was to follow the openings of Providence. They did follow them-let it be here acknowledged-with moderation and even with humility. There seemed to be the stillness occasioned by awe of the present Deity. Magnanimity and mercy presided in the breasts of princes, at their councils and over their armies. The voice of the people was practically acknowledged to be the voice of God, and thus the great vital principle of legislation and government which it was the earliest object of the war to extinguish, was in its issue acknowledged and confirmed. If the principle shall be hereafter generally recognized and revered, we may say, in adoration of the mysteries of Divine Providence, that the revolutions and calamities of a quarter of a century will not have been in vain.

"In the terms of pacification there is something to deplore, though much to admire. The unexpected, unaccountable provision for the revival of the Slavetrade has already excited in the public a sentiment of disgust and indignation which clears our national character from reproach; but perhaps we are not sufficiently alive to the injustice and cruelty of dooming one virtuous and happy people as a sacrifice to the peace of Europe. On behalf of the high contracting Powers it must be admitted that the resistance of Norway was not to have been expected; but surely it would have been more consistent with their general equity and magnanimity to have adopted new and conciliatory measures on discovering the spirit, the noble spirit, of that patriotic country: it may not be yet too late, the unintended, unforeseen injustice to Norway may be compensated at the approaching general Congress; and in prospect of such a desirable event, it is only to be wished that the people of this free and enlightened country had, in the constitutional mode of expressing their sentiments, united the wrongs of the Norwegians with those of the Africans.

"With these abatements, the Treaty of Peace is entitled to our unqualified praise: it was framed in the spirit of peace. The parties to it appear neither as conquerors nor as conquered. There is no assumption on the one side, nor submission on the other: there is no triumph, no degradation. Admirable provisions have been made for preserving the balance of power and the independence of the several European states; and, with the blessing of Providence, we may look forward to peace and happiness for ourselves, and our children and our children's children."

The

Mr. Aspland cheerfully united with the Dissenting Ministers of the Three Denominations in preparing and presenting an Address of congratulation to the Prince Regent on the restoration of Peace. The Address was read by Dr. Rippon. It contained a strong expression of regret at the renewal of the Slave-trade on the part of France. reception of the ministers on the occasion was described as gracious and cordial; but neither in his diary nor in any of his letters does there appear any particular allusion to this, which was probably his first visit to the Court of the Sovereign. He was not singular in feeling little respect at any time for the personal character of George IV. The letter that follows is dated on the day preceding that of the presentation of the Address.

Rev. Thomas Belsham to Rev. Robert Aspland.

"Essex Street, July 27, 1814. "My dear Sir,-I have no holidays this year but what Mr. Joyce allows me while I take a journey in the months of August and September. I should be happy to assist you on the day you mention, but it is our Communion-day, and the last day of my preaching in Essex Street before I enter upon my journey. "I can do nothing for Brighton but raise a little money. In this way I can

*

*The reference is to the new Unitarian chapel at Brighton.

engage for a guinea a day for twenty mornings during the season; but where to look for supplies I am utterly at a loss; and being so soon about to set off upon my journey, I can take no active part.

66

Happy you that are about to figure in the splendour of the Regent's Court! On some accounts, I should not much dislike to be one of the party. But I absented myself because I thought I should be out of town when the Address was carried up. Had it been an open Committee, which it might have been, I might perhaps still have joined you. I admire the Address much, and I doubt not you will be most graciously received.*

“I give you joy on the late addition to your family, and the safety both of the mother and the child. May your comfort increase as your family enlarges ! "I am happy if my Thanksgiving Sermon met with your approbation.† When shall we see yours? Some of my friends who heard it were highly gratified. You warn me to expect censure. But I flattered myself that everybody would concur with me in the expectation of the latter-day glory of the Church.

"The silly Bishop of St. David's has been making another violent attack upon me in the Gentleman's Magazine, and I have been busy the last two or three days in answering a fool according to his folly; but I doubt whether Mr. Urban will receive it.

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My sister unites in affectionate respects and congratulations to yourself and Mrs. Aspland, with, dear Sir, yours very sincerely, T. BELSHAM." Shortly after this, Mr. Aspland underwent great anxiety respecting his excellent mother, whose age and declining health warned him that her departure could not be very distant. Instances have already been given of the depth and tenderness of his filial affection. It had been his strongly-expressed and repeated wish that his surviving parent should find a shelter in her widowhood under his own roof. But, with characteristic good sense and self-denial, she declined his filial offer, on the ground that her simple and independent habits, suitable enough for a retired country village, would not harmonize with those of a large household in the vicinity of the metropolis. Disappointed in his wish of personally ministering to her comforts, he soothed her declining years by frequent visits, and by letters (written in large characters, suitable to her failing sight) much more frequent, in which, with patient kindness, he detailed all those little family incidents, the relation of which is inexpressibly interesting to an affectionate relative. Here and there are references to passing events of a more public character, a few of which are subjoined.

