1843–1846
“Dalblaie House, 8th Sept. 1843,
Ayrshire (Mr. Gillespie’s).
“A MONTH of recreation is ending, and it has served the purpose for which I sought it. I feel stronger in body; and the time has passed, on the whole, pleasantly. Here I have experienced remarkable kindness from Mrs. Gillespie; and a few days spent at Dunoon Castle passed most pleasantly in the society of Mrs. Eglinton and her sister, — one in whom religion wears its loveliest form, and breathes its sweetest spirit. The mercies of this sojourn in Scotland are —
“1. Increase of strength.
“2. Kindness of friends, Mr. Buchanan, Mrs. Gillespie, Mrs. Eglinton. In this respect no minister is perhaps so favoured. How many homes I have, — besides the above, Willenhall, Mr. Hamilton’s, Walthamstow, now Clapton, and my uncle’s, Mr. Alexander Hamilton’s house, the whole summer at Kentishtown.
“3. Edifying society — Dr. Mackay, Miss Low, Stevenson, Mrs. Wodrow, Mr. Landsborough.
“Had my brother Andrew with me; and met William,
•DR. GUTHRIE INVITED TO LONDON. 235
wbo has now got a unanimous call to the Free Church of Stonehouse, and labours with much acceptance. Besides preaching at Stonehouse and Dunoon, and writing two papers on the Dismption for America and some letters, etc., have done no work.
Eesolijtions.
“1. Avoid frivolity. Tell no undignified anecdotes, and engage in no conversation unworthy of a minister.
“2. Give this winter to Regent Square. Form as few extrinsic engagements as possible.
“3. Be the minister — the ambassador for Christ whereever I go.”
“7 Lansdowne Place, Oct. 13, 1843. “Iv dear Mr. Hamilton, — Since I heard the news of Wednesday morning, I, like yourself and others, have felt exceedingly disheartened in regard to further proceedings for the extension of our cause in London, so much so that I have not finished the prospectus of the newspaper. Whether these discouragements are an intimation of God’s providential will, or whether they be temptations of the Adversary, permitted to try our faith and patience, I cannot at this moment say. From what Mr. Burns’s sister said to my mother, I should think it easy to prevail on Mr. Guthrie to come to London. If he, or such as he, were here, it would be worth while proceeding with the newspaper, church extension, etc.; and perhaps it might be worth while at to-morrow’s meeting to consider if a strong application should not be made to him directly. He knows London and our case, and his answer would perhaps throw light on our future course of duty. Something should be done to bring the matter to a bearing, for unless we are to get one or two first-rate ministers from Scotland, all further labour in the cause of the Free Church in London will be labour thrown away. Mr. Guthrie in London, would be a mine of wealth to our friends in the north for the next two or three years, and would be the cheapest and most effective deputation they could send to England.”
The reference here is to Dr. Guthrie of Edinburgh. An effort was made at that time to induce him to settle in London. At various periods strong appeals were made to the Free Church to send some of her experienced ministers to the metropolis. They were never to any great extent successful. Whether in this matter the church in Scotland acted wisely it would be dif&cult to determine. The reasons were strong on both sides. The ablest ministers were greatly needed in the south; but they were greatly needed too at home. Some think the Presbyterian Church would have strengthened herself by striking more boldly out; others believe she did better by fully manning the centre in Scotland. The Assembly did not feel itself strong enough to take the decision into its own hand; and, in most cases, when the responsibility was left with the minister who received the call, he was obliged, in want of commanding reasons for removal, to decide in favour of the sphere which he already occupied.
About this time, however, a young minister of great talent was induced to accept a metropolitan charge in Marylebone, Mr. William Chalmers, minister of Dailly, in Ayrshire. After serving the cause for five-and-twenty years as minister of a congregation, he now fills a chair in the theological college of the English Presbyterian Church.
TO REV. A. BONAR, COLLAGE.
“7 Lansdowne Place, Nov. 1, 1843.
“My dear Brother, — This is the week of our Regent Square Communion, and so many recollections of Robert M’Cheyne are called up by the return of this season, that I find it easier to fulfil your old request, and set down anything I can remember, than to do aught else at present. The first time I saw him was when a student at Edinburgh, about six years ago. He preached in St. Luke’s, on the morning of a sacramental Fast, but I remember nothing of the sermon except his quoting that saying of one of our worthies: — ‘Lord, stay Thy hand, for Thy puir servant is but an earthen vessel, and can hold no more.* I did not like his voice; for, before I knew himself, I thought its r’ow and almost singing cadence, affectation, and besides I was too cold-hearted to have much relish for what he said. He himself did not like to preach in Edinburgh. He thought it the most ’ decent’ town in the kingdom, and therefore one on which it was difiicult to produce much impression. Next winter, when excessive work had weakened his health and laid him aside, I met him once or twice at Dr. Candlish’s; and it was there I began to love him. When he returned from Palestine to St. Peter’s, on the 5th Nov. 1839, along with Robert Macdonald, and one or two others, I was present, and heard his address to the multitudinous assembly which crowded his church that evening. His subject was 1 Cor, ii. 1-5. Some were disappointed that he did not say a word about his pilgrimage to the Holy Land. But his great anxiety was that his people would turn their faces Zionwards; and not knowing how long his present convalescence might last he was the more urgent. His discourse had the desired result in the case of at least one hearer, who had withstood all the singular influences of the preceding revival, but who that night began to flee from the wrath to come. When the congregation dismissed, the street was so crow ded with people pressing round him to get a grasp of his hand, that, weak as he was at any rate, he was nearly exhausted before we dragged him through to his own house. After this I remained at Abernyte twelve months, and saw him very often....
“It was pleasant to preach in St. Peter’s Church. The children on the pulpit stairs, the prayers in the vestry, the solemn and often crowded auditory, the sincerity of all the worship, and the often-felt presence of God, made it like few other sanctuaries. It was only on week- evenings that I was ever there, but perhaps they were more remarkable than even the Sabbaths. In one of his notes Mr. M’Cheyne says, — ‘The Thursday meetings are dear to me. They will doubtless be remembered in eternity with songs of praise.’ One reason for the peculiar blessing which rested on them was the happy freedom which they gave the minister. He could then descend from the stateliness of sermons to the most familiar and affectionate and varied addresses; and as members of other congregations could attend them, the benefit was widely diffused. So sensible was Mr. M’Cheyne of the special presence of the Spirit in his ministry in St. Peter’s, that I remember, when leaving Abernyte, he said to me, ‘I would beg my bread to get preaching in Dundee.’ Notwithstanding this his ministry had its trials. The greatest of these was the carnality of Christians, ’ some saying, I am of Paul, and others, I of ApoUos.’ On his return from Palestine, he found many for whom he had formerly longed in the bowels of Christ awakened or brought to Christ by the messages of that dear brother who supplied his absence. These almost deprecated an event which would supersede the man who who had been to them as an angel of God, and they scarcely concealed their disappointment at their own pastor’s arrival However, through the meekness and magnanimity afforded to himself and Mr. Burns, the trial passed away. Once that we were speaking of idols, he said, ‘My congregation was my idol, I used to think that there was no people like them in the world. But what happened after my return has made me see that I must seek other souls besides those in St. Peter’s.’ He was with us at this time last year.”...
“London, Feb. 5, 1844.
“My deae William, — Yesterday was our father’s birthday; and next April it will be twenty years since he made his only pilgrimage to London. It is rather remarkable that this year I should be engaged to preach three of the anniversary sermons — for the London Missionary, the Wesleyan Missionary, and the Christian Instruction Societies. At that time we were little shavers, floating our cocoa-sliell boats in the burn below the bridge; readincT a good deal witbal, but little dreaming where we should
be tills day.
“Nothing in your letter delighted me more than your affection for your people. Without this there can be no eminent success. I never felt more love to my people as a people than yesterday. I had a great desire to give myseK entirely to them; to the cultivation of their friendship, and pastoral labours among them. We really abound in interesting members. But, alas! my sighs after pastoral labour are very abortive. This week I abeady know of nine meetings of different sorts which I must attend. Then comes the deputation from Scotland; then public sermons and missionary meetings in Bristol and Manchester; then the May meetings, etc.
“There is one thing for which I long to get a little leisure. My impression is that I might be more useful with the pen than in preaching. I have the idea of two or three little publications, for which I have all the materials in some shape or other, but not the pubhshing shape. Nothing which I have written could be printed without my own revision; but some things are in such a state that a few days would make them readable.
“However, more especially since I have committed myself to a lecture on New Testament biography every Thursday evening, it is all I can do to prepare three discourses in the week, without ever looking back to what is over and gone. — Yours most affectionately,
“James Hamilton.”
TO REV. ANDREW BONAR.
“7 Lansdowne Place, April 13, 1844. “My dear Brother, — It was only on Wednesday night, returning from a week of preaching in Manchester, that I found the precious volumes awaiting me. They have occupied all my spare moments, and I fear some others, since I have had the Memoir. It was not possible for anything to be more truthful, or more edifying. The only thing which I felt wanting is that which no book can preserve, the atmosphere which used to fill St. Peter’s, and surround himself. Perhaps a little more might have been added to convey to the reader an idea of the Bethel- like sacredness of Sabbaths and communions in that church, as well as the peculiar impression of ‘God is here’ diffused around his person, and through his dwelHng. However, I am perhaps only wishing that his biographer could have made him rise from the dead, for the facts supphed could scarcely have been more minute and characteristic, or the delineation more feHcitous. And certainly the great end has been attained of teaching the reader where all his weU-springs lay. It will, I trust, be widely read in England, and is wonderfully fitted to quicken ministers. Truly the Lord has guided you with His eye. May you hear of many souls to whom it is made a blessing. — Yours with much affection, James Hamilton.”
“April U, 1844.-It is nine years this day since my dear father closed his ministry, and preached his last sermon.
“I was then a student in the first year of my theological
Q course, and felt very helpless and desolate when I found that I was really fatherless. The Lord took me up, and by a way which I knew not, from Strathblane by Easterhouse, Edinburgh, Abernyte, Eoxburgh Chapel, He has brought us here. Of how many mercies I could sing if mine were a singing heart; but the chiefest is that whilst the Lord has taken my dear father to Ms rest, I trust he has guided all of us who remain into that road which leads to it. I have the same persuasion regarding the two who are not. There was more than intelligence in Ehzabeth; more than sweetness in Mary. I believe there was the Spirit’s transforming work in both. I believe that our parents devoted all of us to God; and we can never be sufficiently grateful for our father’s fervent prayers, his occasional affecting exhortations, his wisdom, and, above all, his holy and elevated walk; our mother’s kind and careful upbringing, and our Aunt Elizabeth’s lovely exemphfication of the meek and quiet and gentle graces.
