Residence in Glasgow, Energy of Mind Continued, Progress of Disease, Death
In contmuing the narrative of Mr Halley’s life beyond this period, we have no longer those rich materials which haye hitherto suppUed us with both facts and commentary — his own letters. At home, and enjoying the personal visits of his friends, he had no longer the same motive which, during the last three years, had drawn so many pledges of friendship from his pen. Partly from the want of materials provided by himself, and partly because he was now in a sphere where persons /md events are better known, we shall contract, within a very limited space, the remaining portion of the narrative.
On the day after his arrival he kept his bed, as the best means of recovering from the fatigue of the journey. In the course of the day, two or three of his friends were admitted to converse with him, and join in his thanksgivings. His emotions on first meeting them were strong, but he was in a cheerful frame, and Was soon able to converse freely. The wonder to them was, that there was so little difference in his
T appeanince. After having long lost hope of seeing him in the body, it was with no slight emotion they looked on him again, still so like what he had been before. The lost was found. It was like a restoratian from the dead. Paler indeed he was, and more emaciated; but all the vigour of his mind sundyed, and all the warm affection of his heart was there. There was the same acuteness of judgment in reasoning with men, and the same fervency of spirit in serving the Lord.
After recovering from the effects of fatigue, he found that his health had been considerably improved by te voyage. During the remaining part of the summer, he was sensibly better than he had been for the last six months in Madeira. He sat up during the whole of the day, and though too weak for walking, acoomplished, without injury, sevarsJ journeys of omsiderable length. He paid two visits to Mr Colquhoun at Killermont — a distance of four miles from the city — going and returning on the same day, without being sensible of receiving any injury from the drive. The last occasion on whidi he was able to be out of doors was a visit to a minister in the city, who had been one of his most intimate collie friends. He had often expressed a strong desire to see his class-fellows in their own pulpits declaring the unsearchable riches of Christ. This gratification he was not permitted to enjoy; and it was as a kind of substitute for it, that he made an effort to visit at his own house the only one of them who was within reach. Although he was so weak that it was necessary to carry him up stairs, he conversed freely for several hours, and sat at dinner without evincing any symptoms of uneasiness.
Those who were present remember well the look of intense interest with which he regarded the books and loose papers that were lying about the room, indicating the ongoing of the work of the ministry. No mark of envy appeared on his countenance, — no word of discontent fell irom his lips. His emotions were evi dently the very reverse. The smile of a perfect resignation seemed now to have settled on his &ce. With regard to himself, the struggle was over; he was not only still under God’s hand, but satisfied with his judgments. Having been by the Spirit brought at last into complete acquiescence in the decree which excluded himself from the ministry of the Gospel in the Church, it afforded him unmingled delight to sec the friends of his youth actually engaged in the duties of their holy calling. This visit was on the 8th of October. The day was clear and mild. He was conveyed home in the evening, not injured by the exertion; but he was never able to go out again.
During the winter, he was able to receive, almost without Umitation, the visits of his friends. We have seen him maintain a conversation with great liveliness for two or three hours together. The range of subjects was very wide. Some point of doctrine or of Christian experience; some event in the world or some question agitated in the Church, would afford the eme of a lengthened discussion, and then the whole concluded, at his request, with devotional reading of the Scriptures and prayer. Of the ministers of the city, Dr Muir, as the minister of the parish in which he resided, and Dr Henderson, on the ground of the friendship contracted in Madeira, were among his frequent visitors. He delighted much in these visits
SOO MEMOm OF JAHBB ftALLBY.
from the more experienced ministers, and often spdce of the henefits he derived from them. Many of te younger ministers, too, of the city and neighbourhood, with whom he had formerly lived in terms of intimacj, felt it a privilege to spend an hour in his sick-room. They profited by his conversation at the time, and felt his example an excitement to diligence afrerwards. Mr Stevenson has supplied a brief note of one of these interviews, which may be given as a specimen.
* ... It was on Monday, the 8th February. He gave me then a book, which he had marked out as a LEGACY to me, with an affectionate note inclosed. We conversed for a long time on our spiritual state, read a passage of Scripture, and prayed. He complained, with tears in his eyes, of his felt coldness and wandering of heart in prayer. He was in a veiy tender, humble frame of spirit. I requested him to mention a passage of Scripture which he would leave with me to be remembered. He repeated 2 Cor. iv. 1 — “Therefore, seeing we have this ministry, as we have received mercy, we faint not.” I bade him a long farewell, sorrowing most of all that I should see his &ce no more.’
The following memorandum, by the Rev. Mr Lorimer, who frequently saw him at this period, vrill serve as an example of the yet unwearied activity of his mind, and the readiness with which he could still apply the resources he had formerly acquired.
‘I remember he was the first to inform me of the appearance of universal redemption views among some of the ministers of the United Secession Church. He seemed to be acquainted with the facts, and bore testimony to the faithfulness of the older ministers in one of the inferior church courts. He stated that he had studied that controyersy fiiUy, and that there was only one passage which he regarded as a difficulty, yiz., that in the 2d chapter of John, where Christ is said to be the propitiation for sin, and not for ours only, but also for the sins of the whole world. I suggested the usual explanation of the distinction between the Jews and the Gentiles. He said he was not satisfied with that; he did not see evidence that this distinction was intended. He still considered that passage a difficulty; all the others admitted of easy explanation. Of course he did not consider the doctrine doubtful, which is so clearly taught in Scripture, although a difficulty rested on the exposition of a single text. We concurred in thinking that the distinction of the old divines between Christ dying svffidently for all, and efficiently for the elect, was the true key to most of the difficulties connected with the use of universal terms in this question.’
It may well be supposed that he regarded with the most lively interest the position and prospects of our own Church. He was thoroughly acquainted with the merits of the questions agitated, and his judgment had long ago been deliberately formed. His comments on events as they happened in the Church, in connection with the principles involved in the controversy, were most instructive to his friends. His evi dence seemed to possess more weight now, than when the witness mingled in the strife. It was the testimony of one who felt that he had done with life, and was living under the power of a world to come. It was the testimony of one who was well qualified to decide in any circumstances, but was now removed from those disturbing forces which generally warp the judgment of men, — the testimony of one who considered the question in the calm which broods over the yeiy entrance of the grave, — who examined all its bearings in the light which a near eternity throws across upon the confines of this present world. The judgment of such a one, in such a position, necessarily commanded respect. Nor was the sound uncertain. His sympathies were as strong then as they had ever been, in favour of the evangelical Church of Scotland, and against those members of it who unnaturally rebel against her authority, and press a policy which must either degrade her as a Church of Christ, or destroy her as a Church established. The solemnity of the situation in which he was placed did not in the least degree modify his opinion-^id not affect at all the substance of his judgment; it only had the effect of increasing its force, by banishing all appearance of passion from its form.
As his heart’s desire and prayer for the country in general was, that the Gospel of the grace of God might be faithfully preached in all its parishes, so he felt a peculiar interest in the state of the uniyersities, and the kind of training to which the future ministers were subjected there. Of all the public questions of the day, we do not remember any one in which he felt more deeply concerned, than in the elecn of a professor to the chair of thecdogy in the uniyersiiy of Glasgow. While the merits of the candidates were undergoing discussion in the public press, and when the time of the election was drawing near, we have heard Mr Halley say with much solemnity of manner, ‘I will not believe that the professors will reject Dr Chalmers until they do it.’ When the election was over, and Dr Chalmers rejected, he did not often, so far as we remember, recur to the subject. When the deed was done, he thought of it more in sorrow than in anger. He was more occupied with grief for the injury sustained by the Church, than with resentment against the men who inflicted the blow. He left them to the distinction which they had earned for themselves before the country and the world.
Wlule we thus record the unabated severity of his judgment against wrong principles and wrong practice, we owe it both to the cause of truth, and the memory of the departed, to record. also that there appeared at this time a thorough charity, both in thought and ex - pression, toward the persons concerned. As an Dlustration of this, and at the same time to show the natural kindliness of his disposition, we shall insert here a note written about the middle of September, to a minister of the United Secession Church, who had been his class-fellow at the grammar school and at college. It is well known that Mr Halley felt keenly, and took a most active part in the Voluntary Controversy, that had agitated Scotland for several years; but he never allowed it to break up a private friendship, or diminish his estimation of personal wortlu
* My dear John, — Not knowing how short my time might be on earth, I drew up, in Madeira, a little scheme of the way in which I wished my father to dispose of my books, marking some as mementos to different friends. The accompanying little volume I destined for you, deeming such a casuistical work peculiarly appropriate to one engaged, as you are, in the ministry of we Word.
* As my very dear friend J. H., whose parish is distant from you only a few miles, expressed a willingness to convey any thing I might have to send, I thought you might like as well to receive the book from mjself while yet a sojourner here, and was dan to take the opportunity of saving mj faiher nom future trouble in sending it, as well as of expressing my unabated affection to you- H. will act the part Tychicus, and tell you ^’ all my state and how I am,”^ ad 80 »Te me the efibrt of ^ting mon».
Be assured that I remember you most aHfectionately; and do not forget me when you get access into die holiest by the blood of Jesus. The Lord bless you and your ministry. — Ever yours sincerely, J. H.
