attempts to get over this by observing, that though the divine Persons whom they represent could not without absurdity be represented in the character of worshippers, their symbols might: but this is to me utterly unintelligible. He is evidently much embarrassed with the four faces; a most unlikely symbol of a Trinity. I am equally dissatisfied with his notion of the three elements of air, light, and fire being intended as natural types and symbols of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. For this there appears to me not a shadow of proof. The metaphors of Scripture afford none whatever; as is evident from this one consideration, that the figurative language of Scripture is interpreted as naturally and as easily without the aid of the Hutchinsonian hypothesis as with it. What is that sort of typical instruction which never instructed? And where is the people to be found, where the individual, who learned the doctrine of the Trinity from the works of nature? I cannot suppose it would ever have suggested itself to a single mind, had it not been communicated, probably, among the earliest revelations of God. My utter despair of deriving any solid benefit from these speculations must plead my excuse for not occupying my attention in any attempt to investigate the merits of the system more closely; and I am truly concerned to hear that Mr. B. designs to write upon the subject. I am afraid it will have no other effect than to strengthen existing prejudices against evangelical doctrine. I am, dear Sir, with much esteem, ROBERT HALL. LXIX. TO THE REV. IN REPLY TO A REQUEST TO WRITE A REVIEW. My dear Friend, Leicester, Nov. 16, 1823. You have put me on a most irksome task; and were the request to come from almost any other quarter, I should refuse to comply without a moment's hesitation. I find it difficult to deny you any thing; but, really, you could scarcely have proposed any thing to me more disagreeable. I think very highly of your son's publication; so that my objections arise in no degree from that quarter. But, in the first place, I am far from being satisfied of the propriety of suffering the sentiments of private friendship to prevail in a review. A reviewer professes to be a literary judge; and his sentence ought to be as unbiassed as that of any magistrate whatever. But what should we think of a judge who permitted himself to be tampered with by either party concerned, with a view to procure a favourable decision? In the exercise of his censorial office, a reviewer ought to have neither friends nor enemies. It is an adherence to this maxim which can alone secure the dignified impartiality of criticism, or entitle it to the smallest degree of credit. A work like your son's does not need artificial support; and one of an opposite description does not deserve it. son should rest calmly on his own merits, with a becoming confidence that an enlightened public will not fail to do him justice. There was never a period in my life when I would have stooped to solicit a review. I speak on the supposition of the application originating with him. Your In the next place, when it is known I have complied in this instance, I shall be harassed with innumerable applications. -, in particular, will have the justest reason to complain: for he has at different times most vehemently importuned me to review particular works, which I have steadily refused; and the only method I have found to shield myself from his importunities has been to renounce reviewing altogether. I think it probable he would not admit my review; I am sure he ought not, for the reasons I have assigned, and I have laid him under no such obligation as to induce him to depart from the straight-forward path. I do not suppose I could bring myself to speak higher of the work than an impartial reader would do; and what advantage, then, could be derived from my reviewing it? But supposing I did, where would be the justice to the public? You perceive, my dear friend, the difficulties which surround me, and the reasons why, in my humble opinion, the interference of friendship should not be allowed in such cases. I write altogether in the dark. You have not informed me in what Review you would wish me to write; nor do I know whether it has been reviewed already. I am not at all in the habit of reading either the Eclectic or any other Review: indeed, I wish the whole tribe could be put an end to. * LXX. TO MR. J. E. RYLAND. (EXTRACT.) Leicester, 1824. * * * I cannot write but upon some specified subject; and that subject must be something which suggests itself spontaneously to my thoughts. I feel an insuperable repugnance to the bending of my mind to the suggestion of others: it must be free as air, or I cannot move to any purpose: whatever I write must originate entirely with myself. Though I have no objection to gaining money, yet my love of it is not sufficiently strong for it to have any sensible influence in directing my literary exertions. There are several subjects, which I have revolved in my mind, to which I feel a decided preference; and if I present myself to the public at all, it must be in the discussion of these. As to Pascal, few admire him more than myself: but, in writing an introduction, I should feel myself quite out at sea; I should float without any determinate direction; my mind would have no determinate object; and, not having a distinct idea of what I wished to do, I should do nothing to any purpose. For elegant and specious declamation, I have no sort of talent. I must have a brief; I must have something like a fixed thesis, some proposition I wish to establish or illustrate, or I feel perfectly cold and indifferent. For my part, I let every man pursue his own plans: how it is that I am doomed to be the perpetual object of advice, admonition, expostulation, &c. &c., as a writer, I know not. I am sure it does not arise from any proofs I have given of superior docility. I know myself so well as to be distinctly aware that importunities of this kind have always the effect of indisposing me to their object. I should have written more had I been urged less; and when the public cease to dictate to me, I shall feel myself my own master. LXXI. TO MRS. LANGDON. ON THE DEATH OF HER HUSBAND. My dear Madam, Leicester, Oct. 23, 1824. The melancholy intelligence of the death of dear Mr. Langdon has deeply affected me; and most happy should I deem myself were it in my power to administer effectual consolation under such a stroke. I