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he wrote his work, “The Saints' Everlasting Rest,' 1653. When Cromwell assumed the supreme power, Baxter openly expressed his disapprobation, and, in a conference with the Protector, told him that 'tue honest people of the land took their ancient monarchy to be a blessing, and not an evil.' lle was always opposed to intolerance. We intended not,' lie said, 'to dig down the banks, or pull up the hedge, and lay all waste and common, when we desired the preiates' tyranny might cease.' After the Restoration, Baxter was appointed one of the royal chaplains, but, like Owen, refused a bishopric offered him by Clarendon. The Act of Uniformity, in 1662, drove him out of the Established Church, and he retired to Acton, in Middlesex, where he spent several years in peaceful study and literary labour. The Act of Indulgence, in 1672, enabled him to repair to London ; but the subsequent persecution of the Nonconformists interfered with his ministerial duties. In 1685, he published a • Paraphrase on the New Testament,' a plain practical ireatise, but certain passages in which were held to be seditious, and Baxter was tried and condemned by the infamous Judge Jeffreys. When Baxter endeavoured to speak : Richard! Richard!' ejaculated the Judge, * dost thou think we'll hear thee poison the court? Richard, thou art an old fellow, an old knave; thou hast written books enough to load a cart. Hadst thou been whipt out of thy writing trade forty years ago, it had been liappy.'
He was sentenced to pay 500 marks, and in default to be imprisoned in the King's Bench until it was paid. Through the generous exertions of a Catholic peer, Lord Powis, the fine was remitted, and after eighteen months' imprisonment, Baxter was set at liberty. He had now five years of tranquillity, dying ‘in great peace and joy,' December 8, 1091. Baxter is said to have written no less than 168 separate works or publications ! His practical treatises are still read and republished, especially his ‘Sainis' Rest' and 'Call to the Unconverted,' 1669. The latter was so popular, that 20,000 copies, it was said, were sold in one year. His Reasons of the Christian Religion,' 1667, Life of Faitli, 1670, Coristian Directory,' 1675, are also much prized theological works. His Catholic Theology,' 1675, and Methodus Theologiæ Christianæ,' 1681, embody the views and opinions of Baxter on religious subjects. In 1996, appeared ‘Reliquiæ Baxterianæ,' including an autobiography, entitled A Narrative of the most Memorable Passages of my Life and Times,' published by Baxter's friend, Matthew Sylvester, a Nonconformist divine. This work is highly instructive, ind, like Baxter's writings generally, was a favourite book of Dr. Johnson. In our own day, it met with no less warm an admirer in Mr. Coleridge, who terms it. an inestimablu work;' addig: 'I may not unfrequently doubt Baxter's memory, or even his competence, in consequence of liis particular modes of thiriking; but I could almost as soon doubt the Gospel verity as his veracity.' It is this truthfulness which gives so deep and permanent
an interest to Baxter's life. We see what Mr. Carlyle would call the life of a real man, ever in action or in self-retrospection ; and as to what was passing around him, Baxter was an acute observer as well as profound thinker. A complete edition of Baxter's works, with a Life of the Author,
a by the Rey. W. Orme, was published in 1827, in twenty-three volumes. Also, lis ‘Practical Works,' four volumes, 1838.
Baxter's Judgment of his Writings. Concerning almost all my writings, I must confess that my own judgment is, that fewer, well studied and polished, had been better; but the reader who can safely censure the books, is not fit to censure the author, unless he had been upon the place, and acquainted with all the occasions and circumstances. Indeed, for the * Saints' Rest,' I had four months' vacancy to write it, but in the midst of continual Janguishing and medicine; but, for the rest, I wrote them in the crowd of all my other employments, wuich would allow me no great leisure for polishing and exactness, or any ornament; so that I scarce ever wrote ove sheet twice over. vor stayed to make any blots or interlinings, but was fain to let it go as it was first conceived ; and when my own desire was rather to stay upon one thing long than run over inany, some sudden occasions or other extorted all my writings from me; and the apprehensious of present usefulness or pecessity prevailed against all other motives; so that the divines which were at hand with me still put me on, and approved of what I did, because they were moved by present nécessities as well as i; but those that were far off, and felt not those nearer motives, did rather wish that I had taken the other way, and published a few elaborate writings; and I ain ready myself to be of their mind, when I forgot the case that I then stood in, and have lost the sense of former motives.
