I now read with relish and understand St. Paul's Epistles, which not long since I could not comprehend, even with the help of Mr. Locke's Paraphrase. Taking up, a few days ago, at an “Ordinary,” the Life of John Bunyan, which I had never before read, I find an exact coincidence in our feelings on this head, as well as others.
Very early in life I imbibed an absurd prejudice in favor of Mahomedanism and its votaries. The Crescent had a talismanic effect on my imagination, and I rejoiced in all its triumphs over the Cross, (which I despised,) as I mourned over its defeats; and Mahomet the 2d himself did not more exult than I did when the Crescent was planted on the dome of St. Sophia, and the Cathedral of the Constantines was converted into a Turkish Mosque. To this very day I feel the effects of Peter Randolph's Zanga on a temper naturally impatient of injury, but insatiably vindictive under insult.
On the night that I wrote last to you, I scribbled a pack of nonsense to Rootes, which serves only to show the lightness of my heart. About the same time, in reply to a question from a friend, I made the following remarks, which, as I was weak from long vigilance, I requested him to write down, that I might, when at leisure, copy it into my diary. From it you will gather pretty accurately the state of my mind.
“It is my business to avoid giving offence to the world, especially in all matters merely indifferent. I shall therefore stick to my old uniform, blue and buff, unless God see fit to change it for black. I must be as attentive to my dress and to household affairs, as far as cleanliness and comfort are concerned, as ever—and indeed more so. Let us take care to drive none away from God, by dressing Religion in the garb of Fanaticism. Let us exhibit her as she is, equally removed from superstition and lukewarmness. But we must take care, that while we avoid one extreme, we fall not into the other—no matter which. I was born and baptized in the Church of England. If I attend the Convention at Charlottesville, which I rather doubt, I shall oppose myself then, and always, to every attempt at encroachment on the part of the Church—the Clergy especially—on the rights of conscience. I attribute, in a very great degree, my long estrangement from God, to my abhorrence of Prelatical pride and Puritanical preciseness; to Ecclesiastical tyranny, whether Roman Catholic or Protestant—whether of Harry V, or Harry VIII—of Mary or Elizabeth—of John Knox, or Archbishop Laud—of the Cameronians of Scotland, the Jacobins of France, or the Protestants of Ireland. Should I fail to attend, it will arise from a repugnance to submit the religion, (or church) any more than the liberty of my country, to foreign influence. When I speak of my country, I mean the Commonwealth of Virginia. I was born in allegiance to George III—the Bishop of London (Terrick!) was my diocesan. My ancestors threw off the oppressive yoke of the mother country, but they never made me subject to New England in matters spiritual or temporal—neither do I mean to become so, voluntarily.”
I have been up long before day, and write with pain from a sense of duty to you and Mrs. B., in whose welfare I take the most earnest concern. You have my prayers. Give me yours, I pray you. Adieu!
J. R. of R.
P. S. You make no mention of Leigh. I was on the top of the pinnacle of Otter this day fortnight—a little above the Earth, but how far beneath Heaven!
Roanoke, Sept. 25, 1818.