’ 1209. John Patentm
During the autumn and winter, Mr HaHey wrote several letters of great length to persons at a distance, which we have not been able to recover. Two were addressed to Mr Bum, the missionary sent out to Madeira, containing a detailed account of the religious condition of the island, and suggestions to aid him in prosecuting his duties. The only letter of any consi-^ derable length that has &llen into our hands, is one addressed to a former fellow-sufferer in Madeira. As to the style, being written to a lady, it will probably be felt to be deficient in the freedom which characterises most of his letters. Even in the matter, it does not exhibit the vigour of his earlier efforts. We would not have chosen it as a specimen of his epistolary style, but the circumstances invest it with so much interest, that we feel bound to preserve it entire.
Glasgow, 12£& October 1840.
‘My dear S, — I sit down to write to you under
very considerable disadvantages. It was only this morning that we received your sisters letter requesting me to send you a few lines; and I find the postomce arrangements render it needful that my letter should be despatched to-night, in order to be in time lar the packet. Bat a worse evil than the shortness of time is, my utter ignorance of the state in which you are, especially that part of it which is mental. That your bodily frame has been suhjected to severe suffering, we know; hut whether you have been enp abled, in any good measure, to possess your soul in patience, has not been told us. And although there is too much reason to think, that still your weakness of body remains, perhaps to such an extent as to endanger life, it is my misfortune not to be sure whether you are “rejoicing in hope,” and therefore ‘^ patient in tribulation,” or “walking in darkness,” and, to your own conception at least, ‘^ filled with the fury of the Lord, and with the rebuke of our God.”
‘Under this ignorance of your mental condition, it would be very discouraging, indeed it might seem altogether useless, to attempt to write to you, if one looks only at the human agent. It is our comfort and encouragement in such a case, to know that there is an all- wise Disposer of all things, who knows your condition although I know it not, and who can (as I earnestly beseech him to do) overrule my writing to you as the means either of establishing or of comforting you, as need may be. A bow drawn at a venture has been of use before now; and we do not know what blessing God may be pleased to send, even when we are working in the dark.
* Our great duty, and God’s chief commandment, under the dispensation of Gospel light, is to believe on the name of his Son Jesus. Christ. This faith, which is at all times our duty and happiness, has various exercises, united to the condition into which we may come. And one of its exercises, to which I would call your special attention now, is that of complete and unquestioning confidence in the wisdom and foodness of the Divine procedure; according to the int given in the last verse of the 1 07th Psalm, it is often very profitable to review God s dealings with us in a time of triaL All the illustiatioiis which that Psalm oontaiiu, are of dispensations of an qfiiciMB kind; and you obserre that it is from these yeij «x^Eie* <totM, hard and serere as they might seem, at e Psalmist says that a wise obserrer may learn the loying’kindness of the Lord. In looking back on what has befallen you, I doubt not you will be able to trace the highest wisdom, directing all to a benerolent end. Most people have some scheme or other ci earthly happiness on which their hearts are set; and probably you haye had yours* Of course I do not know what it may hare been. But this, I think, I may venture to say, from all I have obsenred or been tola of the Divine procedure, that it is likely your favourite plan or wish has been so thwarted, as to make it manifest that the fulfilment of it could not have brought that amount of happiness you eiqpected from, it; or in such a way as to make you more sensible of your corruption of heart; or, finally, in such a way as to strike at some of the sins to which you fef t yourself nfost liable. Such indications as these of a kind purpose in smiting, you will easily find; and I do not know an exercise more signally fitted to tranquillize and soothe the mind, than thus to follow out the course of Providence, till prayer and meditation upon it are turned into thanksgiving.
This meditation will, no doubt, be conducted with the most abundant firuit and the greatest pleasure, by a soul in the enjoyment of a conscious peace wilh God, reconciled to him by faith in his Son, and ready, in consequence, to see, with full and clear conviction, that all things are working together for its good. If you have attained to this happy state, I need not speak to you in any other words than those of congratulation; for nothing can be so blessed as to be able to recognise God as our friend, — and to wander up and down among his dealings towards us with the confidence that all were dictated by kindness, — «nd io be persuaded, that neither life nor death shall be able to separate us &om his lore in Christ Jesus our liord. But, lest jou should not have attained to it, permit me to say, that (in subordination always to God’s blessing, which we must ask that we may receive it) the meditation on God s ways, which I have abready recommended, is an excellent means of preparing and disposing the soul towards the attainment of that peace, and of all the felicity involved in it. For that which chiefly obstructs faith, and so prevents us from being at peace with God, is the distrust and shrinking naturally engendered by a sense of guilt (which we are so perverse as sometimes to paake a merit of, by confounding it with himiility). Now, what can be better fitted to combat this distrust, than to see, as we may, if we will attentively review the matter, that, guilty as we are, God has manifestly dealt kindly with us, even in those things which we -would have thought most severe? Such a view of his providence, if His Spirit enable us to take it, must WonderAilly conduce to fill us with a general confidence in him, and to give us that thorough belief in the sincerity of his ofiers in the Gospel, without which we cannot truly and effectually receive them.
But this, as indeed every thing, must come from Himself, and therefore must be sought from Himself. Ptobably we, who are in such a state of weakness, have been brought into it just for this very purpose, that, disabled as we are from the use of other means, we may be the more intent on prayer and supplication. And if we have not enough of mental energy to follow the train of reasoning in books, — or are unfit for conversing, — or have no Christian friends near, with whom we may take sweet counsel, — we may still prai, to Him who is always near, and who will not despise the prayer of the destitute. This, along with reading the Word, is, I am persuaded, your great duty now. The prayer may be short, it may be a mere ejaculation, yet
It may enter into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth. And the passage read at any one time may, by reason of your weakness, be very brief; it may be but a single verse; yet it may be brought home, as Qod the Spirit has often ab’eady brought it, with his own demonstration and with power. The great thing to be aimed at in ail, is an humble dependent firame of spirit; and if God give you this, he will, either in this world, or in the next, but certainly in due time, exalt you.
I must now close, for the post hour passes. Janet desires me to send her loye. We sympathize truly with you; but we would wish you a nearer acquaintance with One whose sympathies are infinitely yaluable, that great High Priest, who is touched with a feeling of our infirmities.
* I haye to beg you will pardon the defects of this hurried letter; and I pray that God also may pardon them, and may deign to use it as a messenger of some good to you. I do not ask you to answer it, but shall be glad that you mention that you haye got it, in your first letter to your sisters after its arrival. With every good wish to your brother, and in the hope that this may find you partly restored; or, if this be not the will of God, rejoicing in his favour, and ready to depart, — I am very affectionately yours, J. H.
* P,S. — I am a close prisoner, and very weak; but able to be up half the day, and not enduring much acute pain. Cough very heavy. J. H.*
He sits down to write, he says, under considerable disadvantages,’ not knowing the condition in which the person addressed might be when the counsd reached her. Alas, how true! She was dead before he sat down to write it. The dying, in ignorance, writing out consolation to — the dead! Such are the partings of those who meet in that little hospital isle! And that little isle set in the sea, is, in respect of brief meetings and sudden partings, a meet emblem of this wide world floating in the ocean of eternity.
As we are just taking note of incidents that may be characteristic of the deceased, or instructive to the reader, without making any pretension to a continuous narrative, we shall introduce here, in succession, extracts from four short letters — all written to early friends who had, in different places, entered on the work of the ministry.
‘Glasgow, 29tk October 1840.
^.... Hoc dimisso accept of my congratulations
on your safe return to D. How vastly I should
like to see you going about in your parish! and how much more to look in at one of your little meetings, at which you are trying to follow your worthy bishop s advice and example, and crack to the people extempore! But these wishes are dreams, which can never become realities. Still, I can wish well to the work and bid you God-speed, even from this my prison-house
* My dear John, — I very much need your prayers, as a man of unclean lips, and laden with iniquity. Do not forget me when you endeavour to draw nigh to God. — Yours very affectionately, J. H.’
‘Glasgow, l*Jth N(yrember 1840. ‘My dear James, — Before yours of the 7th reached nie, I bad been informed, through the ‘^ Guardian,”
of the intention of the trustees of Church to
present you to it. I was just meditating a note to you, to state some reasons for which I thought you ought to accept, when your epistle arrived, and saved me the labour. Now that your decision is made, and partly executed, let me only say this, — that, however grievous, in respect to the people of A your removal may be, and however ominous the causes of it in reference to any future appointment in that parish, — iX appears to me that Providence has now fixed, in great wisdom and goodness, the hounds of jour habitation. Not to speak of the pleasure jour mother will have in jour restoration (as it maj almost be called) to her, and of the advantage to the jounger members of the family, I would view jour settlement in Edinburgh as of great importance to your ultimate usefulness in a way in which all your iriends look for something from you. No man could have been taken thither to whom it will be more acceptable to be within reach of the learned treasures of so many Ubraries; and, while I join heartily in your prayer that you may be kept from the excessive and sin love of distinction, I trust that, in all humility and meekness, you may be induced, by your locality, to serve GU)d and your generation as a writer on some subject of interest and importance. Meantime, you must expect great discourageiaents in the attempt to rear a congregation; bat such preaching as you spoke of, if the Lord enable you faithfully to use it, will not return void, even in the matter of attracting some; and I doubt not, a few years hence, you will be the minister, if spared, of an intelligent and devout, if not an overflowing, congregation. Andrew Fuller suggests it as a ground of quiet acquiescence to ministers, when their visible success is less than they would desire, that “better breath than theirs was spent for nought and in vain.” Isa. xlix. When I can pray at all, I shall not forget to make mention of you in the way you desire....
