard, or has learned during the vacation, is com- municated to the rest. If the school be large, it is ten to one but some of the girls have overheard lewd hints, or discovered something improper, cither in the servants, or their brothers, or book.s, which they have communicated the first opportunity to their schoolfellows. I could add much more on tiiis head from authentic sources. To such as have investigated the different sources of the increasing corruptions among the fair sex, it is well known that many, very many> of tliose unhappy females that are now sunk so deep in vice and infamy, and the worst degree of mi- sery, had their pure minds first tainted at Boarding- JScIiools. Thousands also of tliose poor miserable beings just mentioned, who are hourly blaspheming their God, and cursing their own wretched existence, might possibly have escaped from those schools of vice with tlieir minds uncontaminated by the taint of lewdness ; yet, it is hardly possible that they sJiould avoid pride and extravagance. This epide- mic contagion rages in all those seminaries. Lewdness has destroyed its thousands 3 pride and extravagance its tens of thousands. ** Hence beauteous wretches, (beauty's foul disgrace !) ** Tho' born the pride, the shame of human race ; " Fair * By a late trial it appeared, that obscene pictures were haw- ked from school to school, and that the governesses of schools were some of them purchasers. This letter was wrote six months before that trial. I think it is ten yqara since 1 wr.s informed of the practice hinted at above. ON THE EDUCATION OF DAUGHTERS. 2] 1 '* Fair wretches hence, who nightly streets annoy, " Live but theinsehes and others to destroy." iSi'ever were there so many batchelors in every part of the uuited kingdom as at present j every rank of females are so infected with idleness, pride, extravagance, and the love of dissipation, that many men, even in the higher circles^ and thousands in the middle ranks of society, are really afraid to marry, le?>t their wives by their liiuughtless, careless, dissipated turn of mind j their io\e of shew, and expence in dress and ornaments, &c. and tlieir neglect of domestic concerns, should reduce them to a state of beg- gary. There are thousands of men who have souls formed to enjoy the tender, endearing, and de- lightful sensations that are only to be found in domestic society j who, being induced to forego what constitutes man's chiefest temporal hap- piness, console themselves for this immense loss, by madly flying to the arms of prostitution and disease. May not many of those cases of disgrace and informing, that for some years have been so often brought into our civil courts, be traced to this source ? I think noticing can be more evi- dent. Every one is struck with the surprising contrast between the manners, way of life, Szc. of ancient and modern ladies. Solomon in characterizing an harlot, says. Her feet abide not in her oivn house, St. Paul says, IFomen should be keepers at hovie ; but it has been remarked by some one, that if a lady now happens to be at home one evening, it is so uncommon a circumstance, that she sends notice of the extraordinary event to all her ac- quaintance. In Solomon's days the ladies used to rise in the morning before our ladies go to bed. I cannot help transcribing a few lines from his description of a valuable wife, as a contrast to our modern -212 ONT THE EDUCATION Of DAUGfHTKK5. modern ladies. 7'he heart of her husl-and doth safely trust in her. — She will do him good all the days of her life. — She riseth while it is yet 7iight, and giueih meat to her household, and a portion to her 771 aide ns.'—- She girdeth her loins ivith strength ^ and strevgtheneth her arms. — She laypth her handJf to the spindk, and her hands to hold the ^w/«^.— . She mafketh fine linen and selleth ii, — She consider- eth a field and huyeth it, tenth the fncit of her hands. — She planteth a vineyard. — Strength and honor are her clothing ; ami she shall rejoice in time to come. — She openeth her mouth tvith ivisdom ; and in her tongue is the law of kindness. She look- eth well to the ways of her household, and eateth not the Iread of idleness. — Her children rise up and call her blessed ; her husband also praiscth her. Euripides in his Troades makes Andromacht say, . Once the wife Of noble Hector, and by all admir'd, With cheerful heart I practis'd every viriue Peculiar to my station and my sex. Which gave a dignity to private life ; And in my husband's absence never left His house, pursuing vain amusements, Tlie bane and ruin of a female mind ; But spent my time at home, nor did I listen To idle impertinent dii>course ; But by submissive silence, gentle looks, Obliging manners, and endearing charms Of msek-ey'd modesty. I won his heart : Long time mosi happily with him I livM, Both giving and receiving daily proof Of pure affection and sincere regard. banister. Nqw dissipation drives her whirling car In courts to shine, or flaunt in masquerade ; Her blazing torches glitter from afar, And pour meridian day on midnight shade, MAURICE. Your's, INDEX. INDKX. •»#••#••• Page AUTI lOR marries a novel reader, &:c. - - 1 neglects the means of grace, &c. - 2 Atheist converted by a single word - - - 37 Author's progress in infidelity, &c. " - - 41 . his first steps towards his conversion to Christ'anity 31 Altamont's death, a dreadful scene - - - 63 Atheists will pretend to be religious, anecdotes, &c. - 83 Addison, a quotation from, on heaven - - - 118 Authors often charged with extortion - - - 131 Author's much benefited by the Methodists through life 179 Addison, a quotation from, on the effects produced by devotion ------ 164 Author on recollecting what he has done against gospel truths - - - - - - 