“I have been thinking seriously this afternoon of my position in the Church of Christ. I wish to ascertain, as far as the word and providence and the Spirit may give light, how I may most efficiently serve my blessed Master during the little time that I may continue here. I have some advantages for ministerial usefulness.
“1. An attached congregation, with many shining Christians, many congenial friends, and several liberal promoters of schemes of usefulness, among them.
“2. A kirk-session containing wise and devoted elders, and active willing- hearted deacons, — office-bearers to whom the people look up with affection and respect.
“3. Some miscellaneous information, which all ministers have not been able to acquire. Owing to the extent and variety of my father’s library, and having an hereditary taste for books, I read a great deal before I was hcensed. And as my father’s circumstances enabled me to give myself wholly to the business of college, without the distraction of private teaching, I got attending such classes as astronomy, natural history, botany, chemistry (twice), not included in the usual course. To which may be added some facility in writing, partly attained by early practice and partly by the abundant perusal of the classics, having read nearly all the pure Greek and Latin authors.
“4. The good-will of many ministers of different denominations, and the friendship of some of the most eminent.
“5. Owing to the circulation of the tracts, I find that my name is not unknown in many places where I have never been, and when I go to such places people are ready to come and hear me.
“6. The restraining grace of God has preserved my character. Had it not been for His preventing mercy I should have fallen into sins which must have proved for ever fatal to ministerial usefulness. No doubt people’s opinion regarding me will be very diverse, and my proud heart has sometimes been wounded by incidentally learning what others thought of me. Still, I record with trembling thankfulness that hitherto I have been kept from those outbreakings of sin into which some brethren whose hearts were no worse than mine have been suffered to fall, and some of them (I have reason to think) the children of God. It is also a mercy that the view of ecclesiastical polity which I had previously adopted was one which I did not need to change at the recent Disruption, for public consistency is no small part of ministerial character.
“7. I have no worldly cares. I am neither married nor engaged. I have my dear mother and sister taking charge of all household concerns. My mother’s income and my stipend, and the blessing of God, which has remarkably attended the former, secure us every comfort. We want for no good thing.
“These advantages I owe entirely to the grace of God. He gave me my father and my education. He brought me to Regent Square. He has put all the Idndness into the hearts of my beloved people. He enabled me i:o write the Church in the House and the Dew of Herman, and then found favour for them. And most especially. He has withheld me from those sins which, had I been left to myself, I should have committed, and which if I had committed, I should have been constrained to hide my head, instead of appearing in the pulpit as an ambassador of Christ.
“But seeing that the Lord has not only put me into the ministry, but given me these advantages for prosecuting it, the question is, — and this inquiry has prompted me to take up the pen, — how shall I employ these most effectually in His best and dearest service? The realization of my position has impressed me this afternoon with feelings of solemnity and responsibility. Truly there is an open door, and, if health and life be spared, something may be effected for the hallowing of the Father’s name, and the furtherance of Christ’s kingdom. What is it? In my situation, and with such talents as the Lord has intrusted to me, what is it that I can best do for carrying forward the great work which brought the Son of God from heaven to earth? My impression is, that one of the greatest services which could be rendered to the cause of Christ is the elevation of Christian, and especially of ministerial, character.
“I see plainly that few Christians are as happy in Christ and as fruitful as they might be. I am hopeful that a more elevated ministry and a more exemplary Church might have an unprecedented influence on a carelesp world. I am sure that in such a Church, and with such a ministry, the Father would be glorified.
“1. I must begin with myself. Oh that I were an exemplary Christian! Lord, give me a simple faith, a firm assurance, an outlooking eye ever fixed on the Lamb of God! riU me with the Spirit. Let the Word dwell in me richly, and shine through me conspicuously. Free me from the besetting sins hereafter enumerated. Lift me up to a new level of faith and fervour and devotedness, and let me never come down again.
“2. My own congregation. I will not resolve, but pray to see Regent Square a pattern church, full of lively, humble, self- spending, Christ-exalting, prayerful, and praising members.
“3. My brethren of the Presbytery and Synod. I have little availed myseK of their kindness, and our intercourse for high and God-glorifying ends; and occasional feeble efforts in that direction have been countervailed by num-
246 “the dew of hermon.”
berless incongruities. More might be done to make our body a blessing in the land. Judges vi. 15.
“4. The Church of Christ at large. By occasional sermons, publications, personal intercourse, something might be done towards reviving religion, and raising the standard of practical piety.”
The Dew of Hermon, a tract on Christian union, had been lately published. He could not but observe that it was widely circulated and greatly appreciated. Thereupon he gladly ascribes it to the grace of God that he was enabled to cast this contribution into the Lord’s treasury.
The conclusion of this tract, suggested by his own observation at the sea-side during a brief residence in the family of Mr. Gillespie, may be here represented as a specimen of the manner in which he was wont to trace the parallels between nature and grace: —
“We end as we began. Heaven is the abode of unity, and when the spirit of unity comes into a soul or into a church, it cometh from above. The Comforter brings it down. Discord is of the earth, or from beneath. The divisions of Christians show that there is still much carnality amongst them. The more carnal a Christian is, the more sectarian will he be; and the more spiritual he is, the more loving and forbearing and self-renouncing are you sure to find him. And it is with Christian communities as with individual Christians. When the tide is out, you may have noticed, as you rambled among the rocks, little pools with little fishes in them. To the shrimp in such a pool his foot-depth of salt water is all the ocean for the time being. He has no dealings with his neighbour shrimp in the adjacent pool, though it may be only a few inches of sand that divide them. But when the rising ocean begins to lip over the margin of his lurking-place, one pool joins another, their various tenants meet, and by-and-bye, in place of their little patch of standing water, they have the ocean’s boundless fields to roam in. When the tide is out — when religion is low — the faithful are to be found insulated, here a few and there a few, in the little standing pools that stud the beach, having no dealings with their neighbours of the adjoining pools, calling them Samaritans, and fancying that their own little communion includes all that are precious in God’s sight. They forget for a time that there is a vast and expansive ocean rising — every ripple, every reflux, brings it nearer — a mightier communion, even the communion of saints, which is to engulf all minor considerations, and to enable the fishes of all pools, the Christians, the Christ-lovers of all denominations, to come together. AVhen, like a flood, the Spirit flows into the churches, church will join to church, and saint will join to saint, and all will rejoice to find that if their little pools have perished it is not by the scorching summer’s drought, nor the casting in of earthly rubbish, but by the influx of that boundless sea whose glad waters touch eternity, and in whose ample depths the saints in heaven as well as the saints on earth have room enough to range. Yes, our churches are the standing pools along the beach, with just enough of their peculiar element to keep the few inmates living during this ebb-tide period of the church’s history. But they form a very little fellowship, the largest is but little; yet is there steadily flowing in a tide of universal life and love, which, as it lips in over the margin of the little pool, will stir its inhabitants with an unwonted vivacity, and then let them loose in the large range of the Spirit’s own communion. Happy church! furthest down upon the strand! nearest the rising ocean’s edge! Happy church! whose sectarianism shall firct be swept away in this inundation of love and joy! — whose communion shall first break forth into that purest and holiest, and yet most comprehensive of all communions — the communion of the Holy Ghost! Would to God that church were ours!”
It is well worthy of notice too, in connexion with the last extract from his journal, that after enumerating with great exactness the privileges he had enjoyed, the talents with which he had been intrusted, the resolution regarding duty which results from the survey, is to commend Christ not by his books, but by his life. Literary work is viewed as a secondary matter; the direct aim is a higher and holier walk. In this matter the promise, “Seek, and ye shall find,” was fulfilled in his experience. That which he ardently sought he did in some good measure attain. In his walk and conversation many read to their own profit, an epistle of Jesus Christ.
It may also be observed from this portion of his experience, for the reproof of a presumptuous indolence, that the habitual hopefulness and happiness that were exhibited in his character, and which seemed to flow naturally as a feature of his constitution, were graces which he gravely judged necessary in the Christian life — which, accordingly, he strove and prayed for, and so obtained.
“April 22, 1844. — On Monday last set out to attend our Synod at Berwick. On the railway employed with E. M-Qheyne’s Sermons, Brainerd’s Diary, and John xiv. A happy day.
“The Synod elected Dr. James Buchanan their Professor of Divinity, and sent Mr. W. Hamilton and me to Edinburgh to wait on him and sohcit his acceptance. That day, Wednesday, I was very ill, suffering much pain in back and left side, so glad to get away. Found Dr. B. was at Paisley. Followed him, and found that he had gone back to Edinburgh. Saw him on Friday, and satisfactory interview.
“Reached Birmingham at midnight of Saturday, stayed there all Sabbath. Heard Mr. Lorimer.”
“WlLLENHALL, JuJy 4, 1844.
“My dear William, — ... I very much fear lest this sort of life put an end to epistolary correspondence. Spending the last two days, and sometimes the last three days of the week at Willenhall, saves a good deal of uninterrupted time; and I find the leisurely dinner-hour and the quiet evening walk, and Mrs. Moore’s conversation and the children’s company, a restorative to mind and body. But as study in town is more and more out of the question, the time I am in this parlour is all spent in writing the sermon and lecture, especially the last. I have such delight in the Romans, and I much hope that these lectures may be influential, not merely on the theological views, but the spiritual position of many of the hearers, that though I could get a whole week to meditate one lecture, I would not think it too long. I am now at the tenth chapter, and hope to finish the eleventh, and so the doctrinal portion of the epistle, on or before the Communion Sabbath. To publish these lectures, as I have sometimes been asked to do, would be a very useless undertaking. But during some autumn holiday I may read them over, and mark the most interesting passages, and put them together in a connected form. ‘The righteousness of God’ has, I think, been put more palpably, T hope more scripturaUy, than I remember reading in any book. Besides, I have many occasional things to write. One week lately, besides Sabbath preparation, I wrote the pastoral letter of our English Synod, a short circular for our Board of Missions, a review of E. M’Cheyne for the Presbyterian Magazine, and an article for the Free Church Magazine. The materials for the last two were mostly ready beforehand, but the revision and re-writing took nearly as much pains as fresh composition. This sort of lmting incapacitates me for that delightful old-fashioned sort of letter which contained a journal of news and a budget of critical analecta, and a specimen of the whole man.”
