of Rome; and at the present crisis, I must further confess, that they appear to me not only unjust, but indiscreet, and even inhuman. Let me remind the accusers of Mr. Hall, that, in the estimation of Lord Bacon, "divisions in religion, if they be many, introduce atheism;" "that there is a superstition in avoiding superstition, when men think they do best by going farthest from what they think the superstition formerly received; and, therefore, care should be had that the good be not taken away with the bad, which commonly is done when the people is the reformer." Among those who censure Mr. Hail, there may be thoughtless and injudicious persons, who often repeat the witty and decisive answer of Sir Henry Wotton to the priest, who asked, "Where was your religion to be found before Luther?" Let me then recall to their memory the advice which Sir Henry gave to one whose earnestness exceeded his knowledge, and who was perpetually railing against the papists: "Pray, sir, forbear, till you have studied the points better; for the wise Italians have this proverb, 'He that understandeth amiss concludes worse; and take heed of thinking, the farther you go from the Church of Rome, the nearer you are to God." To men of sounder judgment and more candid dispositions I would recommend the serious perusal of "Cassandri Consultatio," of Grotius's notes upon it, and his three replies to Rivetus. When they read the "Syllabus Librorum et Epistolarum doctorum aliquot et priorum virorum," in the third volume of Grotius's works, they may cease to think Mr. Hall singular, when he remarks, in his preface, "How trivial, for the most part, are the controversies of Christians with each other!" They may be disposed to join him in his prayer, that "Ephraim may no longer vex Judah, or Judah Ephraim;" and they may be converted to the wise and salutary opinion of Grotius, "Quam non sit difficilis in Religione Conciliatio, si controvertendi studium vitetur """

NOTE C.-[See page 56.]

CHARACTER OF MR. HALL AS A PREACHER.

From the London Magazine, No. XIV. Feb. 1, 1821. Written by the Editor, Mr. John Scott, Author of Visits to Paris, &c.

SOME of them (the dissenting ministers) are, at the present day, exhibiting no ordinary gifts and energies; and to the most distinguished of these we propose to direct the attention of our readers.

Mr. Hall, though perhaps the most distinguished ornament of the Calvinistic* dissenters, does not afford the best opportunity for criticism. His excellence does not consist in the predominance of one of his powers, but in the exquisite proportion and harmony of all. The richness, variety, and extent of his knowledge are not so remarkable as his absolute mastery over it. He moves about in the loftiest sphere of contemplation, as though he were "native and endued to its element." He uses the finest classical allusions, the noblest images, and the most exquisite words, as though they were those which came first to his mind, and which formed his natural dialect. There is not the least appearance of straining after greatness in his most magnificent excursions, but he rises to the loftiest heights with a childlike ease. His style is one of the clearest and simplest-the least encumbered with its own beauty-of any which ever has been written. It is bright and lucid as a mirror, and its most highly-wrought and sparkling embellishments are like ornaments of crystal, which, even in their brilliant inequalities of surface, give back to the eye little pieces of the true imagery set before them.

The works of this great preacher are, in the highest sense of the term, imaginative, as distinguished, not only from the didactic, but from the fanciful. He

* We use this epithet merely as that which will most distinctively characterize the extensive class to which it is applied, well aware that there are shades of difference among them, and that many of them would decline to call themselves after any name but that of Christ.

possesses "the vision and faculty divine," in as high a degree as any of our writers in prose. His noblest passages do but make truth visible in the form of beauty, and "clothe upon" abstract ideas, till they become palpable in exquisite shapes. The dullest writer would not convey the same meaning in so few words as he has done in the most sublime of his illustrations. Imagination, when, like his, of the purest water, is so far from being improperly employed on divine subjects, that it only finds its real objects in the truc and the eternal. This power it is which disdains the scattered elements of beauty, as they appear distinctly in an imperfect world, and strives by accumulation, and by rejecting the alloy cast on all things, to imbody to the mind that ideal beauty which shall be realized hereafter. This, by shedding a consecrating light on all it touches, and "bringing them into one," anticipates the future harmony of creation. This already sees the "soul of goodness in things evil," which shall one day change the evil into its likeness. This already begins the triumph over the separating powers of death and time, and renders their victory doubtful, by making us feel the immortality of the affections. Such is the faculty which is employed by Mr. Hall to its noblest uses. There is no rhetorical flourish, no mere pomp of words, in his most eloquent discourses. With vast excursive power, indeed, he can range through all the glories of the pagan world, and, seizing those traits of beauty which they derived from primeval revelation, restore them to the system of truth. But he is ever best when he is intensest-when he unvails the mighty foundations of the rock of ages—or makes the hearts of his hearers vibrate with a strange joy, which they will recognise in more exalted stages of their being.