Your friendly inquiry about the comment touches me on rather a sore point. Nothing has been done, save, during the first few days after I saw you, the collection of a few not€B variorum and a cursory glance over Locke (whom, by the way, I regard as a very poor expositor. I would give him up to the Socinians, and let them make their best of him). Perhaps about half the time since we met, I hare been physicallj disqualified, by the abore named cold and languor, from doing any thing. But the worst and most constant disqualification is the moral and spiritual one, which has often before enervated me, and now, being forcibly brought to view by Paul’s addressing his epistle to “saints,” has stopped me altogether. I trust you cannot at all sympathize with the state of mind, — not even from recollection, — in which I write, wh I isay, that I have for a good while laboured under a strong impression that the conclusion of the 50th Psalm debars me from attempting to comment upon God’s Word. It is a melancholy confession wherewith to afflict the mind of so dear a friend, who will be moi« impressed by its sadness than I am myself, having his spiritual senses far otherwise exercised than mine; but it must be made; that I have never yet known what it is to have a confidence of acceptance with God. A sort of quietness I have indeed had habitually; but self-examination has always ended in a suspicion of its foundations; and the fruits of faith, clear and imequivocal, I have never been able to see. In this case, I think, upon consideration, that I could not, without great hypocrisy, groping in the dark, and leading people to imagine me possessed of an experience which I have not, attempt to comment upon the Epistle to the Ephesians. Every other qualification I might possess for the task, would thus go to strengthen a practical fraud. And the sorest evil of all is, that I am not conscious oi feeling this state of things as I ought, in its true character of a most sinful and miserable stat. Only this I do in some measure see, that, if any thing could heighten the inherently infinite and inexpressible privilege of being in a state of conscious favour with the Almighty, it would be the enlargement of spirit which one could enjoy in expounding such a portion of the Word as the Ephesians. I do not say, my dear James, in what way your prayers for me should be directed in such a case; bat you will be able to jadge yomelf, and I doubt not you will not fail to ask for me, from the Father of mercies, all needful good things....
That you may be strengthened with all might by the Spirit in the inner man, so as to make full proof oif your ministry, and may know the blessedness of being clothed with salvation to the eternal joy of many, is the heart’s desire and prayer of, your very affectionate,
‘J. H.
‘Bev, Jamei HamUton.’
* Glasgow, 5tk January 1841.
*’ My dear John, — In ordinary circumstances I might well be ashamed to see that your letter, which refreshed and pleased me much, bears the date of 29th October last. But you know, and can appreciate, my excuse. I might, indeed, according to your suggestion, have used Patrick’s hand; but I felt quite confident that you would be hearing about me firom...
And now that I do write, I can manage nothing more than literally a line to tell you how I do. Bodily, I of course fail; but not so fast as was to have been expected. For six weeks past, however, the descent has been more marked, owing to a new form of illness I have been visited with, namely a total failure of power in the stomach, frequent vomitings, and almost constant nausea. I feel, too, the steady diminution of breathing power. But I still get up about mid-day, and spend till ten, p» m., in our parlour, mostly on the sofa. You will almost wonder to hear, that with the power, I have nearly lost the inclination to read. Sleep hardly any — sl kind of disturbed dozing is the utmost. Spiritually, I have no good to say of myself. I have, indeed, been mercifully preserved from distracting fears; but I have never been able distinctly to identify the kind of quietness I enjoy, with the soUd well-founded peace of a soul at one with its Maker. I am aiming at this very elementary attainment, and praying for it as I can; feeling, meantime, that my own impurity and backslidings render it inconsistent -with God’s usual administration in holiness and faithfulness, that I should be blest with the higher mercy of rejoicing in God through our Lord Jesus Christ. But whatever may be given, or whatever withheld, in the way of sensible comfort, I desire to be found making daily application at the Fountain opened for sin and for uncleanness, waiting upon God, confessing unworthiness of the least mercy, and bearing witness to the long-suffering and loving-kindness of the Lord.
* I rejoiced to hear of your settlement in a dwelling of your own, and hope it may be found a great accession to your comfort. Don’t let the study contain too good an easy chair; for if it do, the sermons may suffer. How I should like to hear one of these said sermons! Indeed it is often a favourite dream with me, what delight I should have had, if it had pleased the Lord to continue a little more strength to me, in moving up and down the country, and hearing, on successive Sabbaths, those of my friends and brethren whom it has pleased the chief Shepherd to honour by calling them to the work of the ministry. But the event may be regarded as a proof that this dream is better not realized.
* 7th Jarma/r 1841.
* These two days of intense cold have been very sore on me. I fear I can hardly expect again to write you, so little exertion is now fatiguing. But you will not be much at a loss with Mr J. for an occasional informant. If you ever favour me with another epistle, you must, in simple charity, not expect an answer.
‘And now, my dear friend, farewell. Let me have the great favour of a constant interest in your prayers; and believe me to be, with every desire for your useiiilness in the Lord’s vineyard, affectionately yours,
‘J. H.
* Bw. John Wright:
314 MBMOIB OF JAlOn HALLBT.
22d February 1841.
* My very dear Sir, — You will now see why I troubled you about Hume. Being crafty, I haye caught you,” but not with guile. For I indeed thought you had a copy of his Essays, but that it was one of the old two toI. editions; and if this had been verified, I should still haye sent the accompanying yols< — they are much more fulL But if you had had this same edition, I should then haye looked out some other book.
‘Long ago, in Madeira, when many around me as well as myself thought that my pilgrimage would be shorter than it has pleased the Lord to make it, I thought it a duty to draw out a little scheme for the disposal of my books* My prizes, of course, as a thing they would much value, I desired to remain with my nearest relatives. But there was one friend, whose disinterested, laborious, kind, and persevering services seemed to me to give him a right to the only poor ‘distinction I could confer — that, namely, of leaving him one of these same college rewards, and makhig him the only person beyond our own family to whom I did leave one. I need not say you were that frigid.
‘In looking over the list of them for one not unsuitable to a divine’s library, and of such value as to be something like an expression of my feelings — this book struck me as the most appropriate; and I was aided, probably, by the consideration, that it was sending Hume where he could do no harm. I am glad now to find you have none of him, as it makes it more appropriate still.
” Although it comes prematurely, I would have you consider it as a legacy. ‘,” ’
Praying that your kindness to me may be amply repaid into your own bosom, and that the Lord maj richly bless you in all your ways, — I am most gratefully yours, J. H.*
‘Rev. Jamea Cribton.*
And now we hare done with the letters. Beyond this date we have no materials supplied hj himself.* Hitherto we haye extracted his history ahnost exclusiyely from his own writings. These hare failed us now; but not until the tale has been nearly told. The date of the Ic is only twenty-four days before his death. Though, from the change of circumstances, bis letters written at Glasgow never go so fully into a statement of his hopes and prospects as those which were written at Madeira, the tone of them is still the same* Though they are but notes written to persons near on some subjects of private interest, they are all eharacteristic of the man. They afford a better eyiience of the state of the writer’s mind, than if they had been more laboured and professedly on rdUgious subjects. We have given his latest letters on common subjects, just to let the reader see that his latter days were very like what the tenor of his life had been during the preceding four years. There was the same calm victory over the world and the fear of death — the same humble estimate of his own spiritual attainments — the same unshaken faith in the truth of the Gospel — and the same ardent longing to be satisfied with the mercy of God. Having told so fully what his life had been, we have little more to do now; we have only to say that his death was like it.
One thing that attracted the attention of all his
* Since this wu written, a letter has been put into our hands dictated by Mr Halley, but not written by his own band, bearing date the 8th of March 1 84 1, just eight days before his death. It is addressed to one of his former pupils, and wholly occupied with a description of manuscript books on Mibjects connected with Greelc literature. Having no more use for the notet which he had taken.in the earlier period of his studies, he was unwilling that they sbouldbe lost, and took care to have them conveyed to one who wmald profit by them. The chief interest of the letter is the evi< friends towards the close of his life, was the perfect coohiess with which he spoke of his own death. We haye seen some, and heard of more, who, in the confidence of hope, could speak on their death-bed with something like ecstasy of coming glory. In him we saw an example more rare, and perhaps equally instructive — a belierer who would not assume the attitude of victor, and never dared to adopt the language of triumph, yet, through the Saviour, actually oyercoming death and him who hath its power. While he refused to display the form, he manifestly possessed the substance of a triumph. It pleased God to withhold from him to the last that amount of joy for which he had long been striving; and besides observe ing the fact, perhaps those friends who best knew the constitution of his mind, may be able also to perceive the reason of it. Considering the peculiarities of his character and talents, they may be able to perceive that the path by which he was led, was the very path on which he was best fitted to glorify God. Some are enabled to glorify their Saviour by being compassed about with songs of deliverance;’ he was enabled to do the same thing by hoping against hope.’ The form which his faith assumed was, though he slay me, yet will I trust in him; ’ and faith given in this form, honours Him who gave it.
