inconsistent with the preservation of physical life—inconsistent with the laws the God of nature has ordained, the certainty is that the lower classes in ‘populous cities pent,’ who toil from morning till night six days in the week, will do as they now practically do—reject Christianity altogether.
I have said Mr. Hinton’s theology is original. A short sketch of it will soon make this clear. Thus, while he holds the doctrine of human depravity, he contends that ‘No man is subject to the wrath of God, in any sense or degree, because of Adam’s sin, but every man stands as free from the penal influences of his first parent’s crime as though Adam had never existed, or as though he himself were the first of mankind.’ Calvinism Mr. Hinton in toto explodes. He says: ‘Without being moved thereto by the Spirit of God, and without any other influence than the blessing which God always gives to the use of means, you are competent to alter your mind towards God by obeying the dictates of your own conscience, and employing the faculties of your own being. Think on your ways, and you will turn your feet to God’s testimonies. This is what God requires you to do in order to
obtain deliverance from His wrath; and, except you do it without regard to any communication of His Spirit, he leaves you to perish.’ At times Mr. Hinton seems to contradict himself. But, after all, is not the theme one on which the human intellect can never be perfectly consistent and clear?
At one time Mr. Hinton was much in public life. In the Anti-Slavery agitation he took a conspicuous part. He was also connected with the Anti-State-Church Association, and is still a great advocate of voluntary education. Within the last few months several able letters have appeared, from his pen, on this subject, in the ‘Daily News.’ But on the platform he is not often heard, as was his wont. Mr. Hinton was settled, I believe, originally, at Reading, where he won a high reputation—I am told the Rev. Mr. Milman, the poet, who resided in Reading at the time, always spoke of Mr. Hinton as by far ‘the most original-minded man among us’—and came to London when Dr. Price resigned, on account of ill health, the pastorate of the church in Devonshire Square. Mr. Hinton then became his successor.
His publications are various. The following list will show his industry at least: ‘Athanasia,’
in four books; ‘On Immortality in 1849;’ ‘Letters written during a Tour in Germany in 1851;’ ‘Memoirs of William Knibb, the celebrated Missionary in Jamaica;’ ‘A History of the United States of North America;’ ‘Theology, or an Attempt towards a Consistent View of the Whole Counsel of God;’ ‘The Work of the Holy Spirit in Conversion Considered;’ ‘Elements of Natural History; or, an Introduction to Systematic Zoology, chiefly according to the Classification of Linnæus.’ Besides, Mr. Hinton has written pamphlets in favour of Voluntaryism in religion and education, and published sermons innumerable. In the pulpit or the press, his labours are most unremitting. He may be denied the possession of great talent, but all must admit his power of persevering toil.
The only drawback in connection with Mr. Hinton, I am told, is that his temper is rather uncontrollable—that he is rather more rugged than need be: indeed you will not attend long at Devonshire Square before you find this to be the case. It is a pity it should be so. A man should have more command over himself. Young preachers may be put out by a cough, or any other sign of indifference; but old practised hands should have long outgrown that.
SHERIDAN KNOWLES.
A playwright in the pulpit seems an anomaly. The stage and the pulpit have generally been at bitter war. Jeremy Collier had the best of it in his day, and I believe would have the best of it in ours. The stage with its paint and sawdust and glaring gas—the stage as it is—is the last place to which an earnest man would turn with hope. Originally religious, it has long ceased to be such. It has become simply an amusement—if the reproduction of all that is heartless and flippant and rotten in society be considered as such. Our English Catos don’t go to the theatre at all, and when one who is not a Cato goes there, it becomes to him a sight melancholy rather than otherwise, unless he have sunk altogether into the unhappy life of that dullest of all dogs, a gay man about town. As to the stage being a school of morals, the idea is the most preposterous that ever entered the head of man. At the best, when it collects a goodly company—when it is lit up with beauty—when it resounds with merriment—when it is
electrified by wit—it is a pleasant place for the consumption of an idle hour. More it is not now. More it has never been since people could read and write. More it can never be.