OF THE REFORMED DUTCH CHURCH. VOL. II. ] DECEMBER, 1827. [ NO. 9. Religious Communications. THEOPHILUS. A Memoir. Theophilus, the subject of the following memoir, was the youngest of a large family who lived in moderate circumstances, in the country. His parents, while he was yet a child, had formed the resolution of giving him a liberal education. In this they were confirmed by the early indications of capacity exhibited by Theophilus, who discovered an uncommon degree of readiness and ardor in acquiring the elements of an English education.These, together with a general knowledge of history, he had acquired when in his twelfth year; and, in the mean time, he had inured his body to vigorous exertion in the labours of the farm. His youthful sensibilities were of ten powerfully touched by those sublime and affecting narratives which he read in the Holy Bible. And a taste for reading being thus formed, he sought eagerly for gratification in the pages of Rollin, Goldsmith, and such other authors as fell in his way. step, afforded him a delight, though scarcely conscious of the sources whence it sprung, with which young people who are enervated by too much indulgence, must ever remain unacquainted. At the Academy he found a state of things altogether different from what he had expected. The pupils, with but few exceptions, were profane, and filthy in their conversation; saucy and impertinent in their manners, and indolent and inattentive to their studies. Such, indeed, is too often the character of young persons brought up in towns, and country villages,-an evil which arises from a neglect of discipline, and instruction on the part of the parents, The and from a want of some convenient About this time Theophilus was sent to an Academy, which was opened in a country village, about four miles distant, where, notwithstanding the distance, he never failed to attend with punctuality. Sprightly, active, and enterprising, the exertion of walking so far seemed rather a pleasure than a toil. The freshness of the morning air, the music of the birds, the ever changing aspect of the heavens, and the varieties of meadow, wood, and field, through which, in going and returning from school, he pas-pany because it was disagreeable; and sed, with cheerful heart, and nimble they had no occasion to seek his, ex Between Theophilus and youths of this description there could exist no cordiality of feeling. They were contemptible in his eyes, for their frivolity and superciliousness, and odious for their vices. While, through a mistake quite natural on their part, the innocent simplicity and unassuming plainness of Theophilus were ascribed by them to a want of spirit. Hence there was but little intercourse between them. He shunned their com science, it is not possible to be miserable; nor can that be considered a triumph, which is gained over innocence by falsehood and villainy.Theophilus wept when he found himself arraigned, not so much from an apprehension of the suffering which he feared, as at the idea of losing the esteem of a teacher whom he loved. Such conduct was, perhaps, excusable or even laudable, in a boy; as it manifested a kind of sensibility, which is a sure sign of a generous nature. But in a person of more experience, it would scarcely have been excusable. To be greatly disturbed under imputations which he knows to be malicious and unfounded, is unworthy of the charac time beyond the age of puberty, and obtained some acquaintance with human nature, and the ordinary course of events in life. Calumny, usually, does no lasting injury to any but the calumniator himself. And the sentiment contained in the following line from the great Roman satyrist, if it is not universally and unqualifiedly just, is at least striking, and manifests a deep insight into human nature. cept when they came to some difficult piece of Latin, which they wished him to construe. Theophilus could not but be pleased with such a tacit acknowledgement of his superiority, as cases of this kind, which occurred not unfrequently, obviously implied. They affected, indeed, generally, to treat him with neglect if not with contempt, but, in spite of all their efforts to conceal it, Theophilus could not but observe that he was the object of a very different passion,-envy, which the worthless always feel towards that excellence which they are too corrupt, or too indolent to imitate. This base passion broke forth in some instances into persecution and outrage. One of these it may not be im-ter of one who has lived for some proper to specify. On his observing, one day, a piece of behaviour in two of the students which was grossly indecorous, T gave vent to his disapprobation, and disgust in a mild but pungent reproof. They conceived themselves insulted, and threatened vengeance. He made no reply, but waited, not without some apprehension, to see in what manner the threat was to be executed On the ensuing Saturday, which was the day of the week, when the offences of the preceding days were investigated and punished by the teachers, T. found himself arraigned on a charge brought against him by one of these individuals, supported by the other as a witness. The charge was utterly unfounded, but the testimony was positive; and the symptoms of feeling which young T. exhibited, were probably considered by the teacher, who always punished with severity, as an evidence of guilt. He was therefore ordered to prepare for the usual penalty in such cases, a sound flagellation with the cowhide. It was not inflicted however, owing to the teacher's good opinion of the general character, and conduct of Theophilus.-Had it been inflicted, however, he would have been far more happy than his accusers. For, with a good con "Mendax infamia terret-quem? Nisi mendacem et mendosum?"