refrained from addressing you immediately, waiting for the first transports of grief to subside; because I well know that premature attempts to console only irritate the sorrows they are meant to heal. Let me indulge the hope, that by this time reason and religion are come to your aid, and that you are prepared to say, with the greatest and most illustrious of sufferers, "Even so, Father; for so it seemeth good in thy sight." The remarkable combination of the most lovely qualities with the most fervent piety, which distinguished the character of our dear friend, while they enhance the sense of your loss, will, I hope, mitigate its bitterness in another view, by assuring you that "great is his reward in heaven." Death to him is, undoubtedly, "exceeding great gain;" nor would you, in your best moments, wish to draw him down from his elevated abode, to this vale of sorrow and affliction. The stroke was not entirely sudden and unexpected: a long series of attacks and infirmities must, no doubt, have contributed to familiarize your mind to the event. Remember, my dear madam, that the separation is but for a season; our dear friend is not lost, but preferred to an infinitely higher state, where he is awaiting your arrival. To me his removal will long be a source of deep regret; for where shall I find a friend equally amiable, tender, and constant ?* I beg to be most affectionately remembered to each of your dear children, earnestly praying that their father's God may be their God. Wishing and praying that you may be favoured with the richest consolations of religion, I remain, my dearest Madam, LXXII. ROBERT HALL. TO J. B. WILLIAMS, ESQ., SHREWSBURY. Dear Sir, Leicester, March 29, 1825. Some apology is necessary for not having sooner acknowledged your very kind present of your new and highly improved edition of the admirable Philip Henry, whom you have the honour, I find, of enumerating among your ancestors. It is a descent with which you have more reason to be satisfied than if you could trace your pedigree from the Plantagenets. I waited only until I had time to renew my acquaintance with the Life of that amiable man, and to form an estimate of the improvements it has derived from diligent researches. I have not yet entirely completed the volume; but I am now busy in doing so, and have read enough to satisfy myself of the great obligations you have conferred on the public by this excellent work. The additional documents and letters by which you have enriched and enlarged the original narrative, constitute a treasure of wisdom and piety, for which you are entitled to the warm acknowledgments of every Christian reader, and especially of every dissenter. May a double portion of his spirit descend on the rising generation of ministers! The labour and research requisite for furnishing such a repast must have been great; but not more so, I dare say, than the pleasure you derived from the consciousness of conferring so important a benefit on the public. Permit me to thank you, most sincerely, for the favour you have done me by the bestowment of so valuable a present. It were highly desirable that more such biographies of the illustrious dead, improved and enlarged as this, might be given to the public: if it had no other fruit than to withdraw their attention a little from that farrago of periodical trifles, by which the public mind is dissipated, and its taste corrupted. I remain, dear Sir, Your highly obliged Friend and Servant, Mr. Langdon and Mr. Hall had been fellow-students at Bristol; and ever after cherished for each other the warmest esteem and affection.-ED. LXXIII. TO MR. J. E. RYLAND. My dear Sir, Leicester, May 21, 1825. I am extremely concerned to hear the melancholy account your letter contains of the situation of your dear and honoured father, at the same time that I feel grateful to you for the communication. I had heard previously that he was supposed to be in a declining state; but, little imagining he was so ill, your letter gave me a violent shock. With God all things are possible; and who can tell but the Lord may yet raise him up, and assign him more work to do before he is taken to his eternal reward? It is my earnest wish and prayer that such may be the result. His loss will be most deeply felt, not only by his afflicted family, but by a very numerous circle of friends, and by the church of God at large. For himself, all is and will be well; nothing can possibly befall him but what will be highly to his advantage. A man of a more eminently holy and devoted spirit than that of your dear father it has never been my lot to witness, and very, very few who made any approach to him. I feel, in the prospect of his removal, much for the family, the academy, and the church. You, my dear sir, together with your very excellent mother and sisters, will be the objects of a deep and extensive sympathy: but God, whose ways, though mysterious, are always gracious and merciful towards them that fear him, will, I doubt not, sustain and support you under this afflicting stroke, and cause it afterward to work the peaceable fruits of righteousness. His prayers will draw down innumerable blessings on those who were nearest and dearest to him; for who can doubt that the prayers of such a man must avail much? The impression of his example and the memory of his virtues will suggest a most powerful motive to constancy, patience, and perseverance in the ways of God. You will never cease to bless God for having bestowed upon you such a parent. His humility, meekness, tenderness, devotedness to God, and zeal for the interests of truth and holiness, will long endear him to the Christian world, and make his name like the odour of precious ointment. What, in the event of your dear father's removal, will become of the academy and the church; I tremble to think of the consequences: never, surely, could he have been spared with more serious injury to the most important interests! May the eyes of all of us be [turned] to God for his direction and blessing! I should have written to your dear father himself, but feared it might agitate and disturb him. I beg you to remember me to him in the most earnest, respectful, and affectionate terms, and assure him of a deep interest in my feeble prayers. I beg, also, to be most affectionately remembered to your dear mother, sisters, and every part of the family. That the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob dear father under the cover of his wings,—and take may your |
