they were. This may be illustrated by the incident with which the passage we have quoted from Mr. Carlyle is introduced. That incident is a real fact. Fox did make himself a suit of leather in preparation for his work; and he did so, not from any fantastic notion he entertained on the subject of dress, but from mere simplicity of intention. When he set about travelling from place to place, he looked out, in anticipation of the dangers to which he would be exposed, for such clothes as would best stand wear and tear. He rightly judged that in this respect there was nothing like leather; and having the material at hand, he wrought it up into the garments he wanted. This was quite characteristic of the man; and we can readily believe that he was so possessed of the one idea of utility in the case, as to have been unconscious of the strange appearance he presented to the public eye. Sewell, the Quaker historian, who was personally acquainted with Fox, gives the explanation of this circumstance which we have adopted; but Fox himself makes no allusion to it, except when he quotes the popular language in which it is referred to. Such simplicity distinguished him always and in every thing. He went straight forward to his object, whatever it was, without any regard to the opposing views and conduct of others. He was in no sense the creature of society; but he followed the guidance of his own reason and conscience through evil as well as through good report. Though in the world, he lived not as one of the world; and he persevered in the course he believed to be right and obligatory, suffering nothing to turn him aside until his purpose was accomplished. Such a man could not but succeed, if he had any thing in him worthy of success.

We have not, however, yet reached the real secret of his power. That secret lay in the religion he cultivated and applied. In order that we may form a just estimate of him, we must direct our attention specially to that.

Penn, in the character which he has drawn of Fox, thus alludes to a peculiarity in his mode of setting forth his thoughts, which was, we think, strikingly distinctive of the man:

"He was a man," says he, "that God endued with a clear and wonderful depth, a discerner of others' spirits, and very much a master of his own. And though the side of his understanding which lay next to the world, and especially the expression of it, might sound uncouth and unfashionable to nice ears, his matter was nevertheless very profound; and would not only bear to be often considered, but the more it was so, the more weighty and instructive it appeared. And as abruptly and brokenly as sometimes his sentences would fall from him about divine things, it is well known they were often as texts to many fairer declarations."*

What is here said of his speech, we feel to be singularly true of his writings. To us, it forms the greatest charm of those writings. We are continually fixed by their depth, their profundity. There is a hidden meaning in them which reveals itself more and more at each renewed application of the mind to it. To read his Journal is to experience all the excitement which attends upon piercing a mystery. The noble personal qualities it displays, and the scenes of absorbing interest through which it conducts us, are subordinate to the religious and

Preface to Fox's Journal, p. xxxviii.

moral problems which it sets us to solve. There are few intellectual exercises for which we feel greater zest than we do for that supplied by our attempts to fathom the dark and strange language in which the prophet of Quakerism struggles to utter the conceptions that overwhelmed his heart. Repeated trials have convinced us that it is an honest and earnest endeavour to proclaim the burden of the Lord, which we are called to witness, and not any assumption of mystery for purposes of effect.

66

Penn

The peculiarity under our notice is explained by Penn, as "shewing beyond all contradiction that God sent him; that no arts or parts had any share in the matter or manner of his ministry; and that so many great, excellent and necessary truths as he came forth to preach to mankind, had therefore nothing of man's wit or wisdom to recommend them; so that as to man he was an original, being no man's copy.' This is, however, a very weak attempt at interpreting the case. differed from his master in that he was not much of a discerner of others' spirits." With all our respect for him, we are afraid he, in some measure, merited Bishop Burnet's description, that "he was a talking, vain man," who " had a tedious, luscious way" with him. In this instance he has not hit the mark. It was not originality, but insight, which gave rise to Fox's uncouth expressions and abrupt and broken sentences. Those spiritual and eternal realities in the contemplation of which his mind was centred, really possess the mystery he connected with them. They are the grand mysteries with which man has to do. On every side they stretch around us into unfathomable depths. He who rightly apprehends their nature, is filled with awe of their mysteriousness. He, on the contrary, whose religion is limited. to what he can explain, has no adequate apprehension of the truths on which religion turns. To some men it is given to see farther toward the heart of those truths than it is to others; and their expositions, though approaching nearer to a revelation of the matter after which they strive, specially partake of the hidden character of that matter. Such expositions are at once far in advance of the notions with which the common understanding contents itself, and yet more affected with a consciousness of the distance which is still unattainable. Here is a double cause of the darkness complained of, though the men against whom the complaint is urged are in reality "children of" a brighter "light." Fox was one of these men. It was the ruling purpose of his being to live under the influence of the presence and in the enjoyment of the communion of God. This purpose he fulfilled. "His conversation was in heaven." His was

"A life whose holy springs

Were hidden and divine."