-HOR. Not long after the occurrence just mentioned, the teacher, becoming ti red of a disagreeable employment in a situation where so few were likely to be profited by his instructions and discipline, left it, and the institution fell through. And T. not having the means of supporting himself abroad at college, and not willing to receive gratuitous assistance, had recource to teaching. And after procuring something in this way, he went to college, where he remained till his funds were exhausted. Thus he continued, alternately learning and teaching, till his college education was completed.During this period, a variety of incidents occurred which need not here be detailed. Suffice it to say, that while at college, T. continued in the same honourable course which he had begun, being always remarkable for a kind and respectful deportment towards his teachers; punctual in the performance of his duties, first in his class, and consequently always honoured as the one who should take charge of the classes in his department, in the absence of his teacher. There was one scene, however, in this part of the life of T., which, for the sake of the juvenile reader it may be more necessary to mention. Xenophon has remarked that the age of puberty is that which especially needs care. In this period the imagination is glowing and romantic, the passions fervid, and the heart in the highest degree susceptible. The delusions of hope, and the wildness of desire, have not been checked and chastened by the lessons of experience. The world is yet new, and appears, in the eye of the youthful adventurer, like himself, fresh, and gay, and guileless. The mind is now in danger, by the impulse of a certain passion, to be thrown into a state of delirium; and what renders the case so critical is, that under the influence of this delirium, it may strike out into a course which may be decisive of its future character and fate. That passion is love. By it T. had well nigh been undone. And let the student who reads this tract, beware.The happiness of a whole life is not to be sported with, and the happiness of a whole life depends, in more instances than you are aware of, on the conduct of persons in this dangerous and critical period. The student here is particularly exposed. Books have diverted his observation from real life, and he is, therefore now liable to be imposed upon by its objects. His habits of seclusion, also, subject him to peculiar disadvantage in a contest with the enemy. Let him beware how he permits himself to be imposed upon and ensnared, by the wiles of any one of those trifling, insignificant beings whose whole thoughts are engrossed by novels, dress, love, and coquetry. What avails a fine com plexion, a graceful movement, a form of symmetry, where there are none of those qualities which Paul and Solomon commends in a "virtuous woman?" Again I say, let the student beware how he suffers himself to be driven, by a blind and foolish passion, into such a situation that, to extricate himself from it, he must falsify his professions, or become united for life with one whose mind is as puny as her constitution; whose extravagance must exhaust his purse, and her temper his patience; whose imprudence will hang a dead weight upon his influence; and whose affectation, vanity, and love of display will, at length, change his affection into suspicion and disgust; and who, to complete his misery, will be incapable of affording him the least assistance under those multiplied calamities which her conduct will have brought upon him. It may reasonably be conjectured that it was to represent such a case as this, that the ancients invented the fable of Pandora. To render her the most charming creature imaginable-the very prototype of that ideal goddess which the crazy lover has ever before his eyes, each of the gods contributed something. Thus furnished, she was sent as a present to her fond admirer Prometheus. Unhappy man! the day that brought her to him, and which was to consummate his happiness, was but the commencement of his woes. He found hope indeed at the bottom of her casket, and this will be all the comforter the deluded and admiring lover will find, when a better acquaintance shall have discovered to him the true character of his Pandora. There is no occurrence in human life when the counsels of a friend, who has learned wisdom byage and experience, are more needed than the one just mentioned. What had been the fate of the young Telemachus, when beset by Calypso and her nymphs, had he not enjoyed, at the same time, the advice of the sage Mentor? This, however, was an advantage which Theophilus did not, in the time of danger, enjoy. But his mind had been well stored with the truths, and precepts of the Bible, and to this circumstance he was indebted for his preservation from a gulph into which so many have been precipitated. "By what means shall a young man cleanse his way? By giving heed thereto according to thy word." Youthful reader! you may perhaps think it strange that pious people, who are further advanced in years than yourself, should feel so much concern on your account. It is because they love you, and know by experience, the dangers to which you are exposed. They look forward but a few years, and see the world peopled, and its affairs managed by you, and those who, like you, are now in the morning of life. And they feel intensely desirous that the character of the coming age, that is to say, the character of you, and those who are to act and suffer with you on life's busy stage, should not be worse, but better than that which preceded it. And as it respects yourself; would you not, if about to set out on a strange and perilous journey, be anxious to obtain directions from those who had travelled it before you? And, are you not actually on such a journey, and even now, on the most critical and dangerous part of it? One false step may ruin you for ever. Oh! then be cautious how you go, with whom you go, in what direction you go, and in whose guidance you confide. The profligate himself, who is just about to close his sad career, would not dare to advise you to walk in his steps. Though Theophilus had been preserved free from any thing grossly vicious, he