[524] Nicoll's Diary, pp. 152, 153. Much rain in the autumn, was ‘the Lord's displeasure upon the land.’ Minutes of the Presbyteries of Saint Andrews and Cupar, p. 179.
[525] ‘Men sweat, till, sow much, and the sun and summer, and clouds, warme dewes and raines smile upon cornes and meddowes, yet God steppeth in betweene the mouth of the husbandman and the sickle, and blasteth all.’ Rutherford's Christ Dying, p. 87. Compare Baillie's Letters, vol. iii. p. 52, on the ‘continuance of very intemperate rain upon the corns,’ as one of the ‘great signs of the wrath of God.’
[526] ‘When the Lord is provoked, he can not only send an affliction, but so order it, by faire appearances of a better lot, and heightening of the sinners expectation and desire, as may make it most sad.’ Hutcheson's Exposition on the Minor Prophets, vol. iii. pp. 9, 10.
[527] In 1696, there was a fire in Edinburgh; whereupon Moncrief, in his sermon next day, ‘told us, “That God's voice was crying to this city, and that he was come to the very ports, and was crying over the walls to us; that we should amend our ways, lest he should come to our city, and consume us in a terrible manner.” I cannot tell what this Dispensation of Providence wrought on me,’ &c. Memoirs or Spiritual Exercises of Elizabeth West, written by her own Hand, pp. 41, 42. See also, at pp. 122, 123, the account of another conflagration, where it is said, ‘there was much of God to be seen in this fire.’ Compare a curious passage in Calderwood's History of the Kirk of Scotland, vol. vii. pp. 455, 456.
[528] The Rev. James Fraser had a boil, and afterwards a fever. ‘During this sickness he miraculously allayed the pain of my boil, and speedily, and that without means, cured it; for however I bought some things to prevent it, yet, looking on it as a punishment from God, I knew not if I could be free to take the rod out of his hand, and to counterwork him.’ Memoirs of the Rev. James Fraser of Brea, Minister of the Gospel at Culross, written by Himself, in Select Biographies, vol. ii. p. 223. Durham declaims against ‘Sinful shunning and shifting off suffering;’ and Rutherford says, ‘No man should rejoice at weakness and diseases; but I think we may have a sort of gladness at boils and sores, because, without them, Christ's fingers, as a slain Lord, should never have touched our skin.’ Durham's Law Unsealed, p. 160; Rutherford's Religious Letters, p. 265. I do not know what effect these passages may produce upon the reader; but it makes my flesh creep to quote them. Compare Stevenson's Rare, Soul-strengthening, and Comforting Cordial, p. 35.
[529] It was not until late in the eighteenth century, that the Scotch clergy gave up this notion. At last, even they became influenced by the ridicule to which their superstition exposed them, and which produced more effect than any argument could have done. The doctrines, however, which they and their predecessors had long inculcated, had so corrupted the popular mind, that instances will, I believe, be found even in the nineteenth century, of the Scotch deeming precautions against small-pox to be criminal, or, as they called it, flying in the face of Providence. The latest evidence I can at this moment put my hand on, is in a volume published in 1797. It is stated by the Rev. John Paterson, that, in the parish of Auldearn, in the county of Nairn, ‘Very few have fallen a sacrifice to the small-pox, though the people are in general averse to inoculation, from the general gloominess of their faith, which teaches them, that all diseases which afflict the human frame are instances of the Divine interposition, for the punishment of sin; any interference, therefore, on their part, they deem an usurpation of the prerogative of the Almighty.’ Sinclair's Statistical Account of Scotland, vol. xix. p. 618, Edinburgh, 1797. See also vol. xiv. p. 52, Edinburgh, 1795. This is well said. No doubt, so abject, and so pernicious, a superstition among the people, was the result of ‘the general gloominess of their faith.’ But the Rev. John Paterson has forgotten to add, that the gloominess of which he complains, was in strict conformity with the teachings of the most able, the most energetic, and the most venerated of the Scotch clergy. Mr. Paterson renders scant justice to his countrymen, and should rather have praised the tenacity with which they adhered to the instructions they had long been accustomed to receive.
[530] The Rev. John Welsh, when suffering from a painful disorder, and also from other troubles, writes: ‘My douleurs ar impossible to expresse.’ … ‘It is the Lord's indignation.’ See his letter, in Miscellany of the Wodrow Society, vol. i. p. 558. See also Cowper's Heaven Opened, p. 128. A pain in one's side was the work of ‘the Lord’ (Memoirs of Marion Laird, p. 95); so was a sore throat (Wast's Memoirs, p. 203); and so was the fever in pleurisy. Robe's Narratives of the Extraordinary Work of the Spirit of God, p. 66.
[531] In January 1653, ‘This tyme, and mony monethis befoir, thair wes great skairshtie of wynes. In this also appered Godis justice toward this natioun for abusing of that blissing many yeiris befoir.’ Nicoll's Diary, p. 105.
[532] This idea was so deeply rooted, that we actually find a public fast and humiliation ordered, on account of ‘this present uncouth storme of frost and snaw, quhilk hes continewit sa lang that the bestiall ar dieing thik fauld.’ Records of the Kirk Session, Presbytery, and Synod of Aberdeen, p. 82.
[533] ‘There was a dog bit my leg most desperately. I no sooner received this, but I saw the hand of God in it.’ Wast's Memoirs, p. 114.