During the two or three last weeks of his life, when now very weak and nearly altogether confined to bed, Mr Halley made the arrangements for ‘setting his house in order ’ with all his characteristic deliberation,
dence it givet of the continued perfection of all his faculties, when so near the period of disaolution. Having been dictated to another penon, it bears the marlss of constraint, and contains none of those outpourings of his heart on religious subifects which abound in his other communications.
iffirrriNO his house in ordbr. 317
Bnd with even more than his usual precision in the details. He prepared a catalogue of his books, pointing out the characteristics of all the more yaluable works, and gave directions for their sale about a fortnight before his death. Those friends who had access to him accounted this an error, but unwilling to press upon him those considerations that might hare in* duced him to desist, they received his instructions in silence, and executed his commands.
In making out his Will, a difficulty occurred in regard to the expenses of the funeral. To leave the sum contingent, and to throw an uncertainty over all his other calculations, was altogether alien to the habit of bis mind. He could not leave any thing uncertain, while the means of ascertaining it were within his reach. Accordingly, two of his firiends having called while the matter was under consideration, he laid his commands on them to make the necessary inquiries, specifying minutely the various items, and carefully limiting the style to what he considered his own rank, that no unnecessary expense might be incurred. His fidends received and executed the melancholy commission. A note was handed to him of the estimated expense of the funeral, by aid of which he was enabled to substitute a definite for an indefinite expression in the settlement of his worldly affidrs.
“We feel it to be wholly unnecessary now to detail the events of each successive day. Alas, who of our readers cannot call up from the records of their own observation, a more vivid picture than we could hope to present, of a lingering consumption drawing near lis close? And as we have done with the events of bis life, so but little of his spiritual history remains to
816 MBMOIR OP iJOOB HALLET.
be told. If any of our readen have been banteiting through the fubstaiitial instructions which his life con-Toys, expecting something brilliant and exciting in his death, they will assoredly be disappointed. We shall note, in the simplest possible form, gathered chiefly from the members of his own ^unily, some of the in* ddents and expressions that tend to show the state of his mind in the immediate prospect of departure.
About ten days before his death he said to one of his friends on entering the room, — ‘The dark Talley is drawing very near now.’ The reply made was pardy in the form of a hope expressed, and partly in the form of a question put to ascertain if the dark Talkj appeared more dreadful as it approached. After a pause, gathering up his thoughts, and consideiing the grounds of his judgment, he said slowly and fimily, — No; it does not appear more dreadftd as it approaches, It is impossible to give in words an idea of the satisiaction which such an expressicm from him was calculated to convey to his friids. Such a cautious and measured statement in his lips, was equivalent to a confident affirmation firom a mind difierendy constituted.
About that time, as the spring advanced, the children from the neighbourhood began to assemble in the evenings to play in a court immediately beneath his window. When a fear was expressed that the noise would disturb him; he said, No; it gives me pleasure to think that others have animal enjoyment yet, though I have none.’ And when the children’s loud shout of mirth first reached his ear in the evening, he would smile and say, Hiere is the physical enjoyment beginning.’
NOTBB OF HIS OONVBRSATlON. Sid
On Wednesday, six days before his death, in a time of severe sufiering, an expression of great impatience escaped him. Wh»i relieyed, he remembered it and mourned orer it much, saying, ‘How the flesh lusteth against the spirit!’ and asking his sister, when she left him at night, to pray for pardon of this sin. On the day following, he said, I am not able now, and I don’t perplex myself widi any laborious attempt to settle or ascertain my state. I simply look to Jesus.’ Seeing his sister in tears, he said, My dear, you mourn sore like a doTe; what’s wrong now?’ She said, Just a rebellious heart; I cannot part with you.’ Ah, you must,’ he replied; my heart was long rebellious, but I trust it is not so now — oh I trust it is not so. “Be stilly and know that I am God.” It was long ere I oonid be still; but since I attained it, I have never been shaken from it.’
The paper in the form of a Will, which he dictated to his brother, sets out with a declaration ihat he is of sound mind. It was drawn up towards the end of the week. On Sabbath evening, on one occasion, his memory faltered a little. He detected it, and inwardly reflecting on the expression in the Will, said to his sister, Is that true? ‘Perceiving that she did not understand to what he referred, he said, Am I yet of sound mind? ‘She answered she had no doubt of it. Because,’ said he, ‘I would not like to put my name to a document containing such an assertion unless I were sure of its truth.’
On the same evening, when he complained that he looked but feebly to the cross of Christ, his sister repeated a verse of an Olney hymn, ending, For never needy sinner perished there;’ he said, in a tone
990 XBHOm OP JAMBS HAIJ.BT.
of cabn satisfaction, * Ob yes, and we hare Ids own words: “Whosoever taoiiemdoBie,! wnXkim no wUe cast out.*’ Obserring his own weakness whea sopne litde office of IrindnfSB was dcme for him, he saii, Is not that the grasshopper beiI^^ a bniden? Tmljdesue kas failed; what oonld I desire now ?** Then, in a tone of great tenderness, added, “I am like a broken tcssel; I am a wonder unto man j, and to myself also; I am feeble and sore broken.” His sister took the opportunity of reminding him, as an eyidenoe of mercy in the midst of judgment, that his heart was not disquieted within him as the hour of departore approached. To this he assented, saying, with a deliberate and solemn voice, “a great mercy indeed.”
On Monday morning, a member of the familj told him the report (which had just reached this oonnfry, and was at first beliered) about the rocks at the Falls of Niagara being carried away, adding, the moon* tains shall depart and the hills be removed, He twA up the verse eagerly, and finished it, dwelling with much emphasis on the covenant my peace ’ — re< peating over and over, my covenant.’
On Monday night his mind wandered a Kttle. Observing it and checking himself, he said to the« members of the family near, Why did you not tell me I was raving? It would have been land to have said so, and stopped me at once.’ Seeing them look sorrowful, he said, with the cheful tone of (me who would encourage and console, You know, at the close of life, such things must be.’
On Tuesday he spoke little. About eight o’clock in the morning he intimated, with some difficulty, that he wished pen and ink. This was to write an inscription on a book to be presented to a friend who, having come from a distance to see him, had called unexpectedly on the preceding evening. Being supported in his bed, he wrote, in iair characters, on the blank leaf of a small Greek Concordance, the following inscription: —
JoANKi W. Whight, V. D. M., A. M., Amico DilectOy Hunc Libellum, Plurim. in insula Madeira nsitatum (modo G. T. excipias), D. D. D. Jac. Hallet.* Tbis was about eleven hours before his death. It is vrith no common measure of delight that we present this inscription to our readers. It is evidence providentially afforded, and most satisfactory in its nature, that it had pleased God to continue to the last the fiiU exercise of his mental powers. The clearness of intellect, and tenderness of heart, which distinguished him through life, appear unimpaired in the hour of departure. Besides the accuracy of the inscription as a whole, there is a very striking incidental proof that memory was at the time in a state of the most perfect activity. It is said, this book was most used in Madeira, ’ if you except the Greek Testament.’ Now, about two days before, he had dictated the following
* To John W. Wright,
Minister of the Word of God, A.M.,
a beloved friend,
This little book,
most used in the island of Madeira
(if you except the Greek Testament),
is presented by
Jaubs Hallby.
sentence in his Will: — * To the Rev. W A
mj Greek Testament, the hook which, beyond all question, I have handled most daring the last three and a-half years.’ This &ct had been distinctly before his mind when he wrote the inscription.
The day of a believer s death is a ’ great day.’ It is much to be remembered. It is the final application to its needy object of the ransom which Emmanuel paid. It is deliverance to the captive. It is joy in heaven. It is glory to God. We stand still, and look with awe on the departure of a redeemed souL Surely the Lord is in this place. The death of a believer is a great thing; but its greatness is one of the things that are not seen.’ Not seen, it cannot be described. We do not try to describe it. We leave it to the day’ to reveal how much gloiy the Redeemer hath gotten, each time a saved soul has departed finom a body of sin and death. Knowing that the grandeur lies all on the other side looking into eternity, we make no attempt to decorate this side that looks into time. We present unalted the notes whidi his sister has supplied.
‘He was much distressed that day. About three, Mr Gibson called and prayed. When I asked if he had heard, he said distinctly, “Yes, every word,” and thanked him. About five, Mr J. Smith called and prayed shortly with him. He said, “My firiend, we have been commending you to God.”. James answered, ‘^ I too endeavour to pray through the one Mediator,” and then added with much difficulty, ^’ the spirit is willing but the flesh is very weak.” In an hour, perhaps, afterwards, in a paroxysm of pain and restlessness, he tossed the clothes off him, and would be up. He said something very indistinctly; I onlly caught the word Emmanuel and s£ud, *•*’ Gbd with us.” He veplied, emphatically, Yes, with us ;*’ and, so far as I recollect, these were the last words he uttered. Yet I believe he was conscious to the very last. A minute or two before his departure, he raised his dear hand, and passed it slowly all over his face. It was the cold dew of death stealing over him that he felt. He seemed satisfied when he ascartained this; and replacing his hand on his bosom, almost immediately expired.’
It was cm the evening of Tuesday the 16th March, 1841. He had entered on the 26tfa year of his age.
Over the grave where his body rests, a small marble
taUet has been inserted in the wall, charged with the
lesson which his life proclaimed, —
Seekest then great thitigsfor thyse^P seek tk£m not.
One thing is needful.’
