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the education of young men destined to the ministry among the Particular Baptists. Dr. Caleb Evans, who at that time presided over the academy, and officiated as pastor of the congregation in Broadmead, was a man of extensive learning, fervent piety, captivating eloquence, and of the most liberal sentiments. Between the instructor and the pupil there immediately commenced a mutual attachment, which continued to increase, till it became evident that the latter was already marked as the intended successor of the principal, both in the church and the school.

At the age of seventeen, Mr. Hall proceeded to King's College, Aberdeen, where he formed an intimacy with his fellowstudent, Mr. (now Sir James) Mackintosh, who, though one year younger than himself, and intended for the medical profession, was at this early period distinguished for his progress in classical and general literature. The most beautiful and eloquent letter from this renowned civilian to Mr. Hall, (for which the reader is referred to a subsequent page,) written in late years, and under peculiarly affecting circumstances, presents this early and continued intimacy, as well as the personal character of each party, in the most favorable aspect. During the residence of Mr. Hall at Aberdeen, a period of nearly four years, he constantly attended the lectures of the learned Dr. George Campbell, professor of theology and ecclesiastical history at the Marischal College. At intervals however, and especially in the vacations, he exercised his talents in preaching, as we learn from the following entry in the diary of his friend, Rev. Andrew Fuller, under date of May, 1784 :— "Heard Mr. Robert Hall, junior, from this text: 'He that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow.' Felt very solemn on hearing some parts," &c.

About this time he took the degree of Master of Arts, soon after which he became colleague with Dr. Evans in the ministry, at Bristol, and adjunct instructor in the academy. At this place he was exceedingly followed and admired. The church where he officiated was crowded to excess, and among his admiring hearers were to be seen learned divines, and even dignitaries, of the Established Church. But in the midst of this popularity a dark cloud arose, which spread a gloom over the congregation, and threatened to deprive the Christian world of one of its brightest ornaments. It pleased Providence to visit Mr. Hall with a calamity, which (to adopt the language of his sympathizing friend) to a mind less fortified by reason and religion, all would dread to mention. Symptoms of a disordered intellect, which had occasionally appeared as the effect of that constitutional disease, which has rendered all his life one of extreme suffering, assumed at last such an alarming character, that it was deemed imprudent for the patient to take part in public duty. The malady increased, and Mr. Hall being now deemed irrecoverable, was taken home to his friends in Leicestershire. Under judicious treatment, and by slow degrees, however, the light of reason

returned, and at length his noble mind regained its perfect liberty and former power.

About this time Dr. Evans died; but the trustees and congregation at Bristol had already made their election in favor of the younger Mr. Ryland, who continued with them till his death. Meanwhile Mr. Hall received a cordial invitation from the Baptist society at Cambridge, which had been under the pastoral care of Rev. Robert Robinson, till that singular man fell from one error to another, and ended his wanderings and his life together under the roof of Dr. Priestley, who, though he hailed his disciple with joy, wondered at being outdone by him in extravagance.

Mr. Hall accepted the call of the congregation at Cambridge in 1791, and the consequences were soon visible in the revival of a society which had been for some time in a sad state of torpidity. The fundamental truths of the gospel were stated in language equally clear and elegant; the precepts of this heavenly code were enforced with commanding eloquence; and the various obliga. tions of men were set forth and explained in a manner that could not possibly be eluded or misunderstood.

When Mr. Hall fixed his residence here, the wonderful change that had taken place in France excited general attention, and even the religious world did not escape being agitated by the discordant spirit which that mighty revolution produced. The measures of Dr. Price and Dr. Priestley, in particular, alarmed the friends of government; and the conduct of the latter had the effect of rousing the feelings of the populace at Birmingham into outrage, and acts of violence of the most disgraceful nature. At this juncture, Mr. C******, a highly popular minister among the Calvinistic Independents in London, printed a sermon, recommending to Dissenters in general an entire forbearance from all political associations and discussions. Mr. Hall, conceiving that such counsel tended to the introduction of slavish principles, and the degradation of the religious society to which he belonged, deemed it his duty to enter a protest against the adoption of a rule that was at once repugnant to the fundamental rights of mankind, and in no respect warranted either by the written code, or the example of the founders of our common faith. With a view, therefore, to prevent the progress of the debasing maxims that had been speciously propounded, from one of the leading pulpits in the metropolis, Mr. Hall published a powerful pamphlet, entitled, "Christianity consistent with a Love of Freedom;" to which, it is apprehended, no reply was ever attempted. The argumentative reasoning of this tract was afterwards expanded by the author, and arranged in a more formal manner, under the title of "An Apology for the Freedom of the Press." This publication, which appeared in the beginning of 1794, contains six sections on the following subjects: 1. The Right of Public Discussion; 2. Associations; 3. Reform of Parliament; 4. Theories and Rights of Man; 5. Dissenters; 6. Causes of the Present Discontents. Of the Apology, it was observed at the time, by some of the 2