"April 13, 1814.-All other news is swallowed up in that from France, which overwhelms us with astonishment. Who could have believed that the great Emperor would have ended his career as a fugitive and captive! Peace, thanks to Providence! is the joyful result, and I hope it will be found that the cause of Liberty has not suffered by twenty years of bloodshed.

"The children are at home for the Easter holidays. Last night they had a treat in seeing the illuminations, which I suppose are to be repeated this evening, if not to-morrow. I put up a few candles to save my windows; but I reserve myself for the signing of the definitive treaty, when I promise the

* The Address and the Prince Regent's Answer will be found in the Monthly Repository, IX. 516, 517.

†The Sermon was entitled, "The Prospect of Perpetual and Universal Peace." In a review of it, Mr. Aspland commended the argument as weighty and the sentiment as delightful.

The reply to Bishop Burgess was admitted by the Editor of the Gentleman's Magazine. Both the attack and the reply were reprinted in the Monthly Repository, IX. 602–610.

young folks a bonfire. I never lighted up for a victory, but I can do it honestly on such an occasion as this."

"June 28.-My friend Ben. Flower is leaving Harlow. Brook and I paid him a parting visit last week. Thus Providence brings friends together for a little while and then separates them. Happy country beyond the grave, where there is no parting!"

"August 13.-My friend Madge, of Norwich, is coming up to town next week, which will enable me to go down for the following Sunday to Brighton. The Sunday after, should my supplies hold out, I shall probably be at Reading. After that, the Academy commences, and I must consider myself a close prisoner till Midsummer, unless the frost should enable me to give you a few days, which I much wish, at Christmas. But I am writing about distant times, whereas we know not what shall be on the morrow. Let us then commend ourselves to the care and keeping of Heaven, and rejoice only that our times are in the hands of God.

"My newspaper this morning hints at something alarming in the state of the Continent, on account of which Parliament is to meet unusually soon. Napoleon is reported to have left his island. Some scheme may be planning which will require his military skill. The home news is, that the Princess of Wales has left England; everybody wonders why? I suspect that, whatever may be the cause of her departure, the Prince meditates a divorce and is dreaming of a new wife.”

"Nov. 14.-At this period of the year,* dear Mother, it is natural that you should feel oppressed with heavy thoughts; but at the same time we are Christians, and cannot sorrow without hope. Every year, as it passes, shortens the distance between us and departed friends. After some few more revolutions of years, all that have lived will live again, and live together, and live for ever. We had yesterday an annual collection for discharging the debt on our building. We have just agreed to purchase a piece of ground on the north side of the meeting, for the sake of enlarging the burial-ground. This will cost us £250. One of the reasons for the purchase is, that by it we shall make it possible to enlarge the meeting-house, of which the want of accommodation for an increasing congregation makes us think."

"April 17, 1815.-You saw probably by the Repository that I was to preach for the Unitarian Society for distributing Books, at Essex Street, on Thursday last. We had a good congregation. I preached a long sermon, the greater part of it in the midst of a thunder-storm. The sermon is, much against my will, to be printed."+

"May 29.-We have now got through the bustle of Whitsuntide. Our meeting was numerous and pleasant. Mr. Madge gave us an admirable sermon, which is to be printed. War is, I fear, certain. The end must

be left to Providence; but whatever it be, this country must suffer. "Poor Andrew Fuller is, it seems, gone. It will, I doubt not, fare better with him than he was disposed to allow or to wish with regard to some others. An infirm temper and a narrow education kept him the dictator of a mere party, though his talents were adapted for more extensive usefulness. However, it is pleasant to think he will rise, or soon become a different man, at the resurrection of the just."

"October 20.-Next month we begin the Unitarian winter campaign. I have to superintend our Wednesday-evening conferences, to deliver a lecture

It was the month in which, ten years previously, his father died. †The sermon was entitled, "The Power of Truth." It contains some fine passages, but is as a whole less complete than his printed sermons usually are. Mr. Fuller died May 7, 1815, aged 61.

to the young at the close of the morning's service, and to take part in three courses of lectures, namely, at Parliament Court and St. Thomas's on Sunday evening, and at Worship Street on Thursday evening. This, in addition to other duties, will be no light work, but, with health and the blessing of God, I hope to reach the spring in comfort."

"Nov. 14.-I rejoice that the last accounts of you were so favourable, though I have been much disappointed in Saturday's box not being yet arrived, for by that I expected a letter in your own hand. I thought of you much

last night, for in consequence of our being infested with thieves, I was obliged to scour and load and fire off your pistols. We shall probably give the rogues the same warning often during the winter, which threatens to be one of many crimes. But do not be alarmed for us. We have a house full of folks, and some of us are strong-boned and stout-hearted, and nearly six feet high.”

Early in the following year, he was summoned to Wicken by the tidings of his mother's increasing illness. He stayed with her to the close of her life. It is not without much hesitation that the two letters which follow, written from the house of mourning, are inserted in this Memoir. While it has been felt that some portions of them express feelings too sacred for the eye of strangers, yet, as a whole, they give so clear an insight into one portion of the writer's character, that biographical fidelity requires their insertion.