Mr. Hall has unfortunately committed but few of his discourses to the press. His sermon on the tendencies of Modern Infidelity, is one of the noblest specimens of his genius. Nothing can be more fearfully sublime than the picture which he gives of the desolate state to which atheism would reduce the world; or more beautiful and triumphant than his vindication of the social affections. His Sermon On the Death of the Princess Charlotte contains a philosophical and eloquent development of the causes which make the sorrows of those who are encircled by the brightest appearances of happiness, peculiarly affecting; and gives an exquisite picture of the gentle victim adorned with sacrificial glories. His Discourses On War-On the Discouragements and Supports of the Christian Minister—and On the Work of the Holy Spirit-are of great and various excellence. But, as our limits will allow only a single extract, we prefer giving the close of a sermon preached in the prospect of the invasion of England by Napoleon, in which he blends the finest remembrance of the antique world-the dearest associations of British patriotism—and the pure spirit of the gospel-in a strain as noble as could be poured out by Tyrtæus.

[The passages quoted are from p. 106-111, vol. i.]

There is nothing very remarkable in Mr. Hall's manner of delivering his sermons. His simplicity, yet solemnity, of deportment engages the attention, but does not promise any of his most rapturous effusions. His voice is feeble but distinct, and as he proceeds trembles beneath his images, and conveys the idea that the spring of sublimity and beauty in his mind is exhaustless, and would pour forth a more copious stream, if it had a wider channel than can be supplied by the bodily organs. The plainest and least inspired of his discourses are not without delicate gleams of imagery, and felicitous turns of expression. He expatiates on the prophecies with a kindred spirit, and affords awful glimpses into the valley of vision. He often seems to conduct his hearers to the top of the "Delectable Mountains," whence they can see from afar the glorious gates of the eternal city, He seems at home among the marvellous revelations of St. John; and while he expatiates on them, leads his hearers breathless through ever-varying scenes of mystery, far more glorious and surprising than the wildest of oriental fables. He stops when they most desire that he should proceed-when he has just disclosed the dawnings of the inmost glory to their enraptured minds,-and leaves them full of imaginations of "things not made with hands"-of joys too ravishing for smiles and of impulses which wing their hearts "along the line of limitless desires."

NOTE D.-[See page 75.]

AN EXTRACT OF A LETTER FROM DR. PRICHARD.

THE following extract of a letter, from Dr. Prichard to Dr. Frederick Thackeray, of Cambridge, describing concisely the results of the post mortem examination, unfolds the cause of Mr. Hall's acute suffering for so many years.

"We found the heart diseased in substance, and the muscular structure soft, and looking like macerated cellular membrane; the left ventricle was judged to be onethird larger than usual. The whole of the aorta was diseased; the internal membrane, in parts where it had not been in contact with blood, of a bright scarlet colour, which increased in deepness, and in the abdominal part of the artery was of a red purple hue. It contained in several places patches of bony matter about the size of a sixpence. This was the case particularly about the origin of the arteria innominata. The lungs were healthy. The kidney on the right side was entirely filed by a large, rough, pointed calculus. There was also an exostosis on the body of the fourth dorsal vertebra, about the third of an inch in height and prominent. This was too high to be the cause of the long-continued pain, which must have arisen from the renal calculus.

"The gall-bladder was quite full of calculi, though he had never experienced any symptoms referring to the liver or biliary secretion.

"Probably no man ever went through more physical suffering than Mr. Hall; he was a fine example of the triumph of the higher powers of mind exalted by religion, over the infirmities of the body. His loss will long be felt in this place, not only by persons of his own communion, but by all that have any esteem for what is truly great and good."

NOTE E.-[See page 75.]

