it almost impossible for him to proceed. To this kind of perplexity he never again exposed himself.

The nation had scarcely tasted the blessings of peace, when a dispute on one of the articles of the treaty of Amiens involved us in a fresh war with the French. Buonaparte, then First Consul, aware of the British ascendency at sea, resolved first to attack our continental dominions. He, also, seized on the persons and property of the numerous English who had visited France during the brief interval of peace, detaining them as prisoners of war; and then menaced this country with invasion. So strange, and in some respects, so atrocious a commencement of hostilities, had a singular effect in melting down dissension, and diffusing a spirit of almost unexampled unanimity, among all ranks and classes of the community. To adopt Mr. Hall's emphatic language: "It was a struggle for exist"ence, not for empire. It must surely be regarded as a happy "circumstance that the contest did not take this shape at an "earlier period, while many were deceived by certain specious "pretences of liberty into a favourable opinion of our enemy's "designs. The popular delusion had passed; the most unexampled prodigies of guilt had dispelled it; and, after a series "of rapine and cruelty, had torn from every heart the last "fibres of mistaken partiality."* At this momentous period Mr. Hall's love of his country was again signally evinced. On the fast day, 19th October, 1803, he preached at Bristol, where he was then on a visit, a sermon afterwards published,— "The Sentiments proper to the Present Crisis," which had the happiest effect in enkindling the flame of generous, active patriotism.

This sermon, perhaps, excited more general admiration than any of the author's former productions; on account of its masterly exposure of prevailing errors, its original and philosophical defence of some momentous truths, and its remarkable appropriateness to the exigencies of the crisis. The last ten pages were thought by many (and by Mr. Pitt, among the number) to be fully equal in genuine eloquence to any passage of the same length that can be selected from either ancient or modern orators. They were re-printed in various periodical publications, and widely circulated in every direction; and they evidently suggested some of the finest thoughts in Sir James * See Vol. I. p. 184.

Mackintosh's splendid defence of Peltier, the Editor of L'Ambigu, who was tried in London for a libel on Buonaparte.

In an old manuscript of Mr. Hall's, containing outline notes of sermons preached by him in 1801, 1802, and 1803, scarcely any of them occupying more than two pages, there are inserted the first rude sketch of this valuable sermon, and, at the distance of several pages, a few hints of thoughts and sentences designed to be introduced near the close.

"I. Particulars in which our notions are wrong, or we speak not aright,' with regard to national judgments.

"1. Political speculations on the secondary causes of our calamities, exclusive of a regard to the hand of God.

"2. Wanton and indiscriminate censure of the conduct of our rulers.

"We are permitted within.... limits to animadvert on the measures of government.

"3. A confidence in an arm of flesh.

"Cursed is man, &c.

"4. A reliance on our supposed superior virtue.

"5. General lamentations on the corruptions of the age.

"Right sentiments. An acknowledgement of the justice and dominion of God.

"Sincere confession of our sins.

Such was the original synopsis. worked in towards the close of the

Dan. ix. 8. Zech. x. 11, &c."

The hints intended to be sermon, are as below.

"Eternal God! (O thou,) who hast at once declared thyself the God of Peace and the Lord of Hosts, go forth with our armies, and shelter (shield) their heads in the day of battle: give them (endow them with) that undaunted courage, that ..... from trouble which springs from a sense of thy presence.

"Under thy conduct, and fighting under thy banners, we will employ all the resources which lie within our reach, ..... without trusting in an arm of flesh..... while we behold with the eye of faith, what thy prophet discerned in ancient times, the plains filled with horses of fire and chariots of fire.

"There is surely not one person here who will tempt himself to ..... by the fear of death, when he reflects that, in the failure of this great enterprise, should the crisis arrive, he must feel a thousand deaths in the extinction of religion, in the spoliation of property, in the violation of chastity, in the confusion of all orders ..... when all that is noble or holy will be trampled upon ..... when death

would be sought with the avidity of triumphs will be felt in . . ... mourn

.....

.....

when the enemies'

freedom entombed."

I have here presented the incipient germs of thought and expression, in this extraordinary production, from a persuasion that the man of research into the operations of intellect will be deeply interested on comparing them with their finished result, as exhibited in the first volume.

On looking back upon the preceding pages, I perceive that I shall have laid myself open to the charge of dwelling too long upon that portion of Mr. Hall's life during which I also resided at Cambridge. Let me simply observe, then, that it was the portion in which his fine character assumed, by the means I have been tracing, its true place in public estimation; and that I may be forgiven if I have thus dwelt upon that bright period of my own existence in which I was open to the constant influence of association with one so pre-eminent in mental and moral excellence. Yet I am not disposed to allow the interesting memory of a long friendship to interfere with biographical fidelity. I have spoken of Mr. Hall's richer qualities agreeably to the estimate I then formed, but, with a conviction that they had not at that period reached their full maturity and vigour. I shall now advert to a few of his defects, but with an equally strong persuasion that they diminished as his age, and judgement, and piety advanced.

