* I have since learned that Mr. W. J. Fox read this passage
in a Sunday morning lecture on the events of the month,
delivered at South-place in the September following my
trial; and I take this opportunity of acknowledging that Mr.
Fox was the only occupant of a pulpit from whom I received a
friendly line during my entire imprisonment.
I have been told to look around the world for evidences of the truth of the Christian religion; to look upon the world and draw different conclusions. It is well for those who enjoy the smiles of fortune to say so. For them all shines brightly—for them all is fair. But I can see cause of complaint, and I am not alone in the feeling. Mr. Capel Lofft had said, 'the sours of life less offend my taste than its sweets delight it.' On this Kirke White wrote:—
Go to the raging sea, and say
'Be still!' Bid the wild lawless winds obey thy will;
Preach to the storm, and reason with despair—
But tell not misery's son that life is fair.
Thou, who in plenty's lavish lap hast roll'd, And every year with new delight hast told—Thou, who, recumbent on the lacquer'd barge, Hast dropt down joy's gay stream of pleasant marge, Thou may'st extol life's calm, untroubled sea—The storms of misery ne'er burst on thee. Go to the mat where squalid want reclines; Go to the shade obscure where merit pines; Abide with him whom Penury's charms control, And bind the rising yearnings of his soul—Survey his sleepless couch, and, standing there, Tell the poor pallid wretch that life is fair!
Lo! o'er his manly form, decay'd and wan, The shades of death with gradual steps steal on; And the pale mother, pining to decay, Weeps, for her boy, her wretched life away.
Go, child of fortune! to his early grave, Where o'er his head obscure the rank weeda wave; Behold the heart-wrung parent lay her head On the cold turf, and ask to share his bed. Go, child of fortune, take thy lesson there, And tell us then that life is wondrous fair.
As I grew up I attended missionary meetings, and my few pence were given to that cause. When told of heathen kings who knew not God, and caged their miserable victims, I shuddered at their barbarity and prayed for their conversion. O waste of money and prayers that should have been employed on Christian men. O infantile fatuity! Do I not reap the whirlwind for my pains? I learned the accents of piety from my mother's lips. She was and still is a religious woman. Whatever may be the dissent I entertain, I have never spoken of her opinions in the language of contempt. I have always left her (as she to her honour has left me), to enjoy her own opinions. In early youth I was religious. I question whether there is any here who have spent more time than I did as a Sunday school teacher. I have given hours, which I ought to have employed in improving myself, in improving others. It is not without giving to Christianity time and attention—without knowing what it was—that I have given it up. Some lines I contributed to a religious publication at that time, will show the tone of thought which inquiry has subsequently changed:—
THE REIGN OF TIME.
The proudest earthly buildings show,
Time can all things devour;
E'en youth and beauty's ardent glow,
And manhood's intellectual brow,
Betray the spoiler's power:
How soon we sink beneath his sway—
He glances, and our heads turn gray.
Though, over all this earthly ball,
Time's standard is unfurled,
And ruins loud to ruins call
Throughout this time-worn world—
Yet from this wreck of earthly things,
See how the soul exulting springs.
And after the archangel's wand
Has wav'd o'er earth and sea,
And Time has stopped at his command,
The soul will nourish and expand
Through all eternity.
Religion—lovely, fair, and free—
Holds forth this immortality.
By all the glories of the sky,
To mortals yet unknown—
And by the worm that ne'er shall die,
The fires that always burn—
By all that's awful or sublime,
Ye sons of men improve your time.*
* 'Baptist Tract Magazine.' Vol. ii., p. 341.
It was stated by one of the magistrates that my being of no religion was no crime. I may conclude from what I heard this morning that I am not to be punished for not being religious. It was argued in, the Cheltenham Chronicle that my expressing my opinions was no crime, and I was at some loss to know what my crime was. The charge stated I was guilty of blasphemy. In the depositions made against me, it is stated that I was brought before the Cheltenham magistrates on a charge of felony. I believe now what I have to answer is the accusation of uttering certain words offensive to the Cheltenham Chronicle.
This paper stated that 'three persons were ready to give evidence on the matter.' And yet the witness says he knew nothing of it till the policeman came for him. He says they were 'chaffing' about my remarks in the office—that is, joking upon them. It does not say much for his seriousness—reporting these 'horrid sentiments' at night, and the next morning 'chaffing' about them. If it was an aggravation of my crime to have chosen an innocent subject, what would the learned counsel have said if I had chosen a guilty one? It has been sworn by the witnesses that I said I did not believe there was such a thing as a God, and an attempt has been made to make you believe that I used the term 'thing' contemptuously, but the witness admits that I did not use it in a contemptuous sense. The same word occurs in some lines by Thomas Moore:—