At the close of this letter he has touched a point in which both the compiler and the readers of his biography have a deep interest. He casts a longing, lingering look after “the old-fashioned sort of letter” as a thing that must in the circumstances of modern society be left behind. As the change to which he alludes has a general bearing on the age, as well as a particular application to his own experience, it will be of use to note its causes and consequences.
From the date of his removal to London, his letters are not to so great an extent available for the elucidation of his character and work This is owing partly to causes that are public and common, partly to causes that are private and peculiar to himself. The change which took place about that period in the system of the Post-office, while it conferred, socially and commercially, an incalculable boon on the community, acted, I am persuaded, very injuriously on the character of our correspondence as to its weight and permanent value. At a time when you could not transmit a letter from one part of the country to another without paying from sixpence to a shilling of postage, people of limited income did not despatch one untn a pressing necessity arose: and when they did make up their minds to the sacrifice, they naturally desired to obtain a good pennyworth, and so put a great deal of matter into one epistle. After it became possible to send a letter to any part of the United Kingdom for a penny, people wrote on less urgent business, and, as they could send another to-morrow, did not exert themselves to freight fully the present messenger with the compressed essence of all their best ideas. Thus the cheapening of the postage exercised an evil influence on the value of letters as the permanent record of contemporary history and thought.
In our case this influence was greatly increased by the idiosyncrasies of the individual A vast quantity of miscellaneous business was thrown upon his hands. He undertook heroically all that by great exertion and great facility he was able to perform. Thus placed under highpressure, he threw off letters from week to week, and from year to year, in very great quantities. He seemed indeed to shed them as trees shed their leaves in autumn, but the necessary consequence was that comparatively few traces of his genius appear in the letters of those busy years. They bear marks, not indeed of hurry — for all are clearly legible and easily understood — but of pressure. Each missive tells its tale in the shortest space, and then gently closes, to make room for the next. You seldom see any symptom of leisure or repose. There is never the delicious outpouring of a gifted mind who has set himself to warble out his thoughts to you, with nothing else in hand or m view. His chosen sphere was a life of activity; from that choice the Church and the country have reaped substantial benefit; but the readers of his memoir need not expect to find in his private letters the best strength and beauty of his mind. It has been the duty of the biographer to read a great multitude of James Hamilton’s letters, each occupied wi’uh some plain practical work of benevolence, which do not claim, and would not justify, insertion in a public and permanent record. The impression left by the perusal of the mass enhances the estimate of the writer’s life, as a talent devoted with singular energy to the service of God and the good of man; but the individual letters, in that elegant and well-remembered handwriting, must for the most part be allowed, like the leaves of autumn, to drop undistinguished into the dust.
“WiLLENHALL, Sept. 6, 1844.
“My dear Mr. Hamilton, — Immediately on receiving yours to-day, I wrote a long letter to Dr. Hetherington, putting the case for London “Wall as strongly as I could, and enclosed it to Mr. Marshall, marking it ‘Private — to be forwarded.’ I have seldom been more surprised or dismayed at anything than at the threatened opposition to Mr. Nicolson’s translation. It is virtually sayirg that no minister, however inconspicuous his position, and however little the Church may need his services ecclesiastically, can be spared to English Presbyterianism. I told Dr. Hetherington that so disheartened were the London Wall people by the elopement of two successive ministers, and by the frustration hitherto of their efforts to obtain a pastor, that I was not sure but that the Free Church Presbytery of St. Andrews might have the power of shutting up the oldest Presbyterian Church in London.”
TO HIS SISTER.
“WiLLENHALL, Kov. 9, 1844.
“IMy dear Jeanie, — ... Our Communion was a delightful one. The text was out of William’s favourite book, the Song, v. 16, ‘This is my Beloved, and my Friend.’ Some careless hearers were much impressed, and I heard of one young man who, I hope, was truly awakened. He was an infidel, but brought out that morning by a friend, and so deeply affected that he stayed all the time, and on Monday evening took a seat for himself. I believe he had not been in church for years....
J. H.”
254 ORIGIN OF “LIFE IN EARNEST.”,
“WlLLENHALL, Dec. 7, 1844.
“My dear Jane, — ... I have revised for separate publication the Introductory Lecture. The misprintings of the Witness, rather than the fault of Mr. Jas. Stewart, the reporter, made this desirable, though there had been no other reason. Mrs. Moore showed me the other day two sermons in a Wesley an newspaper, purporting to be notes of two discourses of mine. The errors were so thickset, so ludicrous and nonsensical, that I could not get through a column; but the report, such as it is, confirmed my resolution to print six lectures on Rom. xii. 11, of which these formed two. They will likely come out in a small 18mo, and I mean to send a copy to each family of the congregation as a New- Year’s gift....
J. H.”
The lecture was introductory to a course on pastoral theology to the students of the English Presbyterian College. Loyally he had undertaken, in addition to his other labours, the temporary charge of this class, until the Church should succeed in obtaining a permanent professor.
The reader will observe with interest in this brief letter the natural history of Life in Earnest, one of the most popular and most useful of his publications. The substance of that book had been addressed to his own congregation in six lectures, in a course on the Epistle to the Komans. Two of these inadequately reported had appeared without his knowledge or sanction in a religious newspaper. The blunders grated so harshly on his senses that he determined, in self-defence, to publish the whole six. To protect himself against the incorrect representation was of course not the real reason, but became the incidental occasion of the pubHcation. The Church in this case has cause to rejoice over the blunders of an unskilful reporter, for the authorized version has done noble service in the work of the kingdom both at home and in America. The circulation was very great, and many notices of its usefulness occur in the course of his correspondence.
“January 1845. — During the year 1844 I preached 124 times, of which, I think, 57 occasions were not in Efgent Square, besides speaking at 6 public meetings (Exeter Hall and Manchester), and sundry breakfasts and soirees.
Preached 124 times.
Paid 492 visits.
Ileceived 1112 visitors.
Wrote 855 letters.
Studied 1254 hours.
Read 21 volumes, or 9010 pages. Attended Synod, Commission of Synod, 19 Presbyteries, 119 miscellaneous meetings and committees, etc., 20 kirk sessions, 78 meetings connected with congregation.
“Journeys. — To Edinburgh by Berwick; to Bristol; to Manchester; thrice to Brighton; to Ipswich, besides pleasure trips to Eyde, through Kent, to Brighton.
“Published. — Sermon on Thankfulness; sermon in pulpit; sermon in Free Church pulpit; Review of E. M’Cheyne in Preshyterian Review; two papers on Sacred Poets in Free Church Magazine; Life in Earnest; Lecture Introductory to Pastoral Theology; besides writing a
256 “life in earnest.”
Report on Free ChTircli Mission Schemes, a circular on India Missions, a Pastoral Letter for our Synod, a circular for Regent Square on first day of year, a Reply to John Munro in Patriot; Pastoral Letter to Abernyte (not printed).”
One of his projects, long entertained though never executed, was a companion to Life in Earnest, to consist of a series of discourses on the text “Whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest,” etc., Phil iv, 8, and entitled The Christian Gentleman. He frequently spoke of it with interest. One of its chief themes would have been “consideration for others,” which he reckoned a grace of the Spirit as well as a mark of politeness.
The earliest of all the congratulations on the publication of Life in Earnest, is the subjoined note from a naturalist, then employed in the British Museum, Mr. Adam White: —
“11 Southampton Row, Bloomsbury,
January 3, 1 845.
“My deak and much respected Sir, — Your little but weighty volume was handed to me last night at ten, and as soon as I was up this morning I galloped over its pages, which were familiar — familiar quite to my memory. Your admirable address is the only part I have read through as yet, because it is new.
“As a young professing Christian man, and member of a Christian church, allow me to thank you for publishing so admirable a series of tractates, and to express my hope that the Spirit from above may descend like the dew upon Hermon, and revive all deadness in the work given your congregation to do, be it spiritual, charitable, or temporal As a young naturalist, allow me to congratulate you on the extreme aptness and accuracy of your artless natural history illustrations, — illustrations, however, I assure you, when I heard them, which sent me, even during your sermon, to the Braid Hills and Salisbury Crags after the Scahiosasuccisa, and it was all I could do to keep myself from wandering to the shore of Arran, or the beach of the Tiggat Whins,’ — spots where, with the happy Landsborough family, or my brother and sisters, I used to watch or pick up the lovely Actiniae, and many a Sertularia, and rock- encrusting Lepraria; and, to make a long story short, permit me, my dear James Hamilton, — excuse the familiarity of one who has herbarized, and naturalists (like anglers in rare old Walton’s days) ought to be familiar, — permit me, I say, in the third and last place, to thank you for the presentation copy, which, as a lover of the curious, and a little bit of biblomaniasm, or rather authorism, into the bargain, I do most highly value. I heard from the Bard of Eydal Mount more than a week ago, and will, if spared, bring up his note on Monday, when I leave the Athenaeum. I wish you had mentioned Jay’s Life of Cornelius Winter, a book which, thanks to your uncle, my dearest wife has got a copy of. Of course you know it. May God long spare you in life, health, and ever increasing ability to proclaim His unspeakable and important gift to men, is the prayer of yours, most sincerely and respectfully,
“Adam White.”
258 HIS brother’s prospects.
“Jan. 10, 1845.
“My deak William, — It is a sad thing that I should so seldom take the pen to write you a full and deliberate letter. Though stronger than I have been for years, I am busier than I ever was; and though less fettered by occupations than I would once have been, I think that I am in a better state than ever to enjoy a little leisure. It would be a happy thing for us if we had the same buoyant look forward to the ‘rest which remaineth, which we sometimes have to an earthly holiday. There is one subject on which I have never written, not being officially apprised of it, but on which, now that I am so far in possession of it, I do not think it brotherly to withhold the congratulations which I really feel. I have not a sufficiently distinguishing recollection of the lady, who must have been very young when I spent a week divided betwixt botany and my bed at the manse of Arrochar seven summers ago, — but at the time I speak of there was enough beneath that roof to make it a hallowed, loving, and happy home. And to all that was sprightly and affectionate there, I have no doubt that Christina contributed her ample quota, though my misguided eye, in search of Alpine plants, overlooked a fairer flower. From your never having written on the subject, which must have been so often on your mind when meaner topics employed your pen, I suppose you were loath to submit it to my phlegmatic and unsympathizing judgment. If so, you quite miscalculated. I agree with Arnot, in thinking that marriage is one of the works of God which still remains very good; and though your engagement was an early one, I agree with Campbell, that there are ’ pleasures ’ in ’ hope.*... Towards Christina and all the rest I feel that they are the children of our father’s bosom-friend, — the daughters of that man of God whose melodious voice and beaming countenance are associated with each winter sacrament at Strathblane, and our one Eoxburgh communion. I suppose you will not delay the consummation long beyond the house-heating of the new manse. Happy as I am, having nearly all that the heart could wish (with, however, neither a wife nor the promise of one), I am sensibly the happier for the prospect of your joy. I hope that it will be for the good of Stonehouse, as well as of yourselves. I would have sent the £50 for your manse by this post, but I lent the sum to a friend six months ago, to be repaid at Christmas. He has asked a brief delay. I hope it will be brief. I have as much beside me, and something more, but I am afraid to part with it till I get my next quarter’s stipend, when I shall have enough and to spare. I have given away nearly £300 in these two years, and would have been very glad to have kept a little more of it for Stonehouse manse. J. H.”
“LoifDON, July 7, 1845.
“My deae Mamma, — ... Yesterday I finished the lectures on the Romans. It so happened that there was in church a gentleman who had received his first religious impressions whilst reading Life in Earnest on the Mediterranean Sea. It was very striking that he should arrive just in time to hear the last of the series. He is a medical man. ... J. H”
“WlLLENHALL, NoV. 27, 1 845.
“My deae Mamma, — Last night I lay from three o’clock till time for rising with many thoughts passing through my mind; and when you look to the date of this, you will not wonder that among these thoughts you should have been particularly present. The night before my eighth birthday I could scarcely sleep in the prospect of next morning beginning Latin, — a mysterious novelty, for I had no notion how a person could ever learn another language than his own. Twenty-three years have passed since then, sixteen of them in acquiring the said Latin and similar branches of knowledge, and seven of them in this great work of the ministry. They have been, on the whole, very happy years, particularly the last four at Glasgow College, and these last seven. Perhaps, on the whole, nobody has more to be thankful for than I at this moment have — health (for my cold, I hope, is gone) — abundance of friends — a competent income — some prospects which are very pleasant — a ministry with boundless opportunities, and the hope that in some respects it has already been useful — yourselves — Andrew so much happier this winter and you considerably better. And I cannot but remember that for the countless mercies of the present and the past, I am, next to the Giver of every good and perfect gift, indebted to you. I know that I was often in danger when too young to know what danger is, and in later years my only grief has been that in caring for us, as it now turns out, you have been too forgetful of yourself. But I quite believe that there are better things than bodily health which I owe to a mother’s love and a mother’s care. T know it, and I sometimes feel it, though even now I feel somewhat shy to say it. Though there is now another who has filled that place in my heart which till lately was vacant, I feel that I do not love my kind, and wise, and tender mother less, now that I am thirty-one, than I did when I was one-and-twenty, or haK the age. J. H.”
Another unsuccessful effort to obtain an experienced minister from Scotland for a vacant church in London: —
“Abernyte, Dec. 4, 1845.
“My dear Mr. Hamilton, — Before this you will likely have heard the frustration of our embassy. We all three stated the case as strongly as we could. There were nearly 100 of the Collace people there, with Mr. Nairne at their head. The speeches of a few of the country people were very touching, though, as Mr, !N“airne said, it was just as possible to move a mountain as a London deputation. Mr. Bonar, when called upon, said that his whole feeling at first was to go to London, but that prayerful deliberation had altered his mind. Good was still doing at Collace, and he was not at liberty to leave it. As soon as the Lord’s work there stood still, he would be glad to get away. He stated other reasons, and I am well aware that it was neither dislike to London nor the importunities of his people that prevailed with him, but just the solemn conviction that he ought not to quit his charge whilst his ministry continues to be so evidently owned by God. The Presbytery showed that they were mainly moved by affection for Mr. Bonar, and anxiety about their local interests. I am disappointed in a deeply cherished hope, but I feel that I love Andrew Bonar more than ever. I scarcely expect myself to see him in London, but should he, as from his greater strength is likely, outlive me, there is no one I can at present think of whom I should like so well to enter into my labours. In the way of early rising and travelling, I have sometimes felt tired, but am otherwise well. I was exceedingly delighted with Hawick congregation, — 1200 intelligent and manlylooking hearers.”
“Dec. 12, 1845. — This visit to Scotland has taken some worldly cares off my mind. Additional trustees appointed, and the little affairs of the family seen after. It was very delightful to find William’s full church and his affectionate auditory, and pleasant to see himseK and Clu-istina in their nice new manse.
“Employed two days looking over and preparing for the press a few lectures on prayer. This, when done, will be another thing off my mind.
“Failed in our errand, so far as getting A. Bonar to London. Could have departed from this world more lightened had he been here. He wished to come, but felt it his duty to remain. Having kept no record of the employments of this year, I can make no summary. My impression is that it was as busy as any, with fewer sermons away from home.
“Besides editing the first three numbers of Presbyterian Messenger, I printed Life of Bunyan, prefixed to Nelson’s edition, and Mount of Olives.”
The Mount of Olives, as a title of this volume, is not strictly descriptive: it is a name of convenience, taken from the subject of the first lecture. The nature of the little treatise is indicated in the secondary title, Lectures on Prayer. If it is less lively than its predecessor, it exhibits, as befits its theme, more of tenderness and solemnity. It has been received in all branches of the Evangelical Church with great favour, and has been the instrument of much good.^
Hastings, May 17, 1846.
“Perhaps it is only a cunning pretext for wishing to get well, but there is a scheme much in my head, and which, could I execute, I should feel that I had lived less in vain. It is a series, three or four small volumes, as plain, as popular, and as interesting as I could make them, on the most urgent topics.
“1. On the Evidences, making the proof palpable to the feeblest understanding, and conclusive (by the blessing of God) to the most faltering judgment, and above all, landing the reader not on the confines of Christianity, but in the very heart of the gospel.
“2. The Gospel, so simply stated that no earnest reader but should find himself in intelligent possession of the great ’ open secret.’
“3. Developed Christianity. The peculiarities of the Christian Life. Its duties, privileges, trials. Instances — E. M’Cheyne,” etc.
1 Both the Mount of Olives and Life in Earnest are contained in the first volume of his Collected Workai
26 i RESIDENCE AT EMS.
Here again he appears in character; he accomplished much, but he purposed more. The projects of his busy mind seemed like the blossom of some trees, — they came in myriads, while, from the limited capacity of the agent, only a few of them developed into actual fruit. If life and leisure had been gTanted to fill up the scheme here sketched, a rich legacy would have been left to the Church of Christ. The evidences, the nature, and the fruits of the gospel, exhibited and enforced by the genius and learning and faith of James Hamilton, might have been of eminent service to the generation following. But the matter was ordered otherwise. The blossoming desire was fragrant, but the winter came before it had developed into fruit.
This season a prolonged illness rendered necessary a prolonged rest. By medical advice he travelled for some time on the Continent, and used the waters of a German batL This was indeed with him the normal condition, life came in throbs of excessive exertion, followed by pauses of enforced repose.
TO HIS SISTER.
“Ems, prs Coblentz, July 10, 1846.” We are now in the regular routine of a German Spa. The system of it is as uniform as a clock. Get up at half-past five. Proceed to the Wells, and drink, at ten minutes’ intervals, two or three tumblers of the waters. These are hot, containing some carbonic acid and a few salts. Pace about till eight, when it is presumed that the last of the tumblers is digested; then breakfast. I should have noted iliat the said wells are a scene of the utmost iuvalid gaiety — sipping the Kessel to the music of a splendid Bohemian band; promenading in colonnades and gardens among German Grafs and Austrian Princesses — with Prussian and Polish counts furnished with moustaches much resembling the tusks of the walrus; the sort of
scene which turned the heads of the poor. In
one respect this spot is a pleasant exception to Germany. There is hardly any smoking, and my aromatic associations with the Rhine from Cologne to Mannheim are all of tobacco. Well, after breakfast read a little — the Times, and our own books. Then climb a little bit of a woody hill, and read Howitt’s Germany, to get a little acquainted with the country we are in. Then, one o’clock, a grand tabled’hdte, with nearly 200 of a congregation, and sometimes music to drown the clatter of the dishes. After dinner, I don’t know what we do, till six o’clock, when more water; then tea and bread without butter; and bed at nine o’clock. Having added that water-drinkers are allowed no fish, no fruit, no acid, no wine, I have completed the sketch of our animal existence here. The waters are in themselves so nutritious as not to need those vulgar adjuncts, and it is amazing how jolly some of our teetotallers have grown.”
“Ems, Germany, July 11, 1846.
“My VEEY DEAR Brother, — ... The same letter brings
word of uncle Walker’s death, and the extraordinary
sickness in Stonehouse. To our good old uncle I am con-Ment that this is a blessed transition. In his silent way.
he was continually cultivating a conscience void of offence toward God and toward man; and as Ms hope was on the right Foundation, so his life was singularly blameless. I think it was a happiness to him to spend his old age at Spittal; and his whole treatment of that little farm was a specimen of his scrupulous conscientiousness. This rapid removal of our older relatives is fast leaving us in the situation of those who must naturally go next. Nor is it likely that any of our family will attain the veteran years of our predecessors. One of the most gratifying things in this country is the state of education. Yesterday Mr, H. and I went to the village school. There were four school-rooms: one for boys and another for girls, under ten years of age; a third for boys, and a fourth for girls, from ten to fourteen, all taught by schoolmasters — Lutherans, Catholics, and Jews together. The school fees are Is. 4d. a year. Every child from six to fourteen is compelled to attend this or some other school, under a penalty of twopence a day, which, in this cheap country, does away the inducement of keeping them at home to work. They sing in parts most beautifully. On Sabbath morning we went to the Lutheran Church. They sang a hymn, twenty minutes long, everybody joining — the women down- stairs, the men in the gallery — music which could not be got in England. And what made the contrast more striking, was, on the dismissal of the German congregation, the English assembled, and though there were 120 of them, we had no psalm at all; nobody could raise a tune.”
“Ems, pris Coblentz, July 13, 1846.
“My dear Andrew, — ... The announcement of your great success came through James’s letter, whilst we were at breakfast, and awakened much joy and hearty felicitations. I quite expected that you would win the ItaKan prize, and therefore am the more gratified at your getting the geological. It is a little out of your usual line of things, and confirms my impression that the natural sciences are more suited to your talents than your taste. Few things have given me more pleasure than the prizes you won this year and the last. They are a solid benefit, and I trust that hereafter you will find the advantage of them. I am not so happy but that the account you give of your frequent feelings grieves me much. I do not think that it is excess of vitality that gives advantage to these feelings. Such gloom and depression are perhaps more natural to you than they would be to less pensive and wistful minds, but I am sure if you had evenly health, and a system in full tone, you would more easily overcome them. If not absolutely neutralized they might be diluted, and, as it were, drowned by redundant health and energy. And the best use you could make of this holiday would be to rest and ramble a good deal; and read, I think, as little as possible. Before I was quite grown up, I was the victim of most dreary and foreboding impressions. It was no one rational cause which awakened them — but anything — myself was full of the dreary element, and any subject was the nucleus round which it deposited itself, and shaped a tangible grief. But as my constitution gathered strength, and, I think I may add, as clearer views of the Divine benevolence, and brighter hopes broke in, those feelings passed away, I am not exempt from them now, but they do not hurt and oppress me, and blacken the face of things as they used to do. I anticipate the same for you, although, from my own analogy, I am sure you do not anticipate it for yourself. It would be curious if we could ascertain the comparative number of cases in which extreme mental susceptibility has been a source of prevailing and preponderating happiness or distress, I fear the gloomy scale would be the heaviest after you have put in Petrarch, Southey, Ovid, the dark years of Cowper, Mrs. Hemans, etc. (just now I am reading letters written with Stygian water — Foster’s.) There is, doubtless, a constitutional infusion which nothing can utterly expel, but many things might alleviate; and one of them is occupation distinct from that line of things in which the fancy is most disposed to travel Geology as a present study, and pastoral work as a future calling, will exert a good influence on a mind like yours. But I must stop, otherwise you will wish for a letter of facts. The tidings of Uncle Walker’s death, so soon after aunt of Langrig, is very solemnizing. These events are fast altering Stonehouse. Give my warmest love to mamma. The next (I hope early) letter, will, I trust, bring cheering accounts of her. I fear I wrote too querulously to Jane; but I really was uneasy and unhappy at being so long without hearing. “We have delightful weather, and are getting on nicely. — Ever, my dear Andrew, your very affectionate brother,
“James Hamilton.”
«’Ems, July 31, 1846. “IMy dear Jane, — ... I am sorry that we did not find out the delights of donley-riding before Mr. (William) and Mrs. Hamilton left us. We have now had three famous excursions in this way, and I intend another this afternoon. They are wonderful creatures for strength and sense and gentleness, — the Esel family at Ems. On Tuesday afternoon, along with Mr. Matheson, we all went to a hill about two miles distant, from which we had a splendid prospect down the Rhine as far as Bonn, round to the Vosges mountains in France, and back to the Taunus hills near Heidelberg. But it was not the prospect, but the progress to it. Every donkey is followed by a driver in a blue blouse and a scarlet cap, and ours entered into the spirit of the thing. Passing through a wood they descried another donkey party descending, and determined to have a shine, — they urged ours to the gallop. The rider has nothing for it but to stick hard and scour along. T. Matheson set up a shout which would have done credit to a wild Indian, and the opposite party were evidently dismayed, but before they could effect a retreat into the woods we were on them, and I came full tilt against an elderly French lady, and nearly swept her out of the saddle. Her looks of horror so diverted our company that they could scarcely hold on for laughing, and when we got to the hill top we all protested that we had never so much enjoyed a ride. But to tell the feats of the donkeys transcends the limits of a letter. We ambled away to a farmhouse yesterday morning on the top of a wooded hill, and besides a good breakfast got several new butterflies. The green net is nearly as Icenspeckle here as at Versailles, and yesterday it was edifying to see the tall donkey driver rushing through the dust and flailing at the scJimetterlinge, as they call them here. On Wednesday evening, a little before tea, an event occurred which has been quite an era at Ems, I had put out my candle, and was pulling the quilt about my shoulders, when I felt the bed hitch up. Of course I paused, thinking that some one was under it, and in so doing observed the bed, doors, and whole room shaking so violently, along with a heavy rumbhng noise, that the next thought which flashed into my mind was, ‘The poor gentleman next door is seized with a fearful fit,’ and a cold shudder crept over me. But I had hardly time to think this when I saw that it was an earthquake. I got up and hurried on my clothes, met the worthy little Zimmer-madchen, Ehsabeth, in the passage wringing her hands, and unlocking the parlour-door found the ladies, who had not gone to bed, pale and almost speechless. By this time all the dogs were barking, and a terrible uproar in the house and streets. Knowing that this is not a country for earthquakes, I did not feel alarmed, but just for this very reason the people of the place were in all the greater panic. In case of another shock, I sat up for an hour; but feeling most ungallantly sleepy persuaded the ladies to go back to their room, and having again committed ourselves to Him who can keep us even when mountains are moving, in a few minutes I was fast asleep. Yesterday and to-day many people are leaving in consequence of the alarm.”
“BiNGKN, Aug. 10, 1846.
“My dear Andrew, — On Wednesday we took leave of Ems — almost sorry to leave a place where we all thought we had got some health, and where most of the days passed so pleasantly. We made no friends among the visitors except at last exchanging civil words with a few, but we had a great many humble friends who were concerned at our departure. Such as Philip and Andrew, the honest and sensible donkey drivers, our waiter Louis, who turned out to be an entomologist. (We had often seen him looking at our butterfly spoils when bringing up tea, but thought it was only in rude wonder, till we found out that he had a much larger collection of his own than any of us are likely to possess.) These German attendants are simple, warm-hearted, and obhging, and, as they are all well educated, it is interesting to talk to them — a thing which all visitors except the English do. We had a lot of English servants about the house latterly, footmen and ladies’-maids, who were evidently a subject of great surprise and compassion to the Germans. They treated their affectation and jaunty airs just as they would have been treated in a lunatic asylum.
“On Thursday evening at six we went on board the little steamer which sails up the Moselle, hoping to get to Treves, a city which, next to Rome, contains the most Roman antiquities. We had a lovely route, through perpetual castles, villages, and vineyards, but owing to the uncommon drought very tedious. We were frequently obliged to get horses to drag us through the shallows. We wearied of this, and got out at tea-time at a village called Alfen, where the guide-book promised us the best inn on the Moselle. It was a truly German place — a piggery under my windows, and a midden below those of the parlour, and so many queer smells, that had it not been for Eau-de-Cologne we could have done little justice to the noble cheer which they set before us. Here, and in other villages through which we passed, it is astonishing amidst wharpestilential smells the people live, whilst all around is the sweetest and most salubrious air. After visiting an iron- work and some beautiful scenery, on Friday afternoon we took a carriage twenty miles, as far as Simmern, and next morning came to this place of noted beauty. This overland journey is what hardly any Englishman has yet performed, and gave us more insight into the interior of Germany than can be got from a month on the Rhine. In the first place, it was all German. Except our landlord at Simmern, who said that he could speak a little French, but whose performances in that way went no further than ‘Qui, Monsieur,’ and ‘Bon soir,’ we did not meet a creature who knew any other language than DeutscK and, what is more remarkable, the said landlord had never seen an English sovereign. The travelling, too, was primitive. We came to a feriy where there was nothing but a shallow little boat and no boatman. Our postilion proceeded to help himself to this boat, and would have taken us across in it, but at last the ferrymen made
their appearance. Mrs. was in a perfect panic at the
idea of our venturing in such a shell, and insisted m Mglish on getting out of the carriage. This being interpreted to the coachman, he looked humanely at us, as a tender-hearted drover would look at three calves in a cage, and quietly led his horse into the boat with the carriage, contents and all. Then the road on the other side, over the Hundsruch mountains — such bouncing and bumping over rocks and stones as would have demolished a Stonehouse cart, anything except a German Wageri — whisking through vineyards all fresh and tender in a recent thunder shower — holding our handkerchiefs to our noses till we got through another of these fetid villages, and then emerging on thirty miles of table-land where’ universal sUence reigned. There were no farm-houses nor isolated cottages, all these being (Like Caffre Kraals or the old Scotch toum) clustered in little villages, — every villao-e being provided with its church and school, and eve habitation with its Mrs. M’Clarty. Extent and sflfence were the genius of the landscape; no birds except the quiet wagtaU; no people except the soHtary herd with his vast troop of goats or oxen — the latter not lowing; no travellers; no noise of our own wheels on the (now) dusty path — a region struck dumb. Its absolute newness made us enjoy it greatly. We looked, and felt, and said little. To-day we go back to Coblentz, to-morrow to Konigsberg, on Friday to Aix, and thence to Antwerp. If all be weH I hope we shall be home in the end of next week. I am perfectly ready to go for two or three weeks to Scotland or Wales, or wherever you may like best, and as soon as you please, and am very happy in the thought of thus enjoying your company. Yourself will be society enough, and unless you wish to superadd some other, I do not. “^ I shall be ready to start whenever you like, and in whatever
s direction. I am sure you much, need some change after so long and hard a season. The Ems waters are alterative. Whilst taking them I felt no increase of strength; perhaps the reverse: but for the last few days I have been conscious of much improvement. The inactivity has yielded to a more sprightly feeling. I have slept remarkably well most of this journey. I cannot join the popular vilification of German beds. They are the freshest and most elastic I have ever occupied, and except last night I have had the whole to mysel£ Last night I had for a neighbour a Floh, which the Frenchman I succeeded had forgot to take with him. As it is now likely to be the end of September before I am allowed to preach again, it is a great comfort to have the pulpit so occupied. I would like to write to Arnot, but a letter takes an hour, and, except in rain, I like to spend every hour in idlesse or the open air. His coming up just now is an act of friendship for which I feel most deeply and affectionately grateful
“Best love to dear mamma and Jane. I am glad to think that so few days are now between us, though the past have been days for which I must be ever gratefuL
“J. H.”
He returned from the Continent improved in health; but it was judged expedient that his vacation should be prolonged for another month. Accordingly, in company with several members of his own family, he spent the greater part of September in Wales. This interval was eminently beneficial in restoring his strength; it was also turned to account in maturing schemes for the work of the ministry.
“Bangor, Sept. 6, 1846.
“Having now been sequestered from all preaching for twenty Sabbaths, I have got some time to think anew on what preaching ought to be. I have heard many sermons of late. Sometimes I have been so weak and joyless as not to be a fair criterion, but generally I wished to be pleased, and was not unwilling to be impressed. Leaving out of account all the erroneous doctrine, two defects attach to most of the pulpit performances at which I have been present. Few of the preachers seemed to have a definite object in view; and of the few who were anxious to establish some particular doctrine, or enforce some specific duty, I can scarcely recollect one whose discourse was so fresh, and clear, and persuasive that the careless would be arrested, that the simple could follow, and that the attentive would be impressed.