I have already remarked that Mr. Hall was impetuous in argument. I must here add that he sometimes contended more for victory than for truth. I never knew him voluntarily take what he believed to be the wrong side of an argument, for the sake of shewing how adroitly he could carry on the advocacy of any opinions which he, for the moment, took the fancy to maintain; but, if ever he precipitated himself into the assertion of erroneous sentiment, he would strenuously defend his opinion; and, on such occasions, would seem more pleased with perplexing and confounding his opponents, than with faithfully endeavouring to set either them or himself right. This habit was very much restrained, if not altogether overcome, in the latter part of his life. Be it observed, however, that at no time did it tempt him to trifle with the sanctities of religion.

Besides this yielding to the temptation of making the matter of truth and error a prize for contest, there was another thing

which, in social life, depreciated the practical value of his great ability, namely, a random carelessness in throwing out opinions and estimates of subjects, books, or men. Many of those opinions were graphically correct, and highly valuable, and they were usually clothed in an aphorismatic terseness of language; yet, were too often such, that plain, credulouslisteners for instruction, regarding him as an oracle, would leave him with incorrect and fallacious notions of the topics on which he had spoken, and would, therefore, be strangely perplexed two or three weeks afterwards, on hearing, or hearing reported, contrary opinions on the same subjects stated by him subsequently, when farther investigation had corrected his judgement. Sometimes, too, especially when indulging in panegyric, he would, even in conversation, give himself up to the feelings of the orator, and allow his fancy to escape into the ideal, sketching the picture then existing in his own thoughts, rather than that of the individual whom he imagined himself describing.

It was also much to be regretted, that when in company he did not keep habitually in view the good which his great talents and high character qualified him to impart. His conversation, though always conveying information on the various subjects generally brought forward in cultivated society, did not indicate the prevailing purpose of leading the minds of others in a right direction. Or, if he entered society with this determination, he frequently permitted the circumstances into which he was thrown, to divert him from his purpose, thus giving away his admirable conversational powers to the mere casual train of topics, many of them trivial in interest. There could not but be various acute remarks, and every now and then a piece of valuable disquisition, or a most important sentiment, or an eloquent flow of striking observations; yet there was not a systematic bearing toward positive utility. Often, indeed, has Mr. Hall lamented this defect: often, as we have been returning from a party which he had kept alive by the brilliancy and variety of his observations, has he said, "Ah! Sir, I have again "contributed to the loss of an evening, as to every thing truly "valuable: go home with me, that we may spend at least one "hour in a manner which becomes us.'

It should be added, however, that it was only in larger parties that this eccurred. I never spent an evening with him alone,

or with the addition of one or two select companions, in which the sublimer purposes of religious as well as intellectual intercourse were not prevailingly kept in view.

In adverting to the deficiencies in Mr. Hall's character, I must, farther, remark that he did not always seem adequately alive to special modes and efforts of utility. There were times when his apparent indifference must have been thought scarcely compatible with his uniform benevolence and piety, unless by those who were thoroughly aware that his infirmities often compelled him to avoid active exertions, except those which fell within the range of ministerial duty: yet, at other seasons, he exerted himself so powerfully and successfully in favour of some grand object, as, in great measure, to compensate for his habitually avoiding the ordinary detail of minor operations.

His defects, on whatever occasions they shewed themselves, were as remote as possible from littleness, and were such as would be most naturally found in a noble character. We may hence learn, however, that a man, though far enriched above his fellows with intellectual and spiritual endowments, still manifests the frailties of a fallen being; and that it always behoves us, therefore, with Christian discrimination, to distinguish between grace and nature, to give to God his own glory, and to refer to men their own infirmities.

But I must return from this digression. During the early months of the year 1803, the pain in Mr. Hall's back increased, both in intenseness and continuity, depriving him almost always of refreshing sleep, and depressing his spirits to an unusual degree. On one of his visits to Kettering, and its neighbourhood, he consulted Dr. Kerr of Northampton, who recommended him to reside a few miles from Cambridge, and to have recourse to horse exercise. In consequence of this advice, he took a house at Shelford, a village about five miles from Cambridge; and the frequent and short journeys on horseback which thus became necessary for a season, seemed beneficial. Yet, the advantage was not of long continuance. He missed his delightful evenings spent in the society of the intelligent classes of the congregation (of whom there was a much higher proportion than in most congregations,) and he missed still more, the simple, heart-refreshing remarks of the poor of his flock, whose pious converse had always been peculiarly soothing to his mind. It is true, he there enjoyed intercourse with two excellent men,