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which they are invested, does not extend, and ought not to extend, to the command of the religious opinions of their subjects. They have respected, they have protected, the national religions. This was their duty as governors, and they have performed it. But this duty was not contrary to their duty, as men and as Christians, of enlightening their subjects, raising them gently to a purer religion, and preserving them, by public authority, from actions contrary to all morality, to all progress in civilization, which the law has always a right to repress. The English are now animated by a religious zeal, an ardour for proselytism, which has no parallel in their own history, or in that of other nations. The consequence is, that even their language is seldom free from that affectation of devotion which is called cant, and which sometimes excites distrust. Nevertheless, this national feeling is completely stifled by the interest which it is believed the India Company has in preventing the progress of civilization and the development of the minds of its subjects. When Mr. Wilberforce proposed, in 1813, to Parliament to endeavour to introduce Christianity into India, as a source of other ameliorations, Mr. Marsh, who undertook to refute him, and to shew the danger of the introduction of Christianity, insisted particularly "upon the advantage of the institution of castes to repress the restlessness of ambition and the impatience at obedience." Mr. Charles Grant, who, in concert with his brother, Mr. Robert Grant, has shewn himself one of the most skilful and constant apologists for the India Company, is not less explicit in his desire to preserve the religion of the Hindoos; to preserve also, by its means, that part of the system which prevents most efficaciously all progress of civilization, all enlargement of the mind. "The institution of castes," says he, "constitutes a source of security for the permanence of our government in the East Indies which cannot be equalled in the history of the world; and as it is not probable that mankind will ever see such another phenomenon, it would be a great pity were we to take measures which might destroy it prematurely. Here the maxim which all

politicians maintain, divide et impera, has been established in practice and consecrated by the hand of time." Such is the theory of men in power, and their practice is conformed to it. They continue to permit, if not to favour, the sacrifice of widows upon the funeral pile, with the dreadful accompaniments which have very lately occupied the public attention. Five or six hundred women are the victims every year in British India, of an odious rite, which the civil government may and ought to prosecute as a murder. A glorious reforın has, however, begun to spread among the Hindoos. A Bramin, whom those who know India agree in representing as one of the most virtuous and enlightened of men, RAMMOHUN ROY, is exerting himself to restore his countrymen to the worship of the true God, and to the union of morality and religion. His flock is small, but increases continually. He communicates to the Hindoos all the progress that thought has made amongst the Europeans. He is among them, by a much juster title than the Missionaries, the true Apostle of Christianity. He had undertaken a periodical publication in his native tongue, not with any views of interest, to which his large fortune makes him a stranger, but to extend the doctrines of civilization. He was encouraged in this noble undertaking by the last Governor of India, the Marquis of Hastings; but in the month of April 1823, Mr. Adam, the new (pro tempore) Governor-General, in concert with the Judge of Calcutta, Macnaghten, suppressed all liberty of the press, and obliged the illustrious RAMMOHUN Roy to renounce his journal.

SIR,

vention and improvement, changes N this day of scientific discovery, inare insensibly taking place of which we are scarcely aware. I have sometimes amused myself with thinking how many of the common-places of eloquence are thus, one after another, taken away. Many a simile and many a trope which once figured in the pages of the learned, are now abandoned to the humblest class of writers, and will soon be found (thanks to Mechanics' Institutes and similar esta