Fruits of Erperience of Human Character. I now see more good and more evil in all men than heretofore I did. I see that good men are not so good as I once thuught they were, but have more imperfections; and that vearer approach and fuller trial doth make the best appear more weak and faulty than their admirers at a distance think. And I find that few are so bal as either malicious enemies or ceusorious separating professors do imagine. In some, indeed, I find that human nature is corrupted into a greater likeness to devils than I once thought any on earth had been. But even in the wicked, usually there is more for grace to make advantage of, and more to testify for God and holiness, than I once believed there had been.
I less admire gifts of utterance, and bare profession of religion, than I once did ; and have much more charity for many who, by the want of gifts, do make an obscurer profession than they. I once thought that almost all that could pray movingly and fluently, and talk well of religion, had been saints. But experience bath opened to me what odious crimes may consist with high profession; and I have met with divers obscure persons, pot voted for any extraordinary profession, or forwardness ju religion, but only to live a quiet blameless life, whom I have after found to have long lived, as far as I could discern, a truly godly and sanctified life; only, their prayers and duties were by accident kept secret from other men's observation. Yet he that upon this pretence would confound the godly and the ungodly, may as well go about to lay heaven and bell together.
Desire of Approbation. I am much less regardful of the approbation of man, and set much lighter by contempt or applause, than I did long ago. I am oft suspicious that this is not only from the increase of self-denial and liumility, but partly from my being glutted and surfeited with human applause : and all worldly things appear most vuiu and unsatisfactory when we have tried them most. But though I feel that this hath some band in the effect, yet, as far as I can perceive, the kuowledge of mau's nothingDese, and God's transcendent greatuess, with whom it is that I have most to do,
and the sense of the bravity of human things, and the nearness of eternity, are the principal causes of this effect; which some have imputed to self-conceitedness and morosity.
Change in the Estimate of his Oun and Other Men's Knowledge.
Peretofore, I knew much less than now, and yet was not half so much acquainted with my ignorance. I had a great dilight in the daily new discoveries which I mude, and of the light which shined in iipon me-like a man that cometh into a country where he nevor was boru-but I little knew either how imperfectly I understood those vry points whose discovery so mnch delighted me, nor how much might be suid against them, por how many things I was yei a stranger to: but now I tind far greater darkness upon all things, and perceive how very little it is that we know, in comparison of that which we are ignorant of, and have far meaner thoughts of my own und rstanding, though I must needs know that it is better furnished than it was then.
Accordingly, I hind then a far higher opinion of learned persons and books than I have now; for what I wanted myself, I thought every reverend divine bad attained, and was familiariy acquainted with; and what books I understood not, by reason of the strangeness of the terms or matter, I the more admired, and thought that others understool their worth. But now experience hath coustrained me against iny will to know, that rever..nd learned men are imperfect, and know but little as well as I, especially those that think themselves the wisest; and the better I am acquainted with them, the more I perceive that we are all yet in the dark: and the inore I am acquaint-d with holy men, that are for heaven, and pretend not much to subtilities, ibe mor-I value and honour them. And when I have studied hard to uuderstand some abstrus: admired book-as Do Scientia D.,' . De Providentia circa Malum,' •D: Decretis,'. De Prædeterminatione,' • De Libertate Creaturæ,' &c. -I hav: but attained the knowledge of human imperfections, and to see that the author is but a man as well as I.
Aud at first I took more upon my author's credit than now I can do; and when an author was hi-lily commeudd to me by others, or pleased me in some part, I was ready to entertain the whole; wher'as now I take and leave in the same author, and dissont in some things from him that I like best, as well as from others.
