THE IMPERIAL MAGAZINE. APRIL, 1833. MEMOIR OF THE LATE REV. J. D. PEARSON. (With a Portrait.) THE ostentatious and obtrusive, though vain and empty, too often attract the attention, and excite the applause, of the world; while the modest and retiring, though truly valuable portion of mankind, pursuing "the noiseless tenor of their way," are overlooked and forgotten. Of this latter description was the subject of the present sketch; who though he never courted the admiration of men, wore away his life for the benefit of his fellow-creatures, and the spread of the gospel. MR. PEARSON was born in London, Jan. 18, 1788, his father being one of the most respectable tradesmen in that city. Although in his early youth he was not favoured by those religious advantages which are now more generally enjoyed, his conduct displayed a tenderness of conscience, and a susceptibility of serious impressions, eminently salutary in their influence. In 1802, having completed his education, he was called to enter upon the business of a commercial life. This, however, was a sphere by no means congenial with the temperament of his mind, and he gladly devoted the hours of leisure which it afforded, to the prosecution of reading and study the great object of his pursuit being happiness. With this, in his estimation, religion appeared to be closely and necessarily connected; and he began to inquire into its character, and to explore its revelations with an earnestness and conscious interest to which he had been previously a stranger. Having no experienced Christian friend to counsel and direct him, the light of divine truth rose but gradually on his anxious spirit, and was oftentimes obscured by remaining prejudice and uncertainty, until at length its powerful influence dispersed every remaining mist, and he was enabled, in the confidence of a holy faith, to lay hold upon the hope set before him in the gospel. the His profession of the faith of Christ was attended by various trials. In year 1811 especially, it was put to a severe test. He was compelled, on account of his religious principles, to quit the paternal roof, and to relinquish those prospects which were immediately opening before him; yet he esteemed the reproach of Christ better and more precious than these. From this time, he considered himself as the child of Providence, and abundantly realized the efficiency of its gracious protection, being speedily and happily relieved from anxiety as to his temporal welfare. In the year 1812, he became a member of the Church meeting in Silver Street. In this new association, the consistency of his deportment, and the unaffected humility of his spirit, recommended him to all; whilst the superior texture of his mind, and the variety of his mental endowments, were justly appreciated by those who were favoured more intimately with his friendship. It was here, too, that his peculiar talent in communicating instruction to the young was first elicited; and abundant testimony has 2D. SERIES, No. 28.-VOL. III. U 172.-VOL. XV. been borne to the zeal and fidelity, accompanied by much and lasting good, with which he laboured. In Feb. 1816, he was invited to become a missionary; on the 25th of March was accepted; and on the 29th of August was publicly set apart to the work. He was appointed to assist in the superintendence of the numerous schools, under the patronage of Government, in Chinsurah, and other places in the neighbourhood of Calcutta, and left England on the 30th. On the decease of Mr. May, the superintendent, the whole charge of the schools devolved upon him, and, at the unanimous request of the inhabitants, together with the Dutch governor, with whom he was on intimate terms, he undertook the duties of the settlement church. The zeal and judgment he evinced in superintending the schools, elicited from the Marquis of Hastings "his entire approbation." In this place he laboured with much assiduity and usefulness, and contributed in a very eminent degree to the success of the mission. Describing his mode of instructing the children, he writes,— "I sit amongst them, hear them read and repeat their catechisms, and ask them questions, whilst many of their parents and others are standing without, looking on. Now, to witness the scene in this heathen land, this land of darkness and of death, how glorious, how delightful! but to be a partaker, to be actively at work in it, calls forth many, many tears of gratitude and joy. O my God! if it be thy blessed will, thus, thus engaged may death find me!" ** * "I am continually employed from morning to night in my blessed work: what can I wish for more? What, but for a heart willing to expend the last drop of its blood, as a feeble, wretched return to that Saviour, who is the source and author of all that I hope for or enjoy." On account of the bad state of his health, he came to England in April, 1824, and returned to India in June, 1826, with his health greatly improved, to resume his interesting duties, and there remained until death put a period to his labours on the 8th of November, 1831. By his death, the Hindoos in Chinsurah, and the neighbourhood, were deprived of their only instructor, and the affairs of the mission assumed a melancholy aspect; he being the only person on the station competent to teach in their own tongue. Some of the best elementary works in the Bengalee language are from the pen of Mr. Pearson. To him the Calcutta Tract Society owes the following publications:-1. Twelve Discourses on important Passages of Scripture. 2. The History of Joseph. 3. A Manual of Devotion. 4. The First Catechism. 5. The Mother and Daughter. 