If the moral portraiture of Mr Halley, drawn on the preceding pages almost wholly by himself, fail to convey to the reader s mind an adequate conception of the original, we need not expect to make up the deficiency by any additional touches of ours, now that the artist’s own hand is cold. And yet we feel that something may — that something ought to be done. In the intercourse of a long, unbroken, endeared friendship, we enjoyed opportunities of observing and appreciating the character of the departed, of which our readers, generally speaking, have no experience. In these circumstances. If we have marked some features that are not exhibited in the correspondence, or that being embodied there might not attract the notice of a stranger, it seems our duty, as it will be our pleasure, to point them out. From our recollection of his habits, and from his own manuscripts now before us, we possess an abundance of materials to illustrate any faculty of his mind, or aspect of his character, which it may be necessary to recall.
r In looking to the faculties of mind as they are dereloped in active life, it is impossible to distinguish with precision, between what is natural and what has been acquired. They are so interwoyen with each othor in their exercise, that an exact division cannot be made; nor, though made, would it serve any good end. It may, however, in the present instance, be of use to keep the distinction in view, as affording an intdligible principle to regulate the succession of objects. There are certain dispositions of mind and features of character which are generally accounted constitutional, which may b modified by circumstances, but cannot be made. Then there are certain other dispositions, and powers, and habits, which are generally spoken of as acquired, which depend on circumstances for their form or their existence. These, according to their objects, may be divided into the merely intellectual, and the directly religious. According to this method, and we care not to defend the logic of the division, the brief illustrations of Mr Halley’s character which we propose to submit, would arrange themselves under three distinct heads; and, if it were necessary to represent each by a single general term, they might be — his genius his learningy his faith. This order, accordingly, will be adopted in the notices that follow. We shall take care, however, when the altematiTe is presented, rather to break the laws of logic by ming-HIS CHARACTER — NATURAL GENIUS. 825
ling die sabjects, than offend against a higher rule bj artificiallj separating things that nature has indissolubly joined. -
1. In the department of natural genius — belonging to what is generally accounted constitutional, there were several prominent and strongly marked features.
One characteristic, strengthened doubtless by habit, but certainly inherent in his constitution, was a scrupulous accuracy, amounting sometimes to an extreme iustidiousness, — carried into every thing he undertook, small and great alike. This, we have no doubt, was the foundation of much of his intellectual greatness. Not that this alone was the germ of the abundant fruit that followed. We have often seen an equal appetite for accuracy associated with littleness of mind. Perhaps this conjunction is of more frequent occur* rence than the opposite; and hence many have fallen into the pernicious error of supposing that a certain eccentric disregard of order is an element of mental greatness. It may be true, that the strong developement of the faculty of order has, in many instances, proved abortive, or even appeared ludicrous, where there was not a corresponding solidity of judgment; but that is no disparagement to the faculty itself. It is essential to the profitable employment of a vigorous understanding where that has been imparted. For want of it, the best gifls of God have often been squandered. Without it the richest talents, ill laid out, yield no adequate return. True, this alone will not constitute or producegreatness of mind; but it is an efficient element of mental greatness notwithstanding. It is scarcely necessary here to do more than mention this feature of Mr Halley’s character. The
3S6 MBMOIB OF JAMBB HALUS7.
reader of the Memoir has seen it exemplified in almost ereiy page. In kis letta!B many instances ooeur of his method of balancing the reasons on both sides of a qnettioa* His judgment was always formed upon a caiefol examination of evidence; when Ibrnied, it was firmly adhered to, and vigorously carried out. Even in familiar intercourse ¥rith his friends this habit held its sway, often to their annoyance indeed, but not less for their profit. Every attempt to huddle up things in the easiest way — every effort of indolence to do a thing by guess, which might be done by demonstration, — every indication of a wish to leave a thing half done, whoi it should be finished, was sure to meet with an instant reproof. There seemed to be a something in his nature, — a string set deep in his constitution, on which every kind of slovenliness and inaccuracy jarred painfully. He could have no sympathy with the disposition to take a thing for granted, and have done with it. He refused to wink at it when k appeared in his friends. Much to their profit he of);en met it with a stem rebuke.
His memory was extraordinary. He was himself conscious of its strength, and took great dght in exercising it. Several instances of it have been given in the letters written from Madeira. This faculty, too, has sometimes been foolishly underrated. The pow«r of remembering accurately dates, and events, and places, has sometimes appeared dissociated frona the power of generalizing facts, and so turning to good account the things stored up in the memcnry. Observing this, some who would take the easy way of being great, have forthwith set themselves to undervalue a retentive memory. This is a grievous blunder. A
MEMORY — FIRMNESS OF JUDCUfENT. 327
reteBtive memoiy may baye been conjoined in certain cases with a weak understanding; but there is no necessary connection between them. Like the accuracy mentioned before, it is a most powerful instrument of good,-^in so far as it is a giftt, devoutly to be desired, — in so far as it is a habit, diligently to be cultivated. Mr Halley set a high value on his gift of memory. He knew the use of it, and turned it to good account. With him it was a vast storehouse of facts on which his judgment was continually operating — classifying the materials, drawing general conclusions, and reducing to practice the results.
As might be expected from the manner in which his opinions were formed, they were firmly held. In the process of reasoning, he was any thing but dogmatical. He listened with attention to every one’» suggestion. He carefully weighed the opinion of the weakest. The argument put forward by himself, he was willing to abandon when another pointed out a defect in it But when he had in this way deliberately arrived at a conclusion, he was inflexible in maintaining and acting upon it. We have seen him in his earlier days, in one or two cases of very trivial import, adhere to his point with an obstinacy which offended his friends and discomposed himself. This, however, was rare, even in these days, and latterly we did not detect it at all. There was always a firm adherence to his judgment, and often, when occasion required, much severity of expression in announcing it; but this was a thing altogether distinct from obstinacy. It was not clinging to an opinion because it was his own — it was a refusing to surrender it, because, on a careful investigation, he was convinced it was right.
It is very remarkable, that with these sterner qualities, which he never checked, he was yet so much loved in eyerj circle that he entered. There was some appearance of intellectual arrogance in his bearing, and even something that looked like petulance in his manner, — so much of this there was, that it may even haye repelled some in the first steps of adyance to his friendship; and yet we never knew any one of his se who loved so many, and was loved by so many again. He possessed in a very high dree the power of winning the affections of others. The exercise of the beneyolent affections afforded him great delight. Any one who reads his letters will perceive that his affections were ardent and lasting. But it is a fact equally necessary to illustrate his character, and not, of course, so directly exhibited in the letters, that the affection of his numerous friends for him was similar in its strength and duration. Even those who haye most smarted under his rebuke, loved him to the last. There was something attractiye in his tone and manner when application was made to him for advice. No matter who applied. He interested himself in every body’s case. It was no fair speaking merely; it was an evident, and always really efficient concern. His willingness to help, and the frankness with which he did it, conciliated the good- will of almost all who came into contact with him. But while there were many amiable points of his character, even as a scholar, those who knew him as a Christian loved him most. Those who were admitted to unreserred communion with him on spiritual things, were drawn to him by a bond whose strength and sweetness they cannot describe. The humility of the believer possessed a charm over the hearts of his friends, which the hrilliant career of the scholar could never exert.
It seems scarcely necessary to allude here to the style of his composition. In the letters the reader will observe the form which his more familiar effusions assumed; and at least one example — the sermon — of his more finished compositions will be found in this volume. We refer to it at present, chiefly to say that Mr Halley’s style suffers much by being transferred to ^aper and read by another. We feel assured that had he lived to see many of his compositions in print, he would have altered and improved it. It is difficult to condescend on the peculiarities we have in view; but one of the most obvious, is the length of the sentences. As spoken or read by himself, with the aid of tone, and pause, and emphasis, which he knew so well how to employ, it was not felt a disad* vantage; but to readers generally, his more laboured compositions may appear in some degree defective on this point. If there be in any instance something approaching to heaviness in the structure of the sentence, it is never indistinct — never inelegant. Moreover, the very thing which, on paper, may appear a defect, was in the living voice a positive excellence. Those who were in the habit of hearing him speak, remember that very much of his power lay in the peculiar modulations of his voice. The charm seemed to lie chiefly in laying emphasis on particular words. In his speaking, a very great part of the meaning was conveyed by the skilful management of the emphatic tones, and the form of the sentences afforded scope for the exercise of this talent. In writing letters, he always attempted to represent these tones by marks
990 MEMOIR OF JAMBS HALIiBT.
of emphasis under the words. Those who had heard him speak, and were accustomed to his stjle, could, in some measure, recall the tones, and the shades of meaning which the marks were intended to express; but others could not possibly appreciate them. In printing the letters, accordingly, we have suppressed the greater part of them. We know he would have done so himself; for they do not appear in those manuscripts which he prepared for the press with his own hand. To hare retained them all, would, in many cases, haye presented the appearance of a pi spotted over with italics, without any corresponding advantage. This peculiarity of his eloquence found freest scope in an address strictly religious. On any subject, his spoken language was eminently transparent; but on a religious topic, besides the intellectual precision which convinced the understanding, there was a glow of fervency which commanded the emotions of the audience.
The deep humility of his spirit — the overpowering sense of unworthiness that pressed upon him when he drew near to God, imparted an indescribable tenderness to his tones — gave a charm to his eloquence, which the captivated listener felt, but of which the speaker was wholly unconscious. The talent of which we speak might have been a mighty instrument in the preaching of the Gospel, but it has not pleased God to employ it He who possessed it was enabled to ’ be still’ when he saw it taken away, and why should we repine?