“Around my own recovery there still hangs a serious uncertainty; but thinking of it as a thing, in the kind providence of God, not impossible, nor altogether unlikely, I often revolve on beginning my ministry, and what should I preach, and how.
“Now, it does seem to me that the Lord Jesus is the Alpha and the Omega of Christianity, and that the gospel ministry has achieved its highest end when it brings a soul into a reahzing knowledge and firm belief of what Jesus Christ has done and what he is. When it has enkindled such an adoring affection for him that henceforth to live is Christ, and when it has availed itself of this new
principle, to elicit a frank obedience to Christ’s commands, and a studious conformity to Christ’s example.
“There is one preliminary point on which I have some difficulty. I fear that many hearers do not intelligently and assuredly believe that Jesus Christ came into the world. And I do not know whether for their sakes I should not commence with some brief and forcible proofs of the historic fact. If mine were a country congregation, I should never think of so employing a single Sabbath. But our young men are in frequent intercourse with sceptics and scoffers, and I strongly suspect that some of our well-disposed and sober-minded people are haunted with speculative doubts and scientific difficulties. To some I really believe it would be a relief, — it would be setting them on a rock, and putting the new song in their mouths, — did they know for certain that the New Testament was written in the first century, and were they as sure of the facts in the Saviour’s history as they are sure of the narrative in Caesar’s Commentaries. Would it be worth while employing a few Sabbaths on some of the most striking evidences? I think it would. I think that I myself have no more doubt of the occurrences related by the Evangelists than if I had personally witnessed them; but I fear that some of my hearers may not be so fully persuaded, and I also fear that in such cases, without this preliminary persuasion, subsequent reasonings and appeals would be, for the most part, labour lost.
“The next thing would be to present to the minds of the people the most vivid conception I am capable of forming, or for which the Scriptures supply the materials, of what the Saviour was, what He did, and what He is, at the same time striving, by every touching consideration, to make such a Saviour precious. There are two classes who are most likely to hail Him, — those who have a great burden on their conscience, and those who have a great void in their souls. It should therefore be an object of my ministry to convince of sin, to make the conscienceburdened know what it really is which weighs them down, and direct them to that Lamb of God who takes the load away. And for the other class, the restless, and craving, and life-weary, I must try to show them how in Jesus Christ they will find love without alloy and a Friend without infirmity, — a Friend worth living for, and with whom it will be blessedness to live eternally.
“And the last thing to be attempted is to give such an exposition of Christian character, the things sublime and the things amiable in living Christianity, as, in connection with love to Christ, will produce a holy ambition to abound in them. The production of holy, Christ-like character is the highest result of evangelical preaching, but it is also the rarest. It is rare, because many evangelical preachers do not venture to descend into the details of Christian duty, and some who have studied these fail in supplying the great motive to Christian practice. What I long to see is a Church of saints, a band of happy, devoted, unworldly men, full of the Spirit of Christ, and abounding in good and noble deeds, — a Church of members far superior to their present ministers.
“These are the things at which I would aim, I have a deep conviction that no mere preaching can produce these tilings, but I also believe that these ends are never earnestly and prayerfully sought without the power of God’s Spirit accompanying the minister,”
This scheme for a course of sermons is the expansion of a briefer note inserted at a previous date. The plan in its fuller form shows the aim of a workman who strives to divide rightly the word of truth. Jesus stands in the midst of this ministry, with the evidences on one side and the fruits on the other. The series on the Evidences was meant to lead the hearers to Christ, and the series on Christian Character was meant to keep the converts following Christ. This is substantially the old apostolic resolution, — a determination to know nothing among the flock but Jesus Christ and Him crucified.
“Bangor, Sept. 8, 1846.
“My DEAR Brother and Sister, — So full are we all of the tidings of this afternoon that the most natural and most pleasant thing I can do is to write a few lines to Stonehouse. I will not tell you how Jane and I went to the post-office, hardly expecting a letter, and then the amazement and the glee with which we read the holograph announcement from grandmamma herself, and how we went back to the house and teazed and puzzled Andrew by saluting him ‘Uncle Andrew.’ But I must tell you how happy and thankful the good tidings have made us, and how earnestly we hope to hear continued good accounts. When John Foster was an old man, the only survivors of his family were two daughters, and it is curious to read his mournful forebodings of their future lot in life. He had gloomy views of life in general, but. it was his opinion that the life of women in this world is peculiarly unhappy. I do not agree with him either in his general or his particular views. Considering how much evil survives in the best, I wonder that earthly life is so happy; and, so far as my memory goes, some of the calmest, serenest, and most blessed lives have been those of well-educated and pious women. Harriet Newell, Elis. Smith, Fanny Woodbury, and many more of whom I have read, betwixt the peace of God which filled their hearts and that soft atmosphere of kindness and respect which their goodness gathered round them, led very happy lives; and though some, like Mrs. Graham and Mrs. Huntington, had great trials, they had greater joys. I trust you may both be spared till you see Christian principles so confirmed in the mind of this little girl, that when you are at last taken away for a season you may have no fear for her future. When there is an early dedication to God, followed up by prayerful painstaking, I have no fear that this will be the result.”
TO MR. WILLIAM HAMILTON.
“Carnarvon, Sept. 17, 1846.” So intensely Welsh are the Welsh Calvinists, that it is of no use going to their chapels. We heard a good sermon from the Independent minister at Bangor, and another good one in the Wesleyan chapel here. Our experiments in the Established Church have been very discouraging. The Bishop of Bangor and a stranger whom we heard here last Sabbath were utterly insignificant. A gentleman whom I met on the top of the coach took measures to count the actual attendance one Sunday in all the seventy-three parish churches of Anglesea. In a population of 47,000 there were less than 500, — less than an average of seven to each. And yet I suppose the High Churchmen will clamour for the continuance of the diocese of St. Asaph, as if the permanence of Christianity in North Wales were involved in it. Last night Mr. Gillespie’s old friend, Mr. Eees of Liverpool, was preaching here. He had on a week evening five times as many hearers as all the Episcopalians of Anglesea....
“Now that in the kind providence of God I have the prospect of soon preaching again, my mind is much occupied about this winter’s subject. As recent events admonish, ‘the time is short;’ and as the discourses will at first be limited to the morning, will it not be better to suspend the lectures on the Acts, and give a short course on the most essential things of Christianity? These, I am persuaded, might be made far fresher and more simple than they usually are, and I would even hope more impressive.”
An intelligent observer, with the spirit at once of a Christian and a patriot, sojourning for a month in Wales, must needs take note, in sadness or indignation, according to temperament, of the position occupied by the Established Church in the Principality. The Welsh Calvinistic Methodists, supplemented efficiently by some other orthodox communities, are the really national Church. Unlike the Gaelic in Scotland, which is confined to the remotest localities, and the least educated of the people, the Welsh tongue is cherished and used by the bulk of the people in the Principality, — the educated as well as the unlearned. The preaching, accordingly, that is truly national employs the native tongue. Symptoms, however, are not wanting to warn the Christians of that country, that, though they have hitherto embanked their territory against the rising tide of the English language much more completely than the Scottish Highlands, the time is coming when the barriers must give way. There is no time to be lost. A prudent glance into the immediate future should suffice to stir up all their energy in the direction of providing ordinances for the rising generation in the English tongue.
The notice regarding the late Mr. Eees of Liverpool, which occurs in the close of this extract, is most interesting in the light of subsequent events. Mr. Eees was the true bishop of North Wales. That voice of the godly people, which in such a matter is the voice of God, clearly designated him as the chief pastor and preacher of the Gospel His memory overshadows the province still. At the mention of his name in any company spontaneous signs of tender reverence are displayed. Yet, when that man died, the incumbent of the parish, being anomalously ruler of the national cemetery, permitted his dust to be buried only on condition that his sorrowing disciples should keep their lips closed, and not dare to sing a hymn by the brink of his grave!
The latter part of this prolonged vacation was turned to good account for his own subsequent ministry. With such a measure of health as enabled him to he a hearer, but not such as to justify him in attempting to preach, he occupied the interval as a worshipper with various sections of the Church, and in different parts of the country. “Whatever excellences he observed during this period, were treasured as examples; and if he also noted the faults of other preachers, he employed them as a means of detecting and amending his own.
His entrance into the marriage relation is generally one of the great turning-points of a man’s life. Different persons are, of course, differently affected by it, according to their age, and character, and habits; but even where least, the consequences to happiness and usefulness are unspeakably great. Perhaps we would be safe in saying that James Hamilton was one of those persons who experience the need, and enjoy the benefit of a help-meet in the very highest degree. Such a companion was a prime necessity for him, and he knew it. He was not one of those firm, self-contained mortals, who can stand alone, and be all the world to themselves. His spirit was of the full and overflowing kind, that is ready to burst unless it is permitted to pour out its emotions more frequently and more completely than is possible in any human relation except the nearest. Accordingly, he accounted it a great matter, and gave it the gravest consideration; but he could not command the blessing. He silently prayed for the gift, and then waited the Giver’s good time. He learned in his own experience, as many have learned before him that marriages are made in heaven.
At length the right person appeared in the right place.
It may have been observed from intimations in Mr. Hamilton’s letters that one of his favourite retreats from the bustle of the city was at Willenhall, under the roof of Mrs. Moore, widow of the late John Moore, Esq., of Calcutta, who had lately returned from India. From these pleasant sojournings “important consequences followed.” Mrs. Moore’s eldest daughter was at that time very young, and in the first instance he entertained no design and no expectation in the direction of matrimony; but as time went on, according to his own confession, he “found in her such a fountain sealed of various goodness,” — found her so “full of sense and considerateness and mature feeling, as well as mere girlish innocence and simplicity,” that he was taken captive in the usual way. Judgment and affection conspired in the choice, mother and daughter were duly consulted, all parties interested gave cordial consent, and the contract, real though not formal, was fixed, with the condition that a considerable period should intervene ere the marriage should take place.
The series of letters addressed by Mr. Hamilton to his affianced between the time of the engagement and the date of his marriage is a unique and most interesting collection. “We shall submit some specimens. By the nature of the case the choice is necessarily limited; yet, to withhold them altogether would leave a blank in the delineation of a character which was, in a very remarkable degree, simple, pure, and elevated. In this step of his life, as well as others, he walked by faith; and none might dare to annoy him, in such a tender and grave transaction, with any species of levity.
“Dee’s Hotel, Birmingham, April 15, 1845.