became, by serious reflection on the word of God, and the state of his own heart, convinced that, in the sight of God, he was a sinner, guilty, helpless, and in himself, utterly undone. Under this conviction he remained for about four years "labouring and heavy laden;" sometimes spending whole days in fasting, me ditation and prayer. At length, a pow erful manifestation of God, as he is in Christ reconciling the world unto himself, was made to his mind; and he was enabled with inexpressible joy to choose him as his everlasting portion. Some time after, he, formally-though by himself in private, gave himself away to God; and by a solemn vow, in dependence on divine aid, devoted himself unreservedly to his service. Soon after, he did the same, by a public profession. During the whole course of his education T. had, by degrees made himself acquainted with all the infide! writings which fell in his way, carefully weighing them, with the arguments, in the opposite scale. The result was, that he felt perfectly con vinced of the truth of the Christian system. With this conviction, there was blended an unwarrantable degree of confidence, founded on the strength of his own reasoning powers merely, without a just sense of his dependence, for correct views and impressions of divine truth, on the "Father of light, from whom cometh down every good and perfect gift." There was mingled with his faith in the truth of a divine revelation, a pride of philosophy, which rendered him, in his own view, perfectly able, by the mere force of reason, to triumph over all the suggestions of the spirit of infidelity.-But, soon after taking his degree, this presumptuous confidence was dissipated, by the force of a temptation, which served effectually to humble his pride, convince him of his weakness, and show him, by actual experience, the necessity of having the heart right, and the conscience pure, in order to preserve the understanding clear, and vigorous on the subject of religion. Having engaged in the study of Theology, under the direction of a clergyman of his acquaintance, he had an opportunity of viewing the difficulties of the ministerial office, in an example exhibited constantly before his These difficulties, always great, were peculiarly so, in the circumstances in which that clergyman was then placed. In the duties of the sacred office he was laborious and diligent, even beyond what his strength, or, indeed, that of any other man could long be able to endure. Notwithstanding his devotedness to the service of his Divine Master, in labouring to promote the spiritual interest of the people of his charge, they seemed to be under the influence, to a degree not often witnessed even among mere nominal christians, of a spirit of faction, turbulence, and infatuation, which was continually seeking for occasion of venting itself against the meek and devoted man, whom they were bound, by every consideration of gratitude, duty and interest, to cherish, and venerate, as their spiritual instructor. Instead of this, while they were rolling in wealth, they suffered him to languish in poverty, labouring with his hands to obtain the necessaries of life for himself and family. Nor was this the worst,—for a combination of aspiring, ignorant, and conceited men, who wished to have their influence acknowledged in church affairs, contrived, by incessant misrepresentations, and under various pretences, to alienate the confidence, and affections of the people from their pastor, and in many instances with too much success, as those, who were led by them were afterwards, (when it was too late to retrieve the consequences of their credulity and ingratitude,) compelled to acknowledge. These things, in the mean time, made a powerful impression on the mind of T. He said within himself, such treatment is a protracted martydom, too much for human nature to endure. Poverty I expect ed to find in the sacred office, but, surely, the manifestation of such a spirit of rudeness, insensibility, waywardness, and ingratitude, on the part of professing christians, was not to be expected. I cannot consent, with such prospects, to be a preacher. To this it seemed as though a voice replied, "But you cannot draw back. You are not destitute of qualifications for the sacred office. Providence has led you in the way to it. Woe be unto you if you preach not the gospel.". The thought occurred, "but if the gospel be a fable, then I am free to choose some other profession." This suggestion, when first darted into the mind, met not with that instant and indignant repulse, which it deserved. It recurred again and again, and at each successive time, with additional force, till, at length, T. being left, that he might learn by experience that his strength was but weakness, and his wisdom folly, was prostrated before the temptation. All the infidel arguments, cavils, sneers, blasphemies, which, written or spoken, he had ever met with, were, like so many fiery darts from the wicked one, hurled, with violence and fury, into his mind. He became like one lost and benighted in the midst of a howling wilderness. Nor sun nor stars appeared. Thick, palpable darkness seemed to enclose him round, and shut out every ray of comfort. There was no mercyseat in view-no prospect of peace on earth-none of rest in heaven. "On the night of the grave" no morning appeared to dawn. The agitation of his mind became extreme. The subject of his distress engrossed all his thoughts. The external senses ceased to convey any impressions to the mind. He read; but his eyes wandered idly from line to line down the page, while not a single idea caught his attention. He attended on the ministrations of the word, but he heard not; so great was the tumult within! He felt, at length, his thoughts turned powerfully to an inquiry into the cause of these inward troubles, and became perfectly convinced that it was his guilty attempt, like Jonah, to escape from the performance of a disagreeable duty.Overcome by his feelings of horror |