Mr Halley had not naturally much of what is called imagination. He was sensible of the deficiency, and latterly exerted himself to have it remedied. He con sidered it a talent that might be employed to good effect in preaching, and accordingly endeayoured to acquire it. In his discourses he often introduced illustrations from natural objects, M^hich his friends considered just and appropriate, but he always spoke of them as the efforts of a learner. On this point he had no confidence in himself, and would have yielded at once to the judgment of one far his inferior in other things. With the view of cultivating and exercising a sanctified im£^nation, he was much occupied, during the few last years of his life, in reading sacred poetry. During his residence in Madeira he procured and read almost every collection in the language, tran* scribing with his own hand, in a book, all that par- ^cularly pleased him. It is remarkable that only once in his life was he ever known to make any attempt to write verses in English. The solitary specimen has been preserved, and we gladly insert it here. Considered as a first effort, it will certainly prove, that if Mr Halley had not naturally a poetic imagina* tion, his efforts to acquire it had not been made in vain. As he borrowed hymn-books from all who had them, some person lent him one entitled The Ever green. This suggested the subject of the poem. The plan of it — the thought that runs through it, we think 18 exquisite. Some of the lines towards the beginning are not so full of the graces of poetry; but, so far as our judgment goes, the greater portion of them may challenge a comparison, with regard to the beauty of the conception and the smooth flow of the numbers, with any verses in the language. At all events, whether the reader agree with us as to the merit, of the poetry or not, we are sure he may derive benefit from the instruction it conveys :-~
THE EVEUGRBBN.
* or^Uoti, ttu verdant ttiH throughout the chaoging year are aeeo.
Come tell me which I mott may prise, as evergreen.
The laurel? No; it twines around the biood-stain’d victor’s brow.
And binds the poet’s fever’d head in fancy’s wildest glow;
But milder triumphs — o’er myself — are all that I desire;
And calmer Joys, whose kindling spark is drawn from holier fire.
The pine? It seeks the mountain top and glories in the gale;
Be’t mine, with meek humility to haunt the peaceful vale.
The myrtle? No; ’twas Venus* lower — the type of earthly love;
But perish all that does not own the smile of One above.
The ivy leaf? Ah no! it speaks of ruin and decline:’
Deceitful is its best embrace; it clasps to undermine.
The cypress? ‘Twould but teach the heart to dwell in needleas gloom i
Dark guardian of death’s victories! stern watcher o’er the tomb!
The palm? Ob yes 1 ’tis this I love — type of the single eye;
Which, bend it as you may, still shoots right upward to the sky.
*Twas borne, to swell the harvest joy, at that glad festival,
Br which the prophet has foretold the distant Gentiles’ call;
And when the Son of David once in lowly triumph rode,
Its graceful wavings welcomed him to Salem’s loved abode.
It marks, in sacred song, the growth of holy souls, while here, —
And shadows forth their ecstasies, beyond this mortal sphere.
When myrtles cease to speak of love, and ivy of decay;
When pines no longer clothe the hills, nor warriors snatch the bay;
When cypress needs no more around the narrow house to wave.
Because the voice of Christ hath called the slumb’rers from the grave;
Still, sUU remains the rest above, the deep celestial calm.
The joy of harvest in the heavens — the bright unfading palm.
‘Lev. xxUi. 40: Zech. xiv. I6-9D; ^ohn xii. IS; Paal. zidi. 12; Bev. vIL 8.’
His natural temperament was sanguine and sprightly. Even though he had never been actuated by a holier principle, he possessed enough of constitutional enterprise to undertake any task which perseverance and desperate exertion could accomplish. In consciousness of strength, he sometimes allowed the latest possible moment to arrive before he commenced his prepara- ] tions. “When competing for the Lansdowne prize, as the examination drew near, and great part of each day was necessarily consumed in classes and private teaching, he had no alternative but to borrow from the night. During the last fortnight,, except on Saturday and Sabbath, he sat up till four in the morning, and was called again at six. When out of bed, he didpiot consider himself fully awake till the affusion of cold water on his head had completely aroused him. The excitement of study then kept him alert till the next naoming. His sprightliuess was one reason why his strength lasted so long. It acted like sinovia on the joints of his body. It was the elastic medium which deadened for a time the shocks given by an over-active mind to the material framework. And, we doubt not, when that framework was so shattered that nothing but the direct interposition of the Almighty Builder could rear it again, this buoyancy of spirit was one reason why life lingered so long. Though the sprightliness of his latter days was often the result of benevolence — an effort of kindness to lighten the grief of those whom he tenderly loved — yet it was usually spontaneous. Amongst many things calculated to depress his spirits — the crushing of his fondest hopes — the suspension of his studies — the conviction that a malady, for which man knows no cure, was his disease — the likelihood that it would land him in the * place where they bury strangers,’ in a land that had no endearments to him — and, deeper than all, the prevailing dissatisfaction with which he regarded his own spiritual state — amidst all these causes of depression, it was wonderful how the playfulness of his mind would glance out in a letter to a familiar friend, and how his countenance would brighten when an acquaintance stepped into the room. Like asphaltus in eastem lakes, this gaiety was deep in his nature, and portions of it always floated on the surface, however dark and bitter the depths below.
dd4 MBMOm OF JAMBS HALLBT.
2. Proceeding now to notice his acquirements, we fed that this is not the place to enlarge on his learnings properly so called. To give evidence and illustration of it to any great extent, would not suit the plan c this volume; and to make many assertions regarding it, would not be profitable. At college he was looked upon as a prodigy throughout. In extreme youth, he was exposed to all the temptations incident to one who is the admired of all observers.’ By the special mercy of God, he was kept from falling. The learning he acquired at college, he always kept in its proper place. He never considered it as an end. He laboured to acquire it, in order that he might employ it as an instrument. When his views were intelligently and devoutly directed toward the ministry of the Gospel, he employed his previously acquired knowledge with extraordinary zeal and success, in prosecuting the studies that are more immediately connected with his destined office. His progress in this department as less generally known, but not less wonderful than his earlier efforts had been. Indeed, we think his learning was as far above a medium in theology as in the classics. The former accomplishment was matter of greater surprise to those who knew it than the latter. It is comparatively common to find a stripling skilled in the languages; it is rare to find such a one a sound and deeply-read divine. His reading was immense; and he was able from memory to give an intelligent account of any book he had ever read. His vast stores of knowledge were always ready to be turned to account. No one could be long near him without discovering that he was an extraordinary person; and he certainly was not guilty of making an ostentatious
^lisplay. The natural kindness of his disposition was a great means of bringing out his learning. He was readj to assist every one. He took an evident pleasure in turning his information to account for the benefit of another. Yet he did not in such a case assume the r of a superior. In whatever form the sin of pride may have beset him, there was certainly no manifestation of it here. Of all that he ever assisted, we never knew or heard of him giving offence by his manner of doing it.
Instead of making any attempt to enumerate the branches, and estimate the amount of Mr Halley s learning, we shall ventiu’e to insert here another specimen of his Greek versification. We give it, not so much from any judgment we have formed of its absolute merits, as from the circumstances in which it was written. We do not present it to challenge the inspection of critics, on the ground that we have examined ’ it and found no fault; yet we believe hostile criticism cannot touch it, because it is the product of Mr Halley’s pen. It was written in a time <Jf sickness, at Madeira, where he had no critical apparatus, and so far as we know, not a single classical book. We repeat, that the object we have in view is quite independent of the absolute excellence of the version. Whatever opinion may be formed of its character, its existence in these circumstances is evidence of a very retentive memory, and an uncommon familiarity with the vocables of the language. Though a scholar should say (which we do not anticipate) that it is not well done, he will still be left to wonder how, in these circumstances, it was done at all. The subject — the
8$6 MBMOIE OF JAMES HALLBT*
third chapter of the hook of Job — accords, alas! toe well with the sitoatioii in which he was placed*
Job, chap, iii ver. 3-26.
HIS RBLiaXOITS CHARACTER — ^HTTMILITY. 997
x$Trai d* 6 doDXo, dstf’jrorojv t’ksvhgos.
rov dfi¥ a*ff’ovra Oavarov 6g fioXsTv xaXsT,
Z,firtT d oirui rig ayuov &ryu/isvog —
o yag fLoKiST idettfa, toy0’ rixst dhnt’
ikriiKv&iv Ti dsivog saivrtg <poZog,
ov ya§ fL sdeXys dv/iog ik*jrt(Siv xevatg
ovr e(foXaov’ aXX’ gcrg0’X9j’v{/gv xaxov,
J. H.
Madeira, ISth December 1839.
3. Having enumerated some of Mr Halle’s gifts and ctcquirements it remains that we notice also his graces. Having seen what Nature did for him, and what Art, it remains that we take some account of ¥hat was wrought by the Spirit of God. We would like to bring before the reader again, in a few words, some of the more prominent traits of his religious character. We do not attempt to draw a finished portrait; we merely propose to direct attention to some of the more strongly marked peculiarities.
We proceed upon the assumption, that the reader has seen in the preceding Memoir, evidence that Mr Halley was sound in the faith — that he believed in Christ to the saving of the soul. On this supposition we go on with our notices. We do not wait either to show what a sound faith is, or to show that he possessed it; we proceed at once to mention some of the special characteristics of his faith.