Rev. Robert Aspland to Mrs. Aspland.

"Wicken, Sunday Morning, February 4, 1816. "My very dear Sara,-I have a melancholy satisfaction in telling you that the conflict is over, and that my dear mother has entered upon her long sabbath. She breathed her last ten minutes before nine o'clock last night. Her faculties were bright to the very moment of dissolution, and to her probably, to me certainly, it was a consolation that I received her parting breath, and that her hand was locked in mine in the final struggle.

"O, that moment! I felt the power of death. Never will the image be erased from my mind or heart. God of our fathers! what is man? what the condition of our nature? Alas! 'the bliss of dying' is the impertinence of a song. It is, as my dear mother told me again and again, hard work. Her sufferings for the last week were beyond description: she longed and prayed for death, and the King of Terrors really approached as her deliverer. Since Sunday she had not been in bed: on Wednesday she took to an easy chair in the parlour, where she expired. Besides her principal complaint, her weariness and watchfulness and the soreness of her limbs were sufficient to have put an end to her life. It appeared that she had a presentiment upon her mind of a lingering and painful death. Her sighs and groans, and her articulate prayers, were for as easy a dismission as was consistent with the will of Providence. Yet, do not fear, my love, that she was in religious trouble of mind. No: her views of the other world were commonly clear, and her feelings frequently broke out in comforting passages of holy Scripture: the last words that she uttered, and this in the article of death, were, Pray, Father; and these were repeated. She had some time before (a few minutes only) repeated with unwonted strength, Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden-here her breath failed, and I took up the remainder of the delightful words-And I will give you rest-and her looks, directed towards me, expressed hope and satisfaction.

"Thank merciful Heaven, the corpse is most lovely! I gaze upon it with more of pleasure than pain. No more sorrow, as the dear sufferer frequently said; no more care and anxious and sad expectation. I still see the smile that allured my infant feelings, and I can hardly believe, as I stand beside the bed, that the form is not about to awake refreshed out of sleep. But this sleep

will last through the night, and I shall not see her again conscious and intelligent until the last morning.

"In this trial, how have I wanted your sympathy and counsel! yet it would have been too much for you-but oh! my dear Sara, must one of us in all probability be to the other what I have been and shall long be to my mother, a sad, helpless spectator, a bowed-down mourner! The Father of mercies spare us in the failing of heart and flesh!

"Be so good as write on Tuesday without fail, and let the direction be in a large and legible hand: your letter will then come to comfort me after the melancholy duties of Wednesday.

"In all respects, this is a dreary sabbath. We shall endeavour to lighten it by a religious service with a few friends here in the evening; amongst them, and chief, my uncle William's family, who have been most affectionate in their attentions.

"Farewell, my very dear wife; give my love to the dear children and Anna, and believe me yours,

R. A."

"Wicken, Thursday.

"My dear Sara,-Your kind letter came into my hands last night, and was soothing to my spirits, after the melancholy preparations and agitating duties of the day. Long may we be spared (if such be the will of the Supreme Disposer) to support and comfort each other!

"The funeral took place yesterday. It had been made easier to me by my dear mother's having, as you know, given precise directions concerning it. These were of course punctually fulfilled, and in their fulfilment we saw with sad satisfaction new proofs of that practical wisdom for which, in her own station, my mother was eminently distinguished.

"The coffin was of oak, with little ornament, and nothing black except the face of the inscription-plate. The body was dressed in the clothes worn by the dear deceased, all white, and the head rested upon a pillow. The lining of the coffin was flannel. How much simpler and better than the customary trappings of undertakers! To the last, the corpse was a pleasing objectpleasing at least to me. I closed the lid with my own hands, taking a reluctant leave for ever of a form interesting to me through a thousand recollections. "By her own desire, none but my uncle's family were invited to the funeral. The clergyman attended at the house-not the curate, but the incumbent -this we took as a mark of respect. The body was borne by eight poor men, chiefly such as were under pecuniary obligations to my mother; they returned to the house to have a plain meal and a dollar each. Though so few were invited, the procession was not small; the greater part of the inhabitants of the village attended us to church. In the midst of the service there was sung a hymn from my Selection, Why do we mourn departing friends, &c. The body was finally placed upon my dear father's-a cold bed, but one of which the expectation gave pleasure to at least the former of these sufferers. Having performed the obsequies, we returned to a house which, in the absence of even the corpse, appeared to me empty.

"We had a bitter day, but the frost and snow made the roads more passable. I took it as a peculiar mark of respect that the surveyors of the parish had the path swept by the parish labourers all the way up to the church.*

"Write on Saturday; I shall want comfort on the Sunday. I have the funeral sermon to deliver in the afternoon; the service begins soon after two; the text allotted me is 1 Pet. i. 4. I long to be with you, though my mind will linger about this spot. Your own

ROBERT."

The letter goes on to detail his intentions with respect to his mother's property, his purpose to double the legacies left by her to relations, and to present a" memorial of gratitude" to one relative who had been very kind to her in her sickness.