VOLL. II.

critics, to whom the principles of the work were most offensive, that "if a book must be praised at all events for being well written, this ought to be praised." Dugald Stewart expressed it as his opinion of this work, that it was the finest specimen of English composition then in existence. Mr. Hall apologizes for the warmth of its expressions, by pronouncing it an eulogy on a dead friend.

The next appearance of Mr. Hall before the world as an author, gave him still greater distinction, and procured him the esteem of many illustrious characters in church and state. The alarming extent of sceptical principles at the close of the century, and their pernicious effects upon public manners and private conduct, greatly af fected the mind of this zealous preacher, and led him to investigate the evil in its causes and consequences. The result of his inquiry appeared in a sermon printed in 1800, with this title; "Modern Infidelity considered with respect to its Influence on Society." In this profound discourse the metaphysical sophistry of the new school of scepticism is exposed in all its native deformity, and the total inefficiency of it to the production of any moral good, either for the benefit of society, or the improvement of the individual, is demonstrably established.

Mr. Hall, when he published this masterly sermon, promised to enter into a fuller and more particular examination of the infidel philosophy, both with respect to its speculative principles and its practical effects; its influence on society and the individual. Unfortunately, this pledge, though made near thirty years ago, has not yet been redeemed, and the work which, of all others, would be the best antidote to scepticism, remains a desideratum.

On the 19th of October, 1803, being the day set apart by authority for a solemn fast, Mr. Hall was at Bristol, where he preached before a crowded congregation, consisting chiefly of volunteers. The period was gloomy, and the immense preparations then going on in France for an invasion of Britain, were enough to impress the most inconsiderate with serious thoughts and apprehensions. Such was the state of the country, when this matchless preacher, collected in himself, and full of holy confidence, endeavored to impart the same spirit to his hearers. Concerning the peroration of this grand discourse, it was remarked by a contemporary, and by no means partial critic, that it was the noblest specimen of eloquence in any language.

Not long after this, the exquisitely toned mind of Mr. Hall again sustained so violent a shock, that his removal from Cambridge was the unavoidable consequence. He was placed under the care of the late Dr. Thomas Arnold, of Leicester, by whose judicious treatment a complete recovery was effected. On this occasion, one so much calculated to inspire the friends of the patient with gratitude, and sympathy too, the following letter was written to Mr. Hall, by his early friend, Sir James Mackintosh, then absent from his country, in an official capacity.

My dear Hall,

BOMBAY, SEPT. 21, 1805.

I believe that in the hurry of leaving England, I did not answer the letter which you wrote to me in Dec. 1803. I did not, however, forget your interesting young friend, from whom I have received one letter from Constantinople, and to whom I have written at Cairo, where he now is. No request of yours, could indeed be esteemed lightly by me.

It happened to me a few days ago, in drawing up (merely for my own use) a short sketch of my life, that I had occasion to give a faithful statement of my recollection of the circumstances of my first acquaintance with you. On the most impartial survey of my early life, I could see nothing which tended so much to excite and invigorate my understanding, to direct it towards high, though, perhaps, scarcely accesssible objects, as my intimacy with you. Five and twenty years are now past since we first met, but hardly any thing has occurred since, which has made a deeper or a more agreeable impression on my

mind.

I now remember the extraordinary union of brilliant fancy with acute intellect, which would have excited more admiration than it has done, if it had been dedicated to the amusement of the great and learned, instead of being consecrated to the far more noble office of consoling, instructing, and comforting the poor and the forgotten. It was then too early for me to discover that extreme purity, which, in a mind pre-occupied with the low realities of life, would have been no natural companion of so much activity and ardor, but which thoroughly detached you from the world, and made you the inhabitant of regions where alone it is possible to be always active without impurity, and where the ardor of your sensibility had unbounded scope, amid the inexhaustible combinations of beauty and excellence.

It is not given us to preserve an exact medium. Nothing is so difficult as to decide how much ideal models ought to be combined with experience; how much of the future ought to be let into the present, in the progress of the human mind, to ennoble and purify us without raising us above the sphere of our usefulness; to qualify us for what we ought to seek, without unfitting us for that to which we must submit. These are great and difficult problems, which can be but imperfectly solved. It is certain that the child may be too manly, not only for his present enjoyment, but for his future progress.

Perhaps, my good friend, you have fallen into this error of superior nature; from this error has arisen, I think, the calamity with which it has pleased Providence to chasten you; which, to a mind less fortified by reason and religion, I should not dare to mention, and which I really consider in you as little more than the indignant struggle of a pure mind with the base realities which surround it, the fervent aspirations after regions more congenial to it, and a momentary blindness produced by the fixed contemplation of objects too bright for human vision. I may say in this case, in a far grander sense than that in which the words were originally spoken by the great poet,

"And yet the light which led astray
Was light from Heaven."

On your return to us, you must surely have found consolation in the only terrestrial produce which is pure and truly exquisite; in the affections and attachments you have inspired, which you were most worthy to inspire, and which no human pollution can rob of their heavenly nature.

If I were to prosecute the reflections and indulge the feelings which at this moment fill my mind, I should venture to doubt whether, from a calamity derived from such a source and attended with such consolation, I should yield so far to the vain opinions of men, as to seek to condole with you. But I check myself, and I exhort you, my most worthy friend, to check your own best propensities, for the sake of obtaining their object.

You cannot live for men without being with them. Serve God by the active service of men; contemplate more the good you can do, than the evil you can only lament; allow yourself to see the great loveliness of human virtue amidst all its imperfections; and employ your moral imagination, not so much in bringing it into contact with the model of ideal perfection, as in gently blending some of the fainter colors of the latter with its brighter lines of real,

experienced excellence. Thus heightening the beauty, instead of broadening the shade which must surround us, till we awake from this dream in other spheres of existence.

My habits of life have not been favorable to this train of meditation. I have been too busy and too trifling; my nature would have been, perhaps, better consulted, if I had been placed in a quiet situation, where speculation might have been my business, and visions of the fair and good my chief recreation. When I approach you, I feel a powerful attraction towards this, which seems the natural destiny of my mind; but habit opposes, obstacles and duty call me off, and reason frowns on him who wastes that reflection on a destiny independent of him, which he ought to reserve for actions of which he is the master.

In another letter I may write to you on miscellaneous subjects; at present I cannot bring myself to speak of them. Let me hear from you soon and often. Farewell, my dear friend.

Yours, most faithfully,

JAMES MACKINTOSH.

On recovering from this most calamitous visitation of Providence, Mr. Hall was entreated to undertake the pastorship of the Baptist Church at Leicester; and he accepted the invitation much to the advantage of that society, which had fallen into a very low state. The chapel would then contain about three hundred at the most; the members were poor, few in number, and the congregation scanty. In a short space of time, however, the building was found to be too contracted to accommodate the crowds that attended, and in consequence three successive enlargements took place; so that at present it is capable of seating eleven hundred persons.

Shortly after Mr. Hall's settlement at Leicester, he formed an intimacy with that excellent man, Mr. Robinson, vicar of St. Mary's. Though attached to different communions, yet similar in their views of the great truths of Christianity, equally liberal in their sentiments, and both possessing talents of a superior order, it is not to be wondered that the acquaintance should have ripened into an attachment entirely free from all jealousy and sectarianism.The eulogium which Mr. Hall passed, at a public meeting in Leicester, upon his deceased friend, is not only a masterly piece of eloquence in itself, but a faithful portraiture of departed worth, and such as brings to mind the noblest panegyrics of Gregory Nazianzen.

The death of Mr. Robinson occurred in 1813, previous to which Mr. Hall published two admirable sermons, one entitled "The Advantages of Knowledge to the Lower Classes, preached for the benefit of a Sunday School;" and the other an ordination sermon, with the title of "The Discouragements and Supports of the Christian Minister."

On the death of the Princess Charlotte, a sermon was preached by Mr. Hall, suited to the affecting circumstances, and at the desire of his congregation he sent the discourse to the press. The subject was one well adapted to the great powers of the distinguished author, and he did it ample justice in elegance and pathos. About the same time he reprinted his tract on the Freedom of the Press, with additions and corrections. This republication, however, involved him in a controversy with an unknown opponent, whe attacked him, on the ground of his politics, in the Christian Guardian.

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