He reached a condition in which the sublimities of the purest and highest devotion were the ordinary materials of his experience. Thus dwelling in God, he perceived the things of God with an acuter sense of their nature, and a stronger feeling of their power, than belong not only to men in general, but even to good men of the usual class. He tried to communicate what he saw and felt. The duty of endeavouring to express that which he knew of the inexpressible, was directly im

* Preface to Fox's Journal, p. xxxix.

posed upon him by the Master whom he served. To this he was called, and woe unto him if he did not preach the gospel with which he had been entrusted. He obeyed the call. He strove hard, by spoken and written word, to open to others the true path to the unutterable blessing and glory, the possession of which he enjoyed. He did his best; but that best, from the very necessities of the case, was imperfect, and bears the outward appearance of imperfection. Its imperfection is manifested in the curious forms assumed by the language he employed. To some who pay to it the requisite attention, that language may be really unintelligible; to the many who regard it in a spirit of carelessness, it may seem ridiculous and absurd; but, if we may judge from what has happened to ourselves, it answers, with a moral fidelity, to what we have already described as the insight, the superior insight, of the man who used it. This, at least, we believe to be generally the case, though there are exceptions to it. The failure is sometimes to be attributed to personal infirmity. The true light is, here and there, confused by a false reflection from the soul on which it falls; but the unavoidable weakness of the instrument through which it is conveyed, is the normal rule by which the difficulties of the subject are to be explained. There is one circumstance mentioned by Penn concerning Fox which comes home to us, as a special and powerful confirmation of the view of him we have just given. We refer to the remarkable gift of prayer which he had. When he himself thus expressed before God the feelings and aspirations with which his own heart was charged, the sincerity and earnestness of the religion he cultivated found a response in every heart. His deep thought and ardent desire vindicated their real character as they were thus seen in their purely natural connection. As applied to others they would lose much of their native force; but when presented in the genuine form which his individual experience gave to them, that force was fully declared. There is that, too, in the very nature of prayer, which brings out in its true likeness the inmost emotions of a spirit like his. The nearness to God which it acknowledges, the divine union which it cultivates, the effort to grasp the infinite which it makes,-all this contributes to give it a religious elevation by which it becomes the most perfect exhibition of the relations between God and man of which we are capable. Penn's words on the point which has suggested these remarks are as follows:

"Above all he excelled in prayer. The inwardness and weight of his spirit, the reverence and solemnity of his address and behaviour, and the fewness and fulness of his words, have often struck even strangers with admiration as they used to reach others with consolation. The most awful, living, reverent frame I ever felt or beheld, I must say was his in prayer. And truly it was a testimony he knew and lived nearer to the Lord than other men; for they that know him most will see most reason to approach him with reverence and fear."

We do not wish to be understood as saying that, in our opinion, Fox's conceptions of divine truth were always, in the logical sense of the term, clear to his own mind. So far from this being correct, the opposite was very often the case. Such clearness is not always to be reached under the most favourable circumstances; and his circum

*Preface to Fox's Journal, p. xl.

stances were in some respects peculiarly unfavourable to it. His limited education, the natural cast of his intellect, and the habits of his life, placed him in a position of great disadvantage for the acquirement of a clearness to which others might have attained. We have already said that he was overwhelmed by his own thoughts, and that the gospel he had to preach was a burden to him. It was not an easy matter with him either to carry that burden himself or to deliver it to the world. He laboured and struggled at his work, and there are constant evidences of the conflict which was passing within him. His was a course of spiritual contention, though it was a course of victory too.

There was, however, one point, and that the central point of his spiritual experience, which was invariably clear as the sunshine to him. We allude to the faith he had in that doctrine of the Inward Light which constituted the essential basis and ruling principle of all his other doctrines. For the knowledge of that he had sacrificed all besides, and he ever held it fast as his dearest treasure. By it he guided his own conduct universally; and it was the one great aim of all his converse among men to bring them under its influence. It realized to him the scripture which saith, "In thy light shall we see light." To the doctrine he thus taught the great effect of his ministry is to be traced as to its primary cause. Had he, indeed, possessed a less vivid perception of that doctrine, the remarkable depth and elevation of his religious character would have irresistibly attracted mankind to him; for even in the vain and light-hearted there is an involuntary acknowledgment of the mysterious grandeur of the spiritual objects they neglect. The hearts of all men are in the hand of the Lord, and they cannot but respond to every revelation of his nature and will which is worthy of the subject. But Fox's power over his fellows was not only or chiefly a matter of character. It was a matter of religious truth. He had a theology which he expounded, as well as a practical excellence which he displayed; and it was the plain and forcible word of instruction he delivered by which those who listened to him wcre sanctified. His doctrine rose like day-spring upon the benighted mind; it descended like rain into the thirsty soul; and men rejoiced in it as at the opening of a new era of Christian truth and blessing.