SKETCHES OF MR. HALL'S CHARACTER, ESPECIALLY AS MANIFESTED IN

PRIVATE LIFE.*

MR. HALL seemed to met very remarkable for being always in earnest. He was a perfect contrast to Socrates, who, as you will recollect, was called the ironist, from his constant assumption of a character that did not belong to him. Mr. Hall did not practise the Socratic irony. He never said one thing and meant another. He was earnest even in his wit and humour. It was never his design to impose on any person, and he was entirely free from suspicion. He was artless as a child. A sort of infantine simplicity was conspicuous in many parts of his conduct. With his extraordinary capacity, and a propension for abstract and refined thinking, it was curious and remarkable to observe the interest that he took in the present object. He threw himself entirely into whatever might be the topic of conversation, and seemed altogether engrossed with what pressed on the sense, and solicited immediate attention. It was perhaps owing to this interest in the present object, together with an undecaying vivacity of feeling, that he appeared to enjoy with the keenest relish whatever tended to innocent pleasure. Gratifications that usually give delight only in the earlier periods of life he enjoyed to the very last, as if he had not advanced beyond boyhood.

His powers of conversation were very extraordinary, and discovered quite as great abilities as appeared in his preaching or writings. He seemed equally capable of talking clearly, forcibly, copiously, beautifully, on every subject however common it might be, or however abstruse and remote from the course of general

The great accordance in some striking particulars of these independent sketches of Mr. Hall gives them, in those respects, almost the air of tautology. But I venture to retain the whole, to show in how many essential points, every competent judge formed necessarily the same estimate.

The Rev. William Anderson, classical tutor at the Baptist Education Society.

thought and conversation. He avoided, rather than invited, discourse on those subjects that might have been supposed to be most congenial with the cast and habit of his mind, and the current of his studies and speculations. He never usurped conversation, nor showed any disposition to give it any particular direction. He laid hold of casual topics of every kind, apparently to beguile the time, rather than as the occasions of imparting his knowledge, diffusing his wisdom, or turning them to any serious or practical purpose.

It was impossible to be often with Mr. Hall, and not be struck with the degree of nature that prevailed in all his words and actions, and in the whole of his bearing. Incidents, parts of conversations, that when separated from the circumstances in which they took place have an air of eccentricity and affectation, seemed perfectly natural as they occurred. All easily and spontaneously arose from the structure and usual operation of his mind, and the surrounding circumstances. There was no ain on his part to be singular, no effort to excite surprise, or catch admiration.

A very prominent quality of his mind seemed to be benevolence. He sympathized most deeply with all forms of distress, and endeavoured to afford relief, by suitable suggestions, by the exertions of his talents, and by pecuniary aid to the full extent of his means. It was easy to discern in him a great concern and anxiety to render those that were about him as comfortable as possible, and a visible delight in the pleasure of his friends. Akin to his great benevolence was an unusual sensibility to kindness. Little services, offices of respect and affection, small endeavours to promote his comfort, that would generally be considered as matters of course, even from those whose relation to him made the action a duty, would diffuse a gleam of benignity and satisfaction, and draw forth lively expres sions of gratitude.

Perhaps the character of Mr. Hall's mind* cannot be better described in a single word than by saying that it is perfectly balanced, and combines all the various powers in their highest perfection. If he possessed any one faculty in the same exuberance in which he possesses them all, and in respect to the others were not in the least distinguished, it would be enough to render him an extraordinary man. If he reasons, it is always with strict philosophical accuracy; with a keen, searching glance into the very mysteries of his subject, leaving the reader or hearer often at a loss whether most to admire the light, or the strength, or the depth of his argument; and generally leaving his antagonist to the alternative of quiet submission or of preparing for a still more mortifying defeat. If he comes into the region of taste or imagination, here also he is equally at home. With the same apparent ease that his mind can frame a powerful argument, it will pour forth images of exquisite beauty and tenderness, as well as of overwhelming majesty and strength. In short, there is no part of the intellectual world in which he does not seem to breathe freely, as if it were his peculiar element. He is at home as far below the surface of things, as far down in the depths of metaphysical abstraction, as perhaps any mind ever penetrates. He is at home amid the common-sense realities of life, judging of men and things with as much accuracy as if the whole business of his life had been to watch and analyze the operations of the human heart. He is at home in the field of fancy, in worlds of his own creation: and he can find in the mountain and in the valley, in the ocean and the sky, in the storm and the lightning, in every thing in the kingdom of nature and providence, a field where his imagination may expatiate with unlimited power. His acquisitions correspond, in a good degree, to his original endowments. It were not to be expected, indeed it were not possible, that he could have gone extensively into every department of science and learning, in which his great and versatile mind would have enabled him to become pre-eminent; we suppose his favourite studies to have been the science of morals and theology, though he has