“My dearest Annie, — It was the wish of Archbishop Leighton that, as he hal been a pilgrim all his days, he might die in an inn; and I have often looked at the old house in Warwick Lane, the Bell Inn, where God gave him his desire. And good Mr. Jones of Creaton (the ‘Basket of Fragments ‘) lived all his days in a little country inn. But neither of them, I think, would have chosen the traveUer’s room. Here I am at the corner of a very long table, at the further end of which Mr. Msbet is manufacturing tea in what he calls the orthodox way — that is, in Mrs. Nisbet’s way, — a Presbytery clerk at my elbow is copying his minutes, one is studying the Birmingham Directory, two are writing home, and fifteen or sixteen ministers and elders are talking in the various tongues of our motley Presbyterianism.
“Of the sights of Liverpool I saw none except the Zoological Gardens. There I missed many old friends, whose acquaintance I made in 1838. They have still the same elephant, but his character is under a cloud. A short time ago he killed a man in a fit of revenge. The man had pricked his trunk when pretending to feed him, and the elephant took the first opportunity to seize him, and squeeze him to death....
“By the date of your dear mamma’s note I find that this is a memorable day in her history, and in that of your family, — her brother’s birthday, and her own sailing for India. It is also a day of solemn remembrance with me. It is ten years to-day since the Lord took my father to himself, — the saddest day, at the time, I ever saw, though
I can look back to it now without the bleak and desolate feelings which long rested over it. Like your own father, he had been very diligent when young, and possessed a great abundance of information on almost every subject. He was full of affection to us, and had, more than any one I have known, loving and adoring views of our blessed Saviour....”
“May 25, 1845. — Let me try to sanctify my affection, to make our mutual regard a means of good. I must seek to guide her studies, to help her dear mother in directing them, and above all must try to increase her personal piety, expanding her mind, enlarging her information, and trying to give a holy elevation to her character, to fit her for those scenes and duties in which it is my hope yet to see her.”
“7 Lansdowne Place, June 10, 1845. “... Well, my dearest Annie, the things about which I am most anxious are your character and your acquirements. Don’t startle when I speak of character, as if I imagined you had still one to make. It was because you had made Mar/s choice, and because you had so many congenial dispositions, that I felt it right to entertain towards you those feelings which now I do. But the best character is that which improves the fastest, and nothing will give me so much joy as to see you winning every one’s esteem by your good sense and energy, your gentleness and self-denial. You cannot be too kind to grandpapa and grandmamma, and you may be very useful, not only to Helen, Fanny; and Mary, but to your brothers also. Of dear mamma I need say nothing, knowing how much you love her, except this, that I hope she will never see in either of us what will give her a moment’s concern, and this, that one of the loveliest things in yourself is that you have loved so much one whose wisdom and affection and goodness would have made her (even though she had not been your own mother) so worthy of your love. And oh, Annie, take time for prayer! They are dreary and disjointed days when God is not with us, but everything prospers well when His blessing is secured.
“Then for acquirements. I am glad that you are so fond of work, and that you have a taste for music. The only other thing about which I am anxious is your information. The world is full of accomplished and ignorant women, people who can dance and draw and embroider, but whose company is far more irksome than the solitary confinement of Pentonville prison. If you have, what you can so easily get, a well-furnished mind (by adding diligently to the knowledge you have already attained), you will possess what few of your lady sisters have. Two hours of solid reading daily, in which I would gladly be a sharer on the days I am at Willenhall, and perhaps half-an-hour in writing down the results, would be a goodly acquisition in the course of a year. What would you think of laying down and enforcing on yourself this rule? History, biography, voyages and travels, and books on natural history, are the most useful kinds of general reading. It is an excellent plan to make the books one has been reading the subject of conversation.
It impresses them on the memory, and saves many of those idle words for which we must give account.
“I know that you know me too well to look on this as a mere letter of advice. It is a letter of anxiety. You have been in my heart as I wrote every word, and though there are many persons for whose welfare I am concerned, there is none whose growing improvement in intelligence and piety and beauty of character can be the same joy to me.... The Lord shine on you with His face, and make us happy in Himself. — Your ever affectionate
“James Hamilton.”
10 Bath Stkbbt, Worthing,
Saturday, Jvly 10, 1845.
“My deakest Annie, — ... Yesterday afternoon I went to see a rich nursery-garden in the neighbourhood. The rarest plant in it was an American mallow, with a flower as large as a hollyhock. It came accidentally among some American roots, and turned out to be a new species. Professor Lindley named it Malva Fulleriana, in honour of our friend Fuller, the nurseryman, who showed it to us; and so gorgeous was it that he had orders for three hundred cuttings of it at a guinea each, and got a man from London on purpose to attend to them, when one frosty night the fellow got tipsy, and left the glass open, so that they all perished. The survivor which we saw was a plant that he had previously sent to Baron Alderson, but by this time a Parisian florist had somehow got possession of the plant, — so that, like the milkmaid and her pail, Mr. Fuller’s vision of golden guineas was all dispelled. In that garden we saw a profusion of roses, as great a variety as I have ever noticed, but none of them so sweet to me as your moss-buds. At this moment I am sitting before the fire, for it is really cold, and your roses are on the mantelpiece as fresh as their neighbours at WillenhaU.”
“Rotten (Hotel b’ Albion), Aug. 9, 1845.” My dear Annie, — As I am not likely to keep any other record of this excursion, I shall set down whatever comes into my mind, and just in the order in which it comes, — along, perhaps, with some of those things which I would have been apt to say if you yourself had been beside me. I will thus feel in some measure as if I were in your company, and will feel more interest in what I see.... Havre is the Liverpool of France, and a very lively town. We stayed all Friday there. One thing struck me at once — the boundless vivacity of the French people. Some masons were repairing our hotel, and singing at their work. Some carpenters were repairing a steamer which lay opposite our window, a job which needed haste, as she required to sail next day, and they twirled their gimlets and flourished their hammers, and skipped about in search of pins and nails, as if they were capering through a pantomime. And some sailor lads were washing out a deck, when they began to souse one another with their water-buckets, and soon got up a famous sham-fight. I do not know if they get through as much work as our sullen and deliberate English labourers, but they certainly go more briskly about it. Here the ENTOMOLOGY. 289
working men all wear bright blue smocks, and the women, except ladies of quality, go about, not in bonnets, but in muslin caps, some of them very fantastic, but all of them, down to the very poorest, of a snowy whiteness. It is no uncommon thing to see the common people, husband and wife, going ann-in-arm, which I have never seen in England. They are wondrously polite and affable, and talk as much in a day as would suffice a Saxon for a month. In some things they are very far behind us. Their horses are small, and wretchedly harnessed, often yoked into their omnibuses with ropes, and the said omnibuses pitiful wooden machines without springs, in which the passengers bob up and down like dice in a dice-box. The streets are swarming with soldiers and police — a sign of a lower stage of civilisation; and the streets themselves are narrow and dirty, and the interior of the houses too much in keeping with the streets. On the hill d’Yngonville I first tried the new net with which mamma supplied me, and almost the first capture was her favourite golden Y-moth, “We also secured a Goliath of a grub, a sleek green monster, which far surpasses any caterpillar I have seen at home. I cleared out a box of soda-powders for his special accommodation, but I fear that he is not thriving in his new quarters.”...
“Rouen, Sahbath, Aug. 10, 1845.” This morning we went immediately after breakfast to the cathedral, one of the finest in France. They were celebrating mass. A great multitude, perhaps 2000, were present, almost entirely women and children, and of these again very few seemed earnest or devout. I do not wonder
T at what an English gentleman, long resident in Eonen, told us yesterday, that not three Frenchmen in a thousand believe in any religion. The only religion which arrests their eye is the one whose mummeries we witnessed this morning, — and certainly a greater outrage on common sense, or a more daring mockery of the heavenly Majesty under pretence of worship, I never expected to see. It was not so much the service in an unknown tongue, but the entire ceremonial — so childish, so theatrical, so alien to the very genius of Christianity, and in the present instance so irreverent, — for the priests of Eouen are a coarse and rascal set. In the procession of the host they stood for some moments where we sat, and made faces and joked with one another in what should have been a most solemn part of the service, and showed little anxiety even to seem sincere. I should except two dignified ecclesiastics, the one a very young man, from his graceful manners and noble look probably of higher birth, at least of more elevated sentiments than the sordid herd around him; and the other an old priest of that earnest and ascetic look which reminded me of Mr. Newman. An aged Protestant pastor (a Frenchman), whom I met this morning, said ‘Popery will soon die out in Europe unless “yowr country give it another chancel’...
“Tuesday Morning. — ... I give myself credit for some forbearance, in as far as I have given so little space to the subject which most occupies my thoughts. The Lord bless you and keep you. In these ramblings I often revert to that happy Wednesday which we spent so much of together, and which made even us so much better acquainted with one another. I used to think that our minds were congenial; but now I feel as if there were an interfusion of our souls, — as if what we had, we had between us. ... I am sorry when I hear people only jesting and laughing about these things. You are not only so dear to my heart, but so sacred in my eyes, that I M’Ould not like that our alBfection should ever be a subject for raillery or quizzing,”
“108 Marine Parade, Brighton,
Sept. 5, 1845.
“... “We are here very pleasantly situated, and have had two days of quiet leisure. There is a little strip of garden reaching down from these houses to the sea, where yesterday I saw a prodigious crowd of the cabbage butterfly among the mignonette and the tamarisks. So many were they that the children were looking over the fence at them. A man sorting the garden brought me in a great caterpillar which he found on the privet. It will likely be some sort of hawk-moth. I spent a week at Brighton in January last year, and then read the half of Sir Samuel EomiUy’s Life. I was exceedingly taken with it, for in some things I saw a curious resemblance betwixt his turn of mind and my own. Yesterday I went back to the same library, and borrowed the last volume, and in reading it was surprised and happy to find (what I had forgotten) that the name of the lady to whom he owed nearly ’ all the real happiness of his life * was Anne. She was a remarkable person, and theirs was a more remarkable love. There was only one element wanting in it; and when, after twenty years of devoted affection. Lady
Eomilly was taken from him, poor Sir Samuel liai no comforter to go to. His heart broke, and in the frenzy of his grief he destroyed himself It is likely that we, too, who have to wait some time for our completed happiness on earth, may again have to wait a little while — the one in the absence of the other — for our completer happiness in heaven. But whoever be the one whose lot is to tarry in the body when the other is gone home, 0 Annie, may the Lord give that one a meek and weaned spirit, willing to wait the happy hour ‘when death- divided friends shall meet to part no more.’”
“9 Upper Rock Gardens, Brighton,
Oct. 10, 1845.