Now what was the doctrine which had this operation upon society? We will first present it in Fox's own words, selecting for that purpose one of the numerous passages in which he professedly states the great design of the work to which he felt himself called. Perhaps we cannot do better than copy part of the account he gives of the first reception of that call.

"Now the Lord opened to me by his invisible power, that every man was enlightened by the divine light of Christ;' and I saw it shine through all; and that they that believed in it came out of condemnation to the light of life, and became the children of it; but they that hated it, and did not believe in it, were condemned by it, though they made a profession of Christ. This I saw in the pure openings of the light, without the help of any man; neither did I then know where to find it in the Scriptures, though afterwards, searching the Scriptures, I found it. For I saw in that Light and Spirit which was before the Scriptures were given forth, and which led the holy men of God to give them forth, that all must come to that Spirit, if they would know God or Christ or the Scriptures aright, which they that gave them forth were led and

taught by.... I was sent to turn people from darkness to the light, that they might receive Christ Jesus; for to as many as should receive him in his light, I saw that he would give power to become the sons of God; which I had obtained by receiving Christ. I was to direct people to the Spirit that gave forth the Scriptures, by which they might be led into all truth, and so up to Christ and God, as they had been who gave them forth. I was to turn them to the grace of God, and to the truth in the heart, which came by Jesus; that by this grace they might be taught, which would bring them salvation, that their hearts might be established by it, and their words might be seasoned, and all might come to know their salvation nigh. I saw that Christ died for all men, and was a propitiation for all, and enlightened all men and women with his divine and saving light; and that none could be a true believer but who believed in it. I saw that the grace of God which brings salvation had appeared to all men, and that the manifestation of the Spirit of God was given to every man to profit withal."

This is a very powerful statement; but to many persons it may appear somewhat loose. We shall therefore add to it a passage from Barclay's Apology, in which the same doctrine is presented in the precisest possible form. Barclay was a man of a very differently constructed mind from Fox. He was a great and learned man of the argumentative class-we would have said of the rational class, if that phrase did not, by its common use, convey a sense much below the truth in this case, for Barclay lived in the region of pure spiritualism no less completely than did Fox himself. The tendency of his mind led him to test by a severe logic all that is capable of being so tried. He was a friend and companion of Fox, and it was his office to systematize Quakerism as it was held by its first apostle. In doing so, he has produced a masterly work. Differing from it in some very important points as we do, we are still disposed to rank it among the very best treatises on Christian theology which exist. He thus lays down the doctrine of the Inward Light:

"That God, who out of his infinite love sent his Son, the Lord Jesus Christ, into the world, who tasted death for every man, hath given to every man, whether Jew or Gentile, Turk or Scythian, Indian or Barbarian, of whatsoever nation, country or place, a certain day or time of visitation; during which day or time it is possible for them to be saved, and to partake of the fruit of Christ's death.

"That for this end God hath communicated and given unto every man a measure of the Light of his own Son, a measure of Grace, or a measure of the Spirit, which the Scripture expresses by several names, as sometimes of the seed of the kingdom, Matt. xiii. 18, 19; the light that makes all things manifest, Ephes. v. 13; the word of God, Rom. x. 17; or manifestation of the Spirit given to profit withal, 1 Cor. xii. 7; a talent, Matt. xxv. 15; a little leaven, Matt. xiii. 33; the gospel preached in every creature, Col. i. 23.

"That God, in and by this Light and Seed, invites, calls, exhorts and strives with every man in order to save him, which, as it is received and not resisted, works the salvation of all, even of those who are ignorant of the death and sufferings of Christ and of Adam's fall, both by bringing them to a sense of their own misery, and to be sharers in the sufferings of Christ inwardly, and by making them partakers of his resurrection, in becoming holy, pure and righteous, and recovered out of their sins. By which also are saved they that have the knowledge of Christ outwardly, in that it opens their understanding rightly to use and apply the things delivered in the Scriptures, and to receive

* Fox's Journal, Vol. I. pp. 111, 112.