On the Credit due to History. I am much more cautelon (cautious o wary) in my bilief of history than heretofore: not that I run into their extrm: that will bleve nothing because they cannot believe all things. But I am abundantly sati-ti d by the experience of this age that there is no believing two sorts of mu, uuzouly men and partial inen: though an honest Heathe. of no religion, may b: beneveil, where evinity against religion bingith him not;yit a debauche Christian, besides his enmity to the power and practice of his own religion, is ridom without some further bias of interest or faction ; especially why these concur, and a man is both mgodly and ambitious, espou-ing an interont contrary to a holy heavenly life, and also fuctious, embodying hiingelf with a sect or party suited to his spirit and designs; there is no nelieving his word or oath. If you had any inan prually bitter against others, as ditfering from him in opinion, or as cross to his greatnes, interest, or designs, take hecd how you blieve any more than the historical evidnce, distinct from his word, conpelleth you to bilieve. Th prodigions lies which have been published in this age in matters of lact, with unblushing confidence, even where thousands of nultitudes of eye and ear witnesses knew ali to be falso, doth call men to take heed what history they blive, especially whère power and violence affordeth that privilege to the r_porter, that no man dur answer him or detect his fraud; or if they do, their writings are all supprest. As long as men have liberty to examine and contradict one another, one may parily conjectura, by comparing their words, on which side the truth is like to lie. But when graat men write history, or fat!crers by their appointment, which no man dare coutradict, believe it but as you are constrained. Yet, iu then cass, I can freely believe history: 1. If the person shew that he is acquainted with what he saith. 2. And if he shew you the evidences of honesty and con-cience, and the fear of God, which may be much perceived in the spirit of a writing. 3. li huppear to be impartial and charitable, and a lover of goodness and
of mankind, and not possessed of malignity or personal ill-will and malice, nor carried away by faction or personal interest. Conscionable men dare not lie: but faction and interest abate inen's tenderness of couscience. And a charitable impartial heathen may speak truth in a love to truth, and batred of a le; but ambitious malice and faiso religion will not stick to serve thelle elves on anything Sure I am, that as the lies of the Papists, of Luther, Zwinglius, Calvin, und B za are vis by malic.ous and impudent, by the common plenary contruciicting evidenc': and yet the multitude of their seduced ones be love them all, in de-pit. of truth and charity; so in this ago there have been such things written against parties and persons, whom the writers design to make odious, to notorion-ly false, as yon would think that the sense of their hapour, at least, shoulr have mad. it impofsine for such men to write. My own eyes have read such words and actions as seried with most vehemeni, it-rated, unblushing confidenc., which abundna of car-witne 8-8.
even of their own parties. must needs know to have been allovether fuls..; and the re• fore having myself now written this history of myself, notwithstanding my protestation that I have not in anything wilfully gone against the truth, I expect no more credit from the reader than the self-evidencing light of the matter, with conenrrent rational advantages from pareons, and things, and other witnesses, shall constrain him to, if he be a person that is unacquainted with the author himself, and the other evidences of his veracity and credibiliiy.
Character of Sir Matthew Hale. He was a man of no quick utterance, but spake with great reason. Ile was most precisely just; insomuch that, I believe, he would have lost all be bad in the world rather than do an unjust act. Patient in hearing the most tedious speech which any man had to make for himself. 'l he pillur of justice, the refuge of the subject, who feared oppression, and oue of the greatest honours of bis majesty's government; for, with some other uprigut judges, he upheld the honour of the English nation, that it fell pot into the reproach of arbitrariness, cruelty, and utter confusion. Every man that had a just cause wus almost past fear it be cone but bring it to the court or aseize where he was judge; for the other judges seldom coniradicted him.
He was the gri at instrument for rebuilding London ; for when an act was made for deciding all controversies that hindered it, he was the constant judge, who for nothing followed the work, and, by his prudence anë justice, removed a multitude of great impedimenis.