“My dear Annie, — ... What were you doing on the 10th October 1838? That was the day when I was licensed by the Presbytery of Edinburgh, — the day of the highest wind I ever remember. We then lived in George Square, and I do not wonder that some who then lived in it feel Lansdowne Place a dull exchange. It was a sweet and peaceful abode, but in less than a month thereafter an event occurred which made it for some time a sad one. My sister Mary died on the 5 th Nov. She was eighteen, and for the last two years of her life had been very delicate. She was full of gentle goodness, and though not so brilliant as an older sister who died seven years before, had mind enough to make her interesting without making her formidable.”
“7 Lansdowne Place, Nov. 19, 1845. “... When coming down stairs on Monday morning (I am ashamed to say it was a quarter-past nine), I met
Miss Fector coming in. She had come with £50 for the Schemes of the Church, — a thank-offering from her mother. It seems that iMrs. Fector had a cataract in her eye, and was intending to undergo the usual operation for its removal, but she did not like the idea of the operation much more thau the prospect of losing the eye, and she prayed very earnestly that, if it were the Lord’s will, He would remove it Himself. Three weeks ago, to her amazement, the cataract was gone. She sent for Alexander, the oculist, who was to have extracted it; and he said that it was as effectually done as he could have done it; that it was a case almost unprecedented, but had been done by a very peculiar action of the muscles of the eye; so the good old lady, in the fulness of her heart, sent this acknowledgment. Being so long an Episcopalian, she has always been fond of praying out of a book; but, as her daughter told her, she did not find in her book a prayer for her eye, and she must allow that it has been as effectual as any she ever offered.”...
“Hastings, May 16, 1846. “... At present I am husbanding my voice, and my time is divided betwixt books and sauntering walks. I feel that it is my duty for the present to be idle; but I can imagine no more odious combination than health and idleness. Within three doors of this lives the rector of
, an empty, indolent man; his children littering
about the gravel, and himself yawning through the square all day. He goes in a fly to W — on Sunday morning, ’ does duty,’ and returns in the evening. When I see this cumberer of the ground, I am apt to get angry at myself for doinfj nothinj;.”
“Bangor, Sept. 8, 1846.” Perhaps I am too fond of looking forward, and yet whenever I feel as much strength as I have felt the last few days, plans and purposes about the future revive very strong in me. There are two portions of my ministerial life on which I look back with pleasure — the twenty months at Abernyte, and the four years at Regent Square, betwixt January 1, 1842, and January 1, 1846, that is, betwixt the publication of the Church in the House and the Mount of Olives! During the first period God blessed my preaching, during the second He opened up a new path of usefulness through the press. There is still one thing which I would like to try, if the Lord permit. I would like to see how much might be made of one congregation. I would like to make full proof of my pastorate. I am willing to give myself wholly to my own people (at least for a season), and by preaching, and personal intercourse, and affectionate dealing with young and old, would fain see our flock a holy church — a peculiar people. In this work, my dearest Annie, I shall have need of you. Perhaps it is for this reason that hitherto my exertions have been wide- spread, and I have been somewhat of a public servant, whilst a young and single man. And now when I have the hope of leading a different life, these pastoral and home-keeping feelings occur to my mind. But be that as it may, I am sure that it is a great advantage to one who wishes to be a pastor to be a married man, especially if his wife be a help-meet for him. I look forward to the day when we shall have schools connected with the church, and when we may both fiU up an hour usefully and pleasantly among the children, and by-and-bye amongst the parents. And though hitherto I have been grievously disheartened by such specimens of poverty as I have tried to help, I would not abandon the hope of doing something among the poor.
“I hope, too, that you may find a few congenial and estimable friends in the congregation. But my main hope of our doing good in our new capacity is by the silent influence of example, — by being ‘patterns to the flock’ of what married people should be. I would like our house and all our arrangements to have so much order without stifihess; so much neatness, without expense or show; that the quiet comfort and Christian simplicity of our home should be itself a lesson. I rather, I fear, love arrangement and method in other people than exemplify it myself; but I do love it, and often think of a saying of Mr. Martin of Westminster, ‘I wish to remember that the eye of God is in each drawer of my writing-table.’ I love it, and with your help, dear Annie, I am now willing to make an effort towards its practice. I am enlarging beyond my intention; but if you invite a continuance of these meditations, I will go on.”
“Festintog, Sept. 22, 1846. “... And now to resume our meditations. However retired we live, the minister’s family, like the minister’s self, is sure to be the subject of observation, and to a certain extent this is natural, and, if rightly improved by us, may be rendered useful, for we should be patterns to the flock. On this account we must in our mode of living cultivate plainness and simplicity. “We do not need to give parties, and this, besides saving trouble to the lady of the house, saves a great deal of useless expenditure — useless, because nobody is the more esteemed or loved for giving a gay entertainment. It is not possible to live in London without incurring serious outlay. House-rent alone has hitherto absorbed a fourth of my income, and for cabs and omnibuses I spend thirty or forty pounds a year, besides the expense of more distant journeys. Since coming to London I have subdued my propensity to book-buying, but still a minister must buy books — they are the implements of his industry. By the time that the requisite household and personal expenses are defrayed, there cannot much remain for the savings bank. And then there is an item more urgent than house-rent — I mean charity, including contributions to the missionary and ether schemes of the Church. I do not think that people’s comfort depends on their income. That income will be very much what good sense and self-denial make it; and as you have both of these qualities, I am in great hope that we shall hit the golden mean of comfort without profusion, and simplicity without shabbiness. Instead of incurring debt or exceeding one’s income, the true wisdom is to try and save, though it were only twenty pounds a year. A saving to this amount, or getting into debt to this amount, makes all the difference between indigence and independence. If people feel that they are spending all their revenue, and perha.ps a little more, they have no heart to give away money, and very little enjoyment of those good things which their money has procured for them. We shall soon see what we are about, and must shape our plans accordingly.
“Dearest Annie, notwithstanding your invitation, I am almost ashamed to go on in this strain, as if I were dictating to you, or telling you things which you had not thought of before, some of which dear mamma is better able to expound than 1 am. But sometimes it is useful in order to stir up the mind by way of remembrance,’ to mark down those things the carrying out of which in daily life makes a useful and respected character, I will therefore add one more. It is the ungallant remark of Mr. Jay, — ‘If the Graces were female, so were the Furies.’ There is one slight foundation for the remark. I do think that, generally speaking, ladies are more sifting in their criticisms and more severe in their judgments, more apt to credit an unkind report and resent a wrong, and consequently more ready to fall into little sects and coteries, than are gentlemen — (I say ’ generally speaking,’ for it would not be difficult to quote instances of female generosity and forgiveness). And this perhaps is one reason fr what has sometimes been remarked, that ministers were more useful before their marriage than after it. Their wives were gossips, and listened to everybody’s story, and told their husbands what this one and that other had been heard to say about him, till they filled the poor minister’s mind with prejudices against half his flock, or even split the congregation into little sects and cliques, till the minister’s heart was chilled and his usefulness was at an end.
“Now I do think that our congregation is tolerably exempt from partisanship and evil- speaking, but there are doubtless different sets of people, and these by-and-bye might grow into sects. Of course each would like to reckon the minister’s wife one of their set. But the best way is to be so kind to all as to be committed to none. Some will be so good and amiable that you will naturally make them your friends, but they must give you their friendship without insisting on your taking up their antipathies; and with your natural circumspection, aided by the wisdom from above, I think it will be possible for you to walk in such a perfect way that none can justly call you cold, and yet none be able to claim you for their coterie. These are some of the practical duties which lie before us. I am glad that there are such. It is in this way that married life supplies an additional means of glorifying God and fulfilling His will”
“Bellevue Hotel, Aberystwith,
Saturday evening, Sept. 26, 1846.
“My deakest Annie, — The equinox brought its usual gales, and since Tuesday we have had stormy weather. On Wednesday and Thursday it rained so much that, except to witness the sublimest of stormy sunsets which I ever saw, I scarcely ventured out of doors either day, I spent the time in reading Hume’s History of England, and going over the passages which I had formerly marked in Foster’s Life. It is not so much the books which one reads, as the way that one reads them; and though it is not near so entertaining to travel the ground a second time and make extracts and abstracts, it adds fourfold to the value of the first perusal. Some of this sort of work I compelled myself to do at Festiniog. Yesterday afternoon it cleared up, and in a car we jogged across the mountains, eighteen miles to Dolgelly, at the foot of Cader-Idris, which we did not reach till dark. This morning it rained so terribly that we all thought Dolgelly a dismal-looking place, and were glad to take inside places in the coach to Aberystwith. The road is hilly, and ours was the slowest coach in which I ever travelled. It took more than seven hours to thirty-five miles; but he was a good-natured man the driver, and the coach and the horses were his own, all his own, — for, as he said himself, he had no partner but his wife, and as he was anxious to save the horses, and was willing to let me down to gather mosses, and was willing to stop as long as we pleased in the village where we changed, nobody could find in their heart to be angry. I saw in him what an impenetrable coat of mail good-nature is, for though I sometimes felt that I ought to scold him, I am sure I never spoke to him without a smile on my face.... Oh, dearest, how I wish I had you here, listening to the ocean’s billowy psalm! It is dark, very dark, and I cannot see the slender moon which we saw last night like a horn of silver sinking into a mountain top; so dark is it that we can no longer make out those long foam-ridges which we watched an hour ago, nor see the spray dashed far over the reefs; but the darkness makes the sound more audible, and there it is booming and rattling and moaning away, just as the billows, and the shingle, and the distant tempest did when first I heard their anthem.
Andrew gets in ecstacies beside a waterfall, but to me there is no grandeur like the sea.
“I was counting — how humbly we should count, and how submissively we should say, * If the Lord will ’ — but if it be His will, I was counting that it is just one hundred days from this to that other day which I have so long desired. Over how many obstacles has that gracious Preserver brought me, brought us, to this day! And if He be pleased to bring us to that other, how deeply bound shall we be to consecrate our happier lives anew to Him!”
“Hereford, Tuesday evening, Sept. 29. “On Sabbath we heard two excellent sermons in the parish church. The vicar, Mr. Hughes, is a good old man, and being this, we were delighted to see his large congregation. Altogether, we enjoyed last Sabbath greatly.”
Although he speaks plainly wherever an example of indolence or unfaithfulness crosses his path, his eye is open to see good in the Established Church, and his heart to receive it. Indeed, the habitual elevation of his spirit towards the Head kept him singularly free from sectional prejudices.
Mr. Hamilton was married at WillenhaU on 5th January 1847.