blishments, together with the cheap press) unfit even for them. New and philosophical images may indeed be started; Dugald Stewart has led the way in this course of eloquence; but it requires great delicacy of conception and felicity of language to pre serve such figures from the appearance of pedantry on the one side, and of vulgarity on the other. It can only be by some happy artifice that we are led to connect elegance with the steam-engine, the gasometer or the spinning-jenny. The present oratorical Secretary of State for the Home Department never drew a figure, what ever money he may have derived, from the last-named manufacturing engine. A collection of obsolete eloquence would be a valuable curiosity. I have now and then pencilled my books for materials. Take an example of a beautiful illustration of Lord Boling broke's, which Capt. Parry has dashed to the ground and broken in pieces. "There was a time," says he, speaking as a philosopher, er cathedra, "when navigators bent themselves obstinately to find a passage by the north-east or the north-west to Cathay. Neither frequent losses nor constant disappointment could divert them from these enterprises, as long as the fashionable folly prevailed. The passage was not found; the fashion wore out; and the folly ceased. The bounds of navigation were set and sufficient warning was both given and taken against any further attempts in those dark and frozen regions." (Works, 8vo., I. 277, 278.) Alas! for mere eloquence but the illustration was fine, as will be seen by its application. "Many such (attempts) there are in the intellectual world: and many such attempts have been made there with no better success. But the consequence has not been the same. Neither examples nor experience have had their effect on philosophers, more fool-hardy than mariners: and where the former wandered to no purpose three thousand years ago, they wander to no purpose, at least to no good purpose, still."

Blair, if I remember right, has spoken contemptuously of the style of Bolingbroke's Philosophical Works; but Blair never wrote a passage equal to this, which is not one of Boling

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ART time ago, a friend put into my hand an American newspaper which both excited surprise and afforded me pleasure; for the newspapers of that inquiring country appear to have objects in view which do not come within the plan of our English editors. This paper is called "The Evening Gazette, devoted, among other objects, to Literature and Piety." It is printed at Boston. This number, which forms a part of the tenth volume, contains a short essay on "the Faith of the Heart," copied from The Unitarian Miscellany. I shall call the attention of your readers to the sentiments contained in this essay, marking them with inverted commas; but will first mention, that not only is this paper aiming at the spread of Unitarian principles, but that there is also one published at Philadelphia, called "The Christian, devoted to Religion, Morals and Literature," the character of which is distinctly marked by several of its pieces, especially by one lying before me, on the subject of "Jesus made both Lord and Christ." I copy from this number the following article of intelligence, which will gratify many who will read it in your pages:

"A week or two ago we stated, that at least three-fourths of the 'Friends' in this city were Unitarians. Several respectable members of that body have since called upon us, and

told us, we should have been nearer the truth if we had said ninetenths; and we make this correction at their request."

I apprehend we may form nearly the same conclusion respecting the Society of Quakers in New York, from the communication of Bereus, Vol. XIX. pp. 544 and following.

The Faith of the Heart.

What is belief? A question surely of no mean importance, since thinking must go before acting, and faith must precede our works. Why do we pursue a chosen line of conduct, but because we believe that it will lead us

to an object which we are desirous of obtaining? Why form a regular system of living, and shape our course by an established rule, but because we have duly weighed the value of the offers which have been proposed to us, and have made our choice of that which we prefer? There is not an intellectual being, in whom the mental powers are in activity, that is not moved in what he does by a faith of some sort but it must not be supposed that faith or belief is an unique principle which admits of no different shadings.

"Belief or faith, strictly defined, is the assent of the understanding to a stated and intelligible proposition. But this assent may be given to error as well as to truth; and it may be rendered when it ought to be withheld, and withheld when it ought to be rendered: for the decisions of the understanding are not infallible."

We have only to examine the different classes of mankind in order to be convinced that the determinations of the human mind, even those which arise from and depend upon belief, are as various, and assume as many colours, as the rainbow; that they also incline towards and merge into one another, and, like itself, depend upon the peculiar circumstances which gave them birth. Man can believe only as circumstances arise to afford him information; and as these circumstances are indefinitely various in the different walks of life, and in the different climates of our earth, so man believes upon very different grounds, and forms an infinite variety of creeds and systems of acting. Leaving all other varieties of faith for the present, we will consider that there are two strong points of difference in the faith of men; for there is a faith which rests altogether on feeling, and there is a faith of which the heart cordially participates. Mere thinking may suffice to form a creed, and to make a firm and stubborn believer; but it is with the heart that man believeth unto righteousness. Now, the object of religion, it will surely be admitted, is to form the soul to righteousness; therefore it becomes a matter of absolute necessity, that, in forming that faith which is to be the foundation of a religious life, we believe not with the understanding alone, but also with

the heart, with the consent of all the powers and sympathies of the man, with the full approbation of his intellectual faculties, and of those tender and amiable feelings which have their seat in the heart.

"By the faith of the heart is to be understood, in the first place, a faith which does not terminate in speculation."

We are quite sure there are many professors of religion whose faith terminates where it begins, in a simple assent to certain principles which have been offered under the sanction of some powerful authority. Mankind at large, as well in Pagan and Mahometan countries as in those that are Christian, receive their faith in this way. It is with them a mere matter of social feeling, a habit which begins to be formed in early life, grows up with their growth and strengthens with their strength. The intellect is little called on to judge whether their system be right or wrong; they have never called in question the correctness of their fathers' faith: the very thought of a different profession wounds them: they wonder, they know not why, that any of their neighbours can avow another faith. Ask them whence this wonder arises, they can give no other answer but that they are going with the stream of public opinion, and not a doubt can be entertained that public opinion is correct. Little has occurred in their lives to induce a thought of the comparative excellence of systems; and they are capable of no other sentiment except that of astonishment, accompanied by a painful apprehension as to the situation in which a dissenter from their system is placed. These men can assign no legitimate reason of the faith that is in them: I say no legitimate reason, because men of contrary faiths, in kingdoms that patronize contrary opinions, are all in the same condition; but contrary things cannot be true.

"But the religion of the heart is a vital religion; a religion which lives and breathes and moves and acts, which prompts the virtues and regulates the conduct: a religion which tells the heart to beat whenever the blessed names and offices of integrity, purity and justice, are recited: which commands the affections to fly wher

ever there is a tear flowing which they can wipe away, or a bosom bleeding which they can bind, or a care which they can render lighter by their support, or a sorrow which they can alleviate by their sympathy: a religion which bids its votaries lift a reverend and grateful eye to the Creator for his ceaseless and unspeakable bounties, and then look down again on the world, and endeavour to deserve them.

"To believe with the heart is not to give a cold assent of the head to any truths, but to feel their influence and bow to their authority. Good principles may be received and then forgotten; but he who believes with the heart will not only receive, but retain them, keep them in his heart, and oppose them, whenever there is occasion, to the temptations of the world. Some there are who think it sufficient that they have turned their attention to religion on certain occasions, and honestly subscribed a form of faith, as far as they comprehended it, once in their lives: farther examination or reflection they conceive to be unnecessary; thus making way for pernicious principles and low-bred interests to gain ground until it is too late to correct them. But they who believe with the heart, acquire a habit of recalling at will those principles which they have once acknowledged to be true, and of renewing those impressions which they have ever found to be beneficial; and thus they prevent the admission or continuance of other principles and opposite impressions. Their faith is always by them. In the world it will defend, comfort, cheer, support-and in heaven it will crown them.

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Again, to believe with the heart is to make our opinions invariably respect the good affections of our nature, and to admit no principles which are opposite to them; not, indeed, to be guided by the heart, but never to offer any violence to its dictates. There is no heresy so dangerous as that which rebels against the innocent and regulated feelings of humanity. There is no schism so dreadful as that which breaks away from the communion and companionship of the heart. There is no belief so widely unchristian and unsound as that which would in the least degree contribute to weak

en or to sever the bonds of society and the ties of neighbourhood, friendship and affection. That counsel is of Moloch, and not of God, which proclaims war against charity and love. Faith is never glad when Feeling weeps: Religion never speaks of duty to a shuddering bosom: and Christianity disclaims the power which Nature would recoil to exercise."

What, then, shall we say of whole societies of Christians who profess to believe that all but themselves will suffer the everlasting wrath of God, in consequence of sin which they could not prevent, and disobedience over which they had no controul? The language of the Calvinist creed is this: "We believe that this vice, original sin, is a sin which makes all and every man, not even excepting infants in the womb, liable, in the sight of God, to eternal death” (Gallic): which in other creeds is worded thus: "Liable to the pains of hell for ever." Such is indeed the tenor of all Calvinistic creeds, which admit of no other relief than this, that some are elected from everlasting, and redeemed by the blood of Christ, and thus made secure of eternal life and happiness; but who they are, and how many, no one can tell. Now, can any one with the heart believe so horrid a doctrine? Can he reconcile it to his feelings, and call his tender affections to approve of what must be the result of such a system, namely, that by far the greater part of the human raceand among them he is compelled, perhaps, to number his nearest and dearest friends, the partners of his love, with whom his sympathetic affections have ever been in unison-shall go away into everlasting punishment? The head of man is often weak; it is much imposed upon by crafty, designing men, and by men whose heads are as weak as his own; and with his head he may believe this doctrine, or any other that appertains to a Moloch or a Juggernaut; but with his heart he cannot believe it. His heart revolts against the belief; and he must effectually close every passage from which the tender affections flow out, before his tongue can dare to confess that such is the serious and approved article of his faith.

"Again, to believe with the heart is to believe ardently, warmly, deeply."

A man may be brought to profess justice; even then the heart tells them what is in open rebellion against every it is cruelty. dictate of the heart. Awed by a great name, or terrified by the awful denunciations of those that are teaching falsehood, the mind may crouch and humble itself before an earthly god, and may in an agony, induced by the. conflict of his feelings, be ready to cry out, I believe-help thou my unbelief. There is nothing deep in such a profession; there is nothing warm in the feeling with which it is uttered. All is shallow as the noisy strean; all is cold and wretched as the boreal mountain: it is as barren too; as barren of every thing on which human nature can live; as far removed from all social regards, as the wilderness is removed from the "garden of God." How miserably cold and comfortless has life been often made by a gloomy view of those eternal decrees upon which the happiness and misery of an eternity have been supposed to depend! The language of many a poor deluded Calvinist has been, Oh! that I could but believe what I am taught, is false. The judgment has refused its assent. All the best feelings of their frame have revolted against their doctrine. For not one moment would their sympathies grant their approbation; and not one single principle of their entire frame has been engaged in the formation of their creed but their fear: they have been afraid to deny what has been enjoined upon them by an authority they dared not call in question, enforced by arguments they were not prepared to confute.

To many a one within the knowledge of your readers does this description apply. To one, worthy and excellent, does the eye of my memory now carry me, to whom the duties of life, under these painful impressions, were a drudgery, because they led to nothing but tribulation and anguish; to whom the services of religion could do no more than add fuel to the fire of despair; and who could behold in him who was the Author of a present miserable existence, and of that more wretched state for which he is in cruelty training his intelligent offspring, nothing but a stern determination to fulfil his merciless decrees. It is well if, with such views, men can call it

But let us suppose the disciple of Calvin is one of his more fortunate followers, who has persuaded himself that he has the light within him, that he is renewed by grace, that for him Christ has died, and that his way is clear and his end will be happy. By some fortunate combination or other, this is, I suppose, the more common case: flattering hope will kindle in the human breast, as well in spiritual as in temporal concerns. Does his heart approve the dictates of his religion as they respect the great body of his fellow-creatures; of those, especially, who profess a different faith, and who, on that account alone, he must think will be eternally damned ? Does his heart approve of such an opinion? Can he really bless the name of his God, who, with a justice so severe, has singled him out of a large family, and condemned all the others-as good as himself, perhaps a great deal better, and more useful in the stations he has directed them to fill; or, if he has not fiercely condemned them, has passed them by, and suffered them to remain where mercy cannot reach them? Such a man is in general careful not to consult his heart upon such knotty points, and is, above all things, determined to subdue the dictates of nature, and check those risings of compassion which are sometimes too powerful even for his strongest convictions. And then he rebels against his creed, and has recourse to some kind of subterfuge, which will either soften the severity of his doctrine or smother the tender thoughts which spring up. Indeed, of the man that is led away by the delusions of falsehood in his religious profession, it may, according to our views of truth, be said, that either with his heart he does not believe unto righteousness, or that he is in a fluctuating state, suspended between the cruel decisions of his religion and the kind dictates of his heart.

Other reflections might be added to the above to illustrate this most awful subject, but I shall be drawn out to too great a length, and will therefore withhold them, anxious still to offer a solution of what has ever seemed problematical in the character of many

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