His great advantage for innocency was, that he was no lover of riches or of grandeur. His garb was too plain; he studiously avoided all unnecessary familiarity with great perfons, and all that mamer of living which signifieth wealth and greatness. He kept no greater a family than myeult. I lived in a small houre, which, for a pleasant back opening, he bad a mind to; but caused a stranges that he might not be ruspected to be the man, to know of me whether I were willing to part with it, before he would meddle with it. In that house lie liver contentilly, without any pomp, and without costly or troublesome retinue or visitors; but not without charity to the poor. He continucd the study of physics and mathematics still, as his great delight. llo had got but a very small eriate, though he had long the greatest practice, because he would take but little money. and undertak.no more business than he could well despatch. He ofien off red to the lord chancellor to resign his place, when he was blamed for doing that which he suppose I was justice. He had been the learned Seldeu's intimate friend, and one of bis ex'entor ; and betanse the Hobbiuna and other infidels would have permitarled the world that Selden was of their mind, desir d him to tell me the truth therein. He aseurid me that Selden was an earnest professor of the Christian faith, and so angry ull auversary to Hobbes, that he hath rated him out of the room.
Observance of the Sabbath in Baxter's Youth. I cannct forget that in my scuih, in thcec latc tur.te, Wlep ve lost the labours of some of our conformable godlydschers, fir lot re: chru prblicly 11!: Loict Sports and dancing on the Lord's D:v, ore cf my fit ipsiwa tenants Wing the
* James 1. published a declaration permitting recreations on Sunday--as dancing, archery, May-games, morris-dances, &c. This was ordered to be read in churcuss. town-piper, hired by the year, for many years together, and the place of the dancing assembly was not a hundred yards from our door. We could not, on the Lord's Day, either read a chapter, or pray, or sing a pealm, or catechise, or instruct a servant, but with the noise of the pipe and tabor, and the shoutings in the street, continually in our ears. Even among i tractable people, we were the common scoru of all the rahble in the streets, and called puritans, precisians, and hypocrites, because we rather chose to read the Scriptures than to do as they did ; though there was no savour of nonconformity in our family. And when the people by the book were allowed to play and dance out of public service-tiine, they could so hardly break off their sports, that many a time the reader was fain to stay till the piper and players would give over. Sometimes the morris-dancers would come into the church in all their liven and scarfs, and antic dresses, with morris-bells jingling at their legs; and as soon as common prayer was read, did haste out presently to their play again.
Theological Controversies. My mind being these many years immersed in studies of this nature, and having also long wearied myself in searching what fathers and schoolmen have said of such things before us, and my genius abhorring confusion and equivocals, I came, by many years' longer study, to perceive that most of the doctrinal controversies among Protestants are fur inore about equivocal words than matter; and it wounded my soul to perceive what work both tyrannical and unskilful disputing clergymen had made these thirteen hundred years in the world! Experience, since the year 1643, till this year, 1675, hath loudly called me to repent of my own prejudices, sidings, and censurings of causes and persons not understood, and of all the miscarriages of my ministry and life which have been thereby caused; and to make it my chief work to call nen that are within my hearing to more peaceable tboughts, affections, and practices. And my endeavours have not been in vain, in that the ministers of the county where I lived were very many of such a peaceable temper, and a great number more through the land, by God's grace, rather than any endeavours of mine, are so minded. But the sons of the cowl were exasperated the more against me, and accounted him to be against every man that called all men to love and peace, and was for no man as in the contrary way.
John BUNYAN (1628–1688), the son of a tinker residing at Elstow. in Bedfordshire, is one of the most remarkable of English authors. He was taught in childhood to read and write, and alterwards, hav. ing resolved to follow his father's occupation, travelled for many years about the country in the usual gipsy-life of his profession. At ihis time he is represented to have been sink in profligacy and wick. cuness; but, like m:ny other religious enthusiasts, Bunyan exagge rated the depravity of his unregenerated condition, and his biographers have too literally taken bim at his word. Ringing bells, dancing, and playing at hockey were included among his sinful propensities. Ile was also addicted to profane swearing; but on a woman remonstrating with him as to this vice, he at once abandoned it. His early marriage, at the age of nineteen, saved him from another species of wickedness. And as Macaulay bas remarked, 'ibose horrible internal conflicts which Bunyan has described with so much power of Jinguage, prove, not that he was a worse man than his neiglıbours, but thar l.is mind was constintly occupied by roligious consideraThe act, hotrrer. was not enforced in the reign of James. bnt it was renewed by Charles 1. The clergy who refused to read this edici ur Book of Sports from the pulpit, were punished by suspension or expulsion.