One thing vety evident from his history is, there was much of humUUif in his religion. Besides the orthodox belief that bj the works of the law no fie Hying shall be justified, he felt deeply his own worthlessness in the sight of God. The strong expressions that frequently occur regarding his own unworthiness are certainly not words of course in his lips. like others to whom God has given the grace of repentance, he knew sin best as it existed in himself, and therefore he accounted himself the chief of sinners. He accounted others better than himself. This grace was peculiarly beautiful in him, where it was joined with so much of intellectual superiority. The brilliancy of his natural genius serred to set off to advantage the childlike humility which the Divine Spirit had wrought in his soul. It was this, we think chiefly, that gave the peculiar charm to his prayers. Along with the clearness of conception, and felicity of expression, which were to be expected from the character of his mind, there was a depth and tenderness of tone — the product of a pervading spiritual humility — that solemnized and captivated the listener. As a consequence of this judgment against himself, he was kept at the remotest possible distance from that presumptuous sin — arrogance of language or manner in a creature’s prayer to God. Like Nehemiah, he was accustomed to fear God as the Great and terrible,’ even * in keeping covenant and mercy.’
His belief in the Scriptures as the revealed will of God, seems never to have wavered. No doubts beset him. In this case, as in others of minor import, his belief was based on a most searching examination of evidence. It was the character of his mind to do this. He could not with ease retain any opinion, while the
<X>NTICTION OF THE TRUTH OF THB SORIPTURBB. 339
least uncertainty attached to the grounds of it. The craViug for evidence and accuracy seemed to he an instinct of his nature. Whatever difficulties he felt in matters of faith, they all related to his own experience. In all his fears, he was ever ready to acknowledge that ‘God is true.’ His reception of the Christian revelation was pre-eminently a reasonttble service. There was certainly as much of the rational in his religion as any sceptic could desire; and yet the effect of all his reasonings was only to stahlish more securely the foundations of his faith. It was most refreshing to converse with him on the evidences of Christianity. He was thoroughly acquainted with every department of the subject; and so perfect was his own conviction of the truth, that he habitually regarded infidehty, apart altogether from its sinfulness, as the very extreme of intellectual perversion and blindness. It is a remarkable fact, illustrating the strength of his own confidence in the reason ’ of his faith, that he wrote out and read a complete course on the Evidences to scholars in his Sabbath class.*
Another feature of Mr Halley’s religious character, which must have pressed itself on the notice of the reader throughout the Memoir, is his love of the Scriptures. In his study of the Scriptures there is a beautiful tmion of the scholar and the Christian. His. search into the Bible was at once critical, as became a student, — and devotional, as became a sinner seeking there the words of eternal life. While, from a sense of dut3% he appUed his mind to the understanding of its doctrines and the solution of its difficulties, he was drawn to it by a desire which nothing else could satisfy
* At s separate meeting on Saturday evening.
hungering for the bread of life. His Bible is now lying before us, and reminds us how richlj the “Word of €h)d dwelt in him. We find a pleasure in exploring the Bible that has belonged to a devoted Scripture student It is not merely because it has been the chosen companion of a saint now at rest with God; but because it has many traits of character and little incidents of history to tell. There is a sort of oryctology connected with it — organic remains, which, like the fossik on a larger scale, tell more than meets the eye at first. Turning over the leaves of an old Bible, we have tried to draw inferences from the sprig of thjrme, or the hawthorn blossom, or the May-flies entombed between its leaves. We have formed conjectures of the season of the year, and the likely place where that Bible has been read; and have found our way back to summer evenings, and sequestered spots consecrated by meditation on the Word of God. Mr Halley’s Bible is a common school copy, and the state in which he has left it, after manifold perusal, gives incidental illustration of some minor points of his character. Though it had been the most costly edition, greater care could not have been taken to preserve the pages smooth and unsullied. There is not a single comer folded or dog-eared. But almost every page is studded with delicate markings of the pencil or the pen, with frequent annotations in a very small but legible handwriting. In studjring the Scriptures, his object was to master the meaning of every sentence, and the coherence of every paragraph. Accordingly, the page is frequently interlined with more exact renderings of the original, and brief explanatory glosses. He sought to be so mighty in the Scriptures, that no gainsayer or heretic should ever disturb him; and that no inquirer should leare him with his difficulties unresolyed. At the same time, he searched the Scriptures to find food for his own soul, and every passage is marked which, in the perusal, had brought him clearer light, or ministered consolation. A favourite exercise, and one for which his tenacious memory gave him singular advantages, was to search out the texts that bear on some given doctrine or duty. In this pursuit, he refused the aid of Concordances and marginal references — the passages collected and written down being all the result of his own industry. Perhaps to this employment he was partly stimulated by the well-known pleasure which men find in exercising a faculty strongly developed. Doubtless he found a gratification in feats of memory; but the field for its exertion was chosen by the controlling presence of that new taste, which neither flesh nor blood had given him, but his Father in heaven. The simple ^Vord of Truth was sweet, and he found satisfaction in amassing stores of it.
Several of these accumulations of texts on particular subjects have been preserved. Some of them are in a very exact logical order; others are left in the process of collection under a few general heads. We shall giro some account of one of these, drawn up at Madeira, and extending to a considerable length. The subject is oiffliction. It is introduced by a short preface vmtten in Greek, and dated Funchal, December 1, 1837- The substance of the preface is an acknowledgment of distinguishing mercies to himself, a dedication of all to the service of God in the Gospel, and a prayer. The titles of the several divisions are written veiy happily in Greek, and the texts marked below — a few of the first words of each being written out to indicate its import. The texts are numerous, some of the heads occupying several pages. We shall give the titles (subjoining a literal translation), with the first two texts under each. A few of them have English mottoes. He does not seem to hare determined the order, as no numerals are attached. We present them as they are found in the book.
1. A Christian without affliction is only like a soldief
on parade. — Felix Neff.
‘H BXi’^ig — on ovx airofvyriroy.
. ( Affliction — that it cannot be avoided.)
€ren. iii. 17. — In sorrow shalt thou eat.
Job V. 6, 7. — Although affliction, &c.
2. Tiy tfX,”^/fftiff — a/r/a, xat iarfyg.
(Of affliction — the cauie, an worker.) Rom. vi. 23. — The wages of sin is death. Psal. lxvi. 10, 11. — Thou oh Grod hast proved us.
3. Tijff tfXi’sJ/gwff — rsXog (gv r 0gou vofj/tiari).
(Of affliction — the end (in the intention of God.))
Psal. xciv. 12, 13. — Blessed is the man whom thou chastenest, &c.
1 Cor. xi. 32. — But when we are judged we are chastened, &c.
(Of affliction — the fruit (in saints produced.))
Psal. cxix. 67. — Before I was afflicted, &c.
Psal. cxix. 71* — It is good for me that I have been, &c.
5. Ev tfX,”sJ/g, — ug ovrtva tdsiv opuXo/isv.
(In affliction — to whom we must look.) Psal. xlvi. 1. — God is our refuge and strength, Ac. Psal. lvii. 1. — In the shadow of thy wings will I make my refuge, &.c.
6. Why should a living man complain? A sinner has
no right; a saint no reason, — Johk Newton.
STUDY OP SCRIFTtTRE — AFFLICTION. 343
TtjF 6X1-^ tv — 6’jrug (pssiv hit,
( AlBictloil — how it is necestsary to bear it.)
Heb. xii. 5, 6. — My son despise not, &c.y — nor faint.
Prov. iii. 1 1, 12. — My son despise not — neither be weary.
7. Bx TTii d’Ki’^Kai — aopuya/.
( Out of affliction — escapes. )
Psal. xviii. 16. — He sent from above and took me, &c. Psal. XXX. 2. — Oh Lord my God, I cried unto thee, and thou hast, &c.
8. T^jy tfX/4//y — gxpuyovra, o,r, bit troteiv.
(Affliction — having escaped from it, what you must do.) Psal. lxi. 13. — I will pay my vows, which my lips, &c. Psal. xxii. 22-25. — I will declare thy name, &c.
9. Ev Tfi ^X/y/g, — ivat aytCfjv,
(In affliction — prayers of saints.)
Psal. cii. 24. — I said, O my God, take me not, &c. PsaJ. xxii. 11. — Be not far off, for trouble is near, &c.
10. Totg ^XiZofifivotg — sfxayye’ktat.
(To the afflicted — promises.) Psal. xxviii. 14. — Wait on the Lord, be of good, &c. Isa. xxvi. 3, 4. — Thou wilt keep — trust ye, &c.
11. *H ^X/4”S — *epi oktyoyyovtov,
( Affliction — that it is of short diuration.)
Psal. XXX. 5. — His anger endureth, &c.: weeping may
endure, &c. Isa. liv. 7. — For a small moment have I forsaken thee.
12. Axgtf/^ara r ^oCw rou davarou.
(Cares for the fear of death.) Isa. XXV. 8. — He will swallow up death in victory. Isa. xxvi. 19. — Thy dead men — awake and sing.
13. The Loi-d save us from the greatest of all afflictions — an affliction lost. — Bridges.
OXz-vJ/zj — ayaicog,
( Affliction — unfruitful.)
Jer. ii. 30. — In vain have I smitten your children, &c. Isa. xxvi. 11. — Lord, when thy hand is lifted up, they mill not see.