From the Rev. Dr. Sprague, of Albany, New-York, author of a most interesting and instructive volume on "Revivals of Religion" in America. This gentleman, when in England in 1828. spent some time at Bristol. The account from which I select the above passage was written before Mr. Hall's death.

shown himself deeply versed in political economy, and the various branches of polite literature. His knowledge of the ancient and modern classics is extensive and exact; and if we mistake not, they make part of his every-day reading, even at this advanced period of life.

We remember to have been equally delighted and astonished at hearing him converse for an hour upon the philosophy of language, in a style which discovered a degree of reflection and research, from which one might have supposed that it was not only a favourite topic, but that he had made it the study of his life.

It were naturally to be expected, an intellect of such uncommon strength should be associated with a corresponding strength of feeling. This is true, in respect to Mr. Hall; and it is no doubt to the power of his feelings that the world is indebted for some of the most brilliant and useful of his efforts. A man of dull temperament, let his intellect be what it might, could never produce those fine strains of soul-stirring eloquence, in which it is the privilege of Mr. Hall to pour out even his common thoughts. But with all the strength of his feelings, his heart is full of kindness and affection. In all his intercourse he is noble and generous. His attachments are strong and enduring. He is open and honest in respect to every thing and everybody. As no one can approach him without a deep feeling of respect, so no one can be admitted to the hospitality of his fireside and the privilege of his friendship, without finding that the sentiment of respect is fast ripening into that of cordial and affectionate attachment.

In private conversation Mr. Hall is the admiration and delight of every circle in which he mingles He converses a great deal, partly because when his mind is excited it is not easy for him to be silent, and partly because there is so much in his conversation to interest and edify, that almost every one who is in his company regards it as a privilege to listen rather than talk, and acts accordingly. We have been struck with the fact, that, let the conversation turn upon whatever subject it may, even though it be a subject on which he might be expected to be least at home, he is equally ready, equally eloquent. He possesses, beyond any man we have known, the faculty of bringing facts and principles which are stored up in his mind instantly to bear upon any given subject; throwing around it at once, to the mind of the hearer, the clear strong light in which it appears to his own. This must be owing partly to the original power which he possesses of discerning almost intuitively even the most remote relations of things to each other, and partly to the perfect order with which all his intellectual acquisitions are arranged. In the midst of an involved discussion, he will bring to his aid insulated facts from the various departments of knowledge, without the least hesitation or effort, just as we have known some men who had a remarkable attachment to order, able to enter their library, and lay their hand on any book at pleasure in the dark. But, notwithstanding he converses so much, there is not the semblance of an obtrusive or ostentatious manner,-nothing that seems to say that he is thinking of his own superiority; on the contrary, he seems to forget, and sometimes makes those around him forget, the greatness of the man, in the greatness which he throws around his subject. He has a strong passion for sarcasm, which often comes out in his conversation, and sometimes with prodigious effect. He is, however, by no means severe in the common estimate which he forms of character; so far from it, that he treats characters for the most part with unusual lenity, and sometimes seems delighted with exhibitions of intellect from others, which would have appeared to every one else far below the most common place efforts of his own mind.

In his converse, as well as in his ministrations, no one could avoid being struck by a certain naturalness and simplicity peculiar to himself, and rendered the more remarkable and engaging by its union with such consummate intelligence and eloquence. His companion or hearer was alike surprised and charmed by the harmonious contrast of excellences, so dissimilar, yet in him so perfectly combined. In all that he uttered, whether in social or sacred discourse, there was a vivid

* Communicated by the Rev. Thomas Grinfield, A.M., of Clifton.