LETTER XXVIII.
Dear Charles,—My false steps at Bellevue introduced
me to an intimate acquaintance with poverty; and an apartment
in limbo was before my eyes. But from this deliverance
came, so marked that we all said, “that surely is providential!”
And yet was it fit that we should suffer more
* * * yes, in the midst of a city in the Old Purchase,
Charles, we endured what we had in the log cabins of the
New Purchase—sometimes with not a dollar to buy food—
threatened with prosecutions for unavoidable debt—forced to
sell articles of furniture to pay rents—arrested by professedly
good men, and in the midst * * * *.
— books rare and costly sold for a pittance —
* * * and finally, my office taken from me without a
moment's warning! And when these afflictions could not be
concealed, they became the signal for some to push faster the
falling! Nor were cruel animadversions spared, as if I
had not strained every nerve of ability—although
a deep anguish was gnawing into the core of my heart—
— and I was trying to say, “It is thy hand, Father!
even so, if it seem good in thy sight!”
Charles, my heart had nearly failed * * * years of
darkness and horror were the consequence of these mental
shocks; but in the midst, and when a wall to prevent all
escape seemed around, at that moment came into my mind,
“Go, visit Dr. P.” This gentleman I had not seen for more
than twenty years, and we never corresponded; nor had I
any special claim or intimacy * * * but in the despair
of my crushed soul something seemed to say, “He perhaps
can help you!” — I went the journey while she
and they stood on the bank — I unbosomed to
my former friend; and most tenderly did he sympathize and
encourage me to hope —
A few days after my return home, came a letter from
this friend; and that letter contained the offer of an excellent
situation; and a request that I should draw on my friend for
funds necessary to visit the place * * * By his aid and
recommendation the situation was easily obtained; and that
led to a prosperity, and usefulness, and happiness unknown
for years!
Years, indeed, of blackness and darkness intervened between
that period and this. In that furnace of raging fire,
has infinite mercy walked with us and brought us forth for
good. And similar, Charles, is also the experience of some
very excellent persons of my acquaintance; and doubtless
the experience of innumerable good men every where, if we
only knew their histories. And such, when they hear what
we can tell, believe all; for they too say, “We have passed
through the same.”
My friend P—, it seems, had, shortly after my return
home, accidentally met a mutual friend; to whom he accidentally
named me, and my melancholy state; on which, our
mutual friend said, “The very thing! I have just received
a commission to look for such a person, as we believe
him to be;”—and so the place became mine.
I am not willing to go into detail, Charles, as you wish.
I know the past was necessary for the present. And that
furnace was kindled by divine wisdom and love. There is
a sense in which the rod comforts and supports like the staff.
The full or adequate perception of that, as well as other
important scriptural truth, is worth the furnace. Never,
never, no—never would we willingly pass through that fire
again;—I shudder even to look back—but if it be needful,
and the Son of God will walk with us and sustain our hope
and faith and love;—then be it so, if through that fire be
our road to heaven! Yea! it would be compensated by the
occasional discoveries of truth and holiness!—by inwrought
loathing of sin!—by the unutterable peace in feeling and
knowing that one was trying in his deepest soul to be entirely
and cheerfully resigned to God!
Charles, our timid flesh cowers at the thoughts of a torturing
martyrdom; we do fear lest shrinking nature must
draw back from that test; but we have been where we did
see what made it possible for other Christians to lie on the bed
of fire, as on a bed of down! There are visions, and supports,
and faith, and given strength, that do lift martyrs above
all that is moral! “Welcome cross of Christ!”
We are well aware to what the avowal of such belief
exposes us. The offence of the cross is not ceased. Yes,
there are yet mitred heads that, like Nero, would dress
Christians in the skins of wild beasts, because the dogs would
not hunt men! It is necessary to make good men look like
criminals, before the secular arm dare destroy them. So
sentiments like ours must be made seemingly fanatical; and
then will they be despised; and, if some had power, they
would be punished! But we may not trust our pen to say
all we think of the smooth villainy of that hypocrisy which
forms an alliance with the state, that it may have executioners
to roast and wrench, whilst the Liar stands near, and
with such an air of
unearthly meekness, and such a frightfully
ludicrous snivelling, cries, “Twist gently,—burn him
carefully, O secular arm!—we deliver him unwillingly,
and for the health of the soul—and the glory of God!”
And men (?) of renown apologize for such things! And
they make light of conscience! and call it sanctimonious
scrupulosity! and enthusiastic obstinacy! and cry, “Make
the dogs' beards!”