185 Ancitnt and modern ladies - - - - 211 Buncle, memoirs ofj a very pernicious wor^c - - 4 Bible given up by the Author - - - -5 Boyd's Summary of the Platoaic doctrine of the Future State, quotations from - - - -23 Books in defence of Christianit/ - - - 35 Bible used only when a child was born - - 1O8 Books, many are published too dear - - - 131 Butler's Analogy assisted the Author, quotation from -* 133 Believe we must much more than we can understand - 134 Books given away and lent to the poor by the Author - 163 Baxter, the extraordinary eflects by his ministry in Kid- derminster - - - - -171 fioarding-Schools, bad consequences of to daughters - 199 Batchelor's reason why so many remain such - - 21 1 Boarding-School, shocking account of one - ' - 208 Clergy, a quotation in favor of - - - - 70 •Church, why some go there - ^ - - 87 Cicero's opinion of heaven - - - - 116 , quotation from on the Soul's immortality - ^^8 Cotton, verses of his on slander - - - 149 Christian, dying versCs on - - - - 1^1 Conviction of sin as taught by the Methodists, the same as that taught by the Church of England and Scripture 1 87 Gluss-meeting, the origin and the good eifccts of - 193 tNDEX. Dni's Mr. mentioned - - - - 'i Dick Th fifty's fall and progi^ss in infidelity - - 9 falls into vice, \c. - - - 1 1 Deathbed of a good ma«, from Young - - - C8 Dick Thrifty, a visit to, his sentiments arc changed, &:c. 70 Dreams pro\e the Soul hmmortal - - - 125 Freethinking Lady, a quotation from - - - g-2 Farmer's wife on her deatlibed, an odd story - - 1 1 1 Fletcher mentioned, &c. - - - - 171 Falling from grace, its dreadful efTccts - - I86 Farmers' daughters educated at Boarding-Schools despise their parents ----- 394 Grocer, a strange anecdote of one - - - 83 Gilpin, a quotation from him proving that all such as live immoral livts arc intidcls - -, - g^ , a quotation from, against a deathbed repentance, &c. 86 - on the atonement - - J35 <.^yn, Dr. quotation froni^ on a fumre state - - I87 <)ood parson - - - - - 154 God's power manifested among the Methodists - 169 Girls debauched at a boarding-school - 206,207 Horse and GrQjm expositors - - - - 3 Heaven would be a hell were all to go there who feel a litde remorse - - - - - 24 Hurdis, a quotation from, censured - - - 26 Home (Bishop), quotation from, on men** inconsistency 46 quotation from, on cheerfulness - - 72 Hall, a quotation from his sermon on the good effects of believing in a future state - - - 80 Heaven, various descriptions of - - - 112 J leaven only wished for by some to avoid hell - - 1 1 1 Hurdis, quotation from on the Soul's inmiortality - 128 — — — , a quotation from against boarding-schools - 2 06 Jnfidels, the author became acquainted with some - 5 y short address to - - * - b The Author becomes one - - - - 7 Jack Jolly, a letter to him in 1799 - - - 16 Indians happy if they can die with a cow*s tail in their hand, deathbed repentance, but a cow*s tail in our hand - - - - - - 24 Jenkin's Reasonableness of Christianity praised - 35 Infidelity, its effects on the Author's acquaintance 43, 59 Infidels on their deathbed dreadful - - 61,68 infidelity, its effects in the country - . - 76 Infidels, twelve in one shop, their design to commit murder - - • - - 79 JackJolly, an atheist, account of - - 94 to 103 ImmortaUty of the Soul - - - 124 to 129 INUEX. Pas. -icnkin'.s RcasOniil)Ienes<; of Chris^tianity assisted tl.e Autiior ibj Johnson's (Dr.) opinion of Mr. Wesley's conversation 155 Internal evidences of Christianity - - - ISN Idle hfe a miserable stare - - - - 20i l^dy tempts ana falsely accuses Dick Thrifty - 13 Letter on, a deathbed re) eMflnce,&c. - - l<) Letter to J. B. an infidel - - - - 5^ to J. B. afrer hs conversion to Christianity - a*? Lndy who wisliod often tliat she had no soul - - 104 Ladv's parerit and ft.rnily all i^Horant - - 108 liidy did not like to go to heaven - - -ill Leibnitz, quoiation fern - - - 13d Methodists, rhe Auihor think-; he did wrong in v»Titing ag:ain^': them - - - - - 137 Methodist Preacher preaches on A lveston-D(v\Ti - 176 Method'sts aie f:ir from being an ignorant people - isi Nelson, John, by his preaching rctornied nK)ie sinners than uere ever refoimed by all the moral lecturers in the world - - - - - 18-2 Old ma.ds, \\'hy there are so many . - _ 200 Plato's ideas of .he necessity of repentance - - 22 Placid, a jarttCted by Dick Thrifty - - - 73 Poor man's strange notion of God and his soul - lou I'loughman had poor ideas of heaven - * 1 10 I'aley's Evidences convinced and made a convert of J. L. 131 Parr, Dr. quotation from on superstition and atheism - 144 Persons near death will not be told of their danger - 192 Rousseau, a quotation from on the good cttiscts of religion, and the pernicious efTects of infidelity - - i3g Religious Tract Society - - - -164 Scx»tt's Christian Life mentioned - - - 23 Shaftesbury, ijuotations from ori loving God and virtue • merely for their own sake - - - 48 Scott, a quotation from on heaven - - - 120 Sick-beds, poor-houses, and prisons visited by the Me- thodists - - - > - - 190 Tom Thoughtless, an infidel, letters to, against infide- lity, &c. - - - . . 54 Trinity, a quotation on , - . . 134 Voltaire, a quotation from against atheism - - 82 Wilson (Bishop), quotation from on women - - J4 "Writers of plays and novels, by insinuating the efficacy of a little remorse are vile characters - - 22 Walpolc, lines from on deathbed repentance - - 24 Wesley, a famous quotation from - - - 4 1 Wicked Christians confirm infidels - - - 46 Wicked Christians are real unbelievers - - 84 Wesley, two letters falsely ascribed to him - - 14S INDEX. We$ley*$ happy death - - - - 151 ' his unbounde. A:^ ^-M /?>. ^ ' \\ < ^ I' .-^\.-' "^' .•^i % rS nmefi (fxrniitie;? ' ■ ' 3- h •> J-'