The Bible to which we have referred, bears testi* mony to another and an earlier taste. It contans many illustrations and parallel expressions from the classics. He had purposely left behind him, when he went to Madeira, all his Greek and Latin books; but the treasures of their language were laid up in his memory, and ready on every occasion to be applied. In his devotional, as well as critical reading of the New Testament, he preferred the original. In the Old Testament, when not engaged in critical inquiry, he employed the translation.
We conclude the notice of his scriptural studies, with the motto inscribed on the fly-leaf of his Elnglish Bible. ‘With what a mixture of fear, reverence, and holy joy should we open the Bible! the book of truth and happiness! God’s heart opened to man; and yet the whole, and every part of it secreted from him, and hid under an impenetrable veil, till he opens his heart to God! Tho. Adam.’
Mr Halley was eminently a man of prayer. What we speak of is not merely that he possessed in a high degree the gift of prayer, and that, in point of fact, he very frequently exercised it. We would have the reader to observe that prayer with him was a real asking of things that he needed, in the belief that in this way they would be obtained. He prayed much — very much; but it was not because he spurred himself up to his duty; it was a yielding to an irrepressible desire. It was not the calculation of a dictated orthodoxy, ‘I must pray ;* it was the simple fiUal trust imparted by the Spirit in his regenerating work, ‘I am in need — God is in Christ the hearer of prayer, I will cry to him.’ As an evidence of his belief in the efficacy of prayer, the reader will remem-I ber how frequently and how eagerly he applied for a place in the prayers of others. The desire pervaded his mind; he did not need to call it to remembrance. It was habitually present; and it comes out wherever an occasion is offered, in something equivalent to the apostle s fervent appeal, ‘Brethren, pray for us.’ Looking to the number and the form of these requests, and the manner in which they protrude themselves in his letters, whatever the subject be, we think they give indication that they proceed irom one who really has an ’ expectation from the Lord.’ We have before us now a very remarkable manuscript, which throws much light on his devotional habits. We are informed, that during his residence in Madeira, he kept it always in his Bible. It seems to have been his manual of devotion; and a very unique prayer-book it is. It consists of four octavo pages, closely written over in Greek. The characters are very minute, and it contains a great amount of matter. By employing the Greek he contrives to put many things in a very short space, and also to throw a veil of secrecy over the sanctuary of his devotions. After his death, when his sister got possession of the document, she presented it to one of his friends, eagerly asking What is that? ’ adding, he had it always in his hands.’ It contains an immense accumulation of topics, set down evidently for the purpose of aiding his memory in prayer. They are arranged under four heads, with the following titles: —
1. A/ ifiat ctfianat — :xara rag evroXag reray/titvat,
(My sins — set in order against the commandments.)
2. A/ 6Viye<ftat Bsou *7rog b/mb rov a/yaruXov’ ‘rXuove
ri xar av&^dyiroy atd/ielv,
(The mercies of God to me the sinner; more than can be numbered in the language of men. )
Y
(Things thmt add to the weight of my sins.)
(Things that demand the moat of my pray en.)
Under the ^rst head there are ten separate lists of sins, arranged according to the order of the commandments. Many of the things noted give evidence of great tenderness of conscience, and’ a yefy enlightened view of the depth and spirituality of the law of Giod. We can recognise allusions to several even of bis life, which came under our notice at the time. We hare found it very instructive to observe from this paper what view he took of them in his nearest approaches to God, and in prospect of eternity. For example, certain quarrels which we remember well, arising out of disputed questions at college, are set down as sins to be confessed. The thing noted, is the anger into which on these occasions he was betrayed. They are placed under the sixth commandment. In some cases the names of the parties are written in full; in others, only the initials. The second head, beginning, B§6ravvog yiviCf xat B^sravvm ^xojrog x. r. X. contains the materials of thanksgiving. The enume* ration of blessings is very full. The expressions are always brief; sometimes elegant. It includes a very long catalogue of the names of his friends; generally specifying some characteristic of each, which was beneficial to him. The third is a list of peculiar aggravations. The fourth specifies things to be most frequently asked for in prayer. The first part of it is occupied with wants that more immediately concern himself, such as, ‘To possess my soul in patience — to know my adoption — a peaceful departure.’ The latter s
portion contains another list of his friends, for whom he was in the habit of praying by name.
* Behold he prays.’ This mark of the new creature certainly appeared conspicuous in Mr Halley, from the time that he was first brought to a knowledge of the truth.
Another thing which the reader must have marked as a prominent feature of his religious character, is a frequent self-examination carried to an extraordinary degree of minuteness — a consequent despondency as to his spiritual state — and a writing of bitter things against himself. Closely connected with this, was his practice of binding himself by solemn resolutions, consecrated by prayer, to a certain line of conduct — and then making bitter reflections on discovering his shortcomings. In these points we humbly think he fell into error; but on examining his manuscripts, we find it* would be very difficult to point out where the error lay. We do not find, from any of the lengthened records of his self-examination, that he was theologically wrong. Throughout them all his mind is clear on the doctrine of justification by the free grace of €h)d. Always when he is seeking into his own heart, he has a correct and distinct conception of what should be sought there. He never loses sight of the truth, that a sinner must look to Christ for all his salvation. We cannot detect error in any of his examinations or covenants. On the contrary, a remarkably clear conception of the covenant of grace runs through them all. We apprehend the difficulty must be solved in this way. It had been given him to know the Gospel — to receive Christ his Saviour. By the teaching and power of the Holy Spirit, he had been delivered
3i8 MEMom OF JAMBS HALLEY.
from seeking jostificaon bj the works of the law, and made willing to submit to the righteousness of faith. Having learned the truth, and receired it, he was kept from falling. He held fast the beginning of his confidence firm unto the end. But he did not lire up to his privileges; he did not walk wisely for his own comfort. Practicallj, too much, of his time and eneigj was given to looking in upon bis own heart, and too little to looking out unto Jesus. It is not that he was wrong, either when he looked inward upon himself, or when he looked outward upon the Saviour. He was right in both. When he looked to himself, he sought only for what should be found there, — evidence of his own sinfulness, and the marks of a living faith. When he looked to the Saviour, he gave Him the honour due — he looked to Christ as all his salvation. The error laj not in this exercise, or in that; but in a wrong apportioning of the two. He did not search his own heart for what was not to be found there; but searched it comparatively too much. He did not look unto Jesus with a wrong conception of his person and office; but looked to Him comparatively not enough. We are willing to confess that he ensnared himself in these examinations; but we are anxious to show that not one of these was in itself wrong. We can see a want of wisdom in his practice, which actually diminished his peace; but no error in his faith that could endanger his safety.
One other peculiarity of Mr Halley’s faith we recall to the reader s remembrance — his habitual strong desure for assurance of his own peace with God. On this subject we do not venture to enlarge. We have done our duty, however, in placing upon record, again
HIS S^ESIRE TO ATTAIN ASSURANCE. 349
imd again, Mr Halley’s views and desires in regard to it. From the period of his residence in Edinhurgh, his friends observed that this desire had been formed, and had taken firm possession of his mind. It is first developed in a letter written in the summer of 1837.’*’ From that time forward it occupied much of his thoughts. It was always in his own prayer; and always formed part of instructions to friends, when he condescended on particulars in asking theirs. Latterly, without at all losing the desire, or checking the prayer, he began to fear that he had sinned in seeking too eagerly his own peace, instead of simply looking to Jesus, and waiting upon the Lord. To the last he never woidd say in so many words that he had attained the object of his desire; hut on several occasions he said or wrote what was equivalent. On the occasion of the hursting of a hlood- vessel in his lungs, when he thought his departure was near, he records it thankfully, that he trusted in Christ, and ’ felt no fear.’ In the list of blessings which constituted the materials of his song of praise, one is oKtyr ouavov ilmg — some hope of heaven.’ Towards the dose of his days there were many expressions which, taking into account his extreme caution on these subjects, his friends accounted equivalent to a good hope through grace — a hope that his life was hid with Christ in God. One thing is certain, his faith failed not. He who in sovereignty saw meet to keep a cloud between his own countenance and the uplifted eye of his servant, graciously preserved from fainting that servant’s soul, and so strengthened his faith, that it held by the Saviour to the last without the aid of joyous emotion.
Page 107.
350 MEXOm OP JAMEB HAIUnT.
The word that lingered Litest on his dying lips was, Qod with OB.’ The change came, and he was with God.
And now that we haTe endeaYonred to mark some of the graces that appeared in a bdiever s life, let no one mistake our meaning, or misrepresent our design. We haTe not tried to make a man righteous. We haye not tried to present a portrait of misollied Tirtiie. We hare hegmi and carried on our delineations on the assumption that the subject of them was originally and practically deformed by sin; and we haye been pointing to the work of the Lord in subduing the power of evil, and imparting here and there features of life to one who had been dead. We haye not been depicting his sins so minutely as his graces. Bat. our design in thb was not to represent him faultless. Our object was neither to magnify his good nor his evil; but to show the ’ work of the Lord ’ in making many things beauteous where all had been deformity — in causing trees of righteousness to grow and flourish in a barren land. So far from denying that there was evil in the soid of our departed friend, we confess, as he did, that all was eviL In him dwelt no good thing. We haye shown “that some good things were put in — and shown, too, that the good things were tle planting of the Lord, that He may be glorified.’