6. The Parables and Miracles of Christ, with Catechetical Remarks. Were any general outline of Mr. Pearson's character attempted, it might be noticed, that, in addition to those mild and amiable qualities by which his demeanour was habitually distinguished, he possessed a refined and cultivated taste. The exercise of the pencil formed his favourite recreation, and, from the various specimens furnished, it may be fairly assumed, that had he followed the bent of his natural genius, he might, as an artist, have risen far above mediocrity. Possessing, from his earliest youth, a thoughtful and melancholy turn of mind, he shrank from unnecessary intercourse with the world, and loved best of all those employments and pursuits which were compatible with solitude and seclusion. He manifested, however, a spirit of firm endurance and untiring diligence, to the exercise of which his circumstances continually gave abundant scope, and which enabled him to overcome the most formidable obstacles, and to triumph over the most disheartening difficulties in prosecuting his labours as a Missionary among heathens. THOUGHTS ON THE EFFICACY OF PUN. poignant as it is unjust, and as unjust as it is frequent. Were the reproaches of the world confined merely to the past, they ISHMENT, AND THE CONSEQUENCES OF ACQUITTAL, PARDON, ETC., AS EXHI BITED IN THE DAILY OCCURRENCES might, if made in a right spirit, be the OF LIFE. Suggested by a Desire for the Moral and Religious Improvement of Society. "And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.". 1 Cor. xiii. 3. (Concluded from page 112.) 66 WERE it my intention to dwell upon the merits or demerits of the system on which the criminal laws of this country are administered, I might here, with much propriety, enter into a dissertation on the frequent and sometimes irreconcileable differences between the letter and the spirit of the law; between justice, as proclaimed in the books of the Acts of Parliament, and justice as taught in the books of the Acts of the Apostles. I might, moreover, animadvert upon the manner, in which, owing to the "niceties" of our laws, defences are now-a-days got up." I might, in short, compare our courts of justice rather to a scene of war, waged with words and decided by skill only, than to the lists of a tournament, where a cause is seen to stand or fall by its own merits;-but, as I have already said, my business is not with the law, but with its subjects. I will presume the accused to have been acquitted. He leaves the court an innocent, an improved, and yet a ruined man! Innocent we are bound to believe him, for his judges, as such, have pronounced him : (and we must either abolish trials altogether, or admit their correctness.) Improved in heart and soul we cannot but find him, if such really be the case, and yet we leave him a ruined man! His doom is sealed; he returns into the world a better man than perhaps at any former period of his life, alive even to the smallest kindness, susceptible of being moulded into any good form. What is his fate? His former acquaintances, his friends, the beings even with whom he is connected by nature's closest ties, avoid and reject him. His case henceforth may be compared to that of a shipwrecked man, attempting to gain the shore, which is lined by his townsfolk, his friends and his kindred; he struggles with the angry waves, approaches the land, but the very persons, to whom he looks for aid, thrust him back into the destructive element, and, to add to his torments, upbraid him at each renewed and constantly repulsed attempt, with his incapability to effect a landing. This upbraiding, let it be observed, is as means of much good. A man being told, that because of his education he ought to have known better, cannot but admit the justice of that remark,* and the very appeal to his education will rouse those feelings, which that education has been the means of softening and of cultivating. He will endeavour, in a tenfold degree, to call up, as it were, every particle of his better nature into action; he will make it the constant object of his pride, and the stedfast desire of his heart, to shew to the world his sense, both of the errors into which he had fallen, and of the great responsibility, which his re-admission into society imposes upon him. But all his endeavours become neutralised by perpetual repulse; we may endure constant flattery, but constant scorn human nature cannot bear. It sours the temper, unhinges the mind, and, unless the heart be indeed firmly fixed, it may lead to despair, the ruin of the soul as well as the body; for, however true it is, that if our first object be "to seek the kingdom of God and his righteousness, all other things shall be added unto us, it is nevertheless to be borne in mind, that the fulfilment of this gracious promise does not rest upon a miracle, such as the providing an existence for one isolated being, apart from all his fellow-creatures, but it was held out to men moving together socially and in good fellow. ship. We live not, it is true, for this world; but whilst the soul inhabits the body, we are taught to ask "those things which are requisite as well for the body as the soul;" but how can we obtain what we ask, in a world, where all depend upon one another, unless God pleases to turn the hearts of our enemies and persecutors? Strong, then, It is worthy of notice, that we never say, you ought to have felt better," seldom, "you ought to have acted better," but it is almost invariably, "you ought to have known better;" hence, we disown a man rather for his want of knowledge (calculation) than of principle. I can give a practical illustration of this, the truth and force of which must strike every body. A man, through losses, becomes involved; in order to gain time, and thus to recover his stability, he utters a fictitious acceptance. He is detected, and, to save his life, his family or friends are obliged to "pay to the uttermost penny." What does the world say to this man when it discards him? "You ought to have known (calculated) better, you ought to have had yourself made a bankrupt, or to have taken the benefit of the act;" in other words, 66 you ought to have cheated your creditors at once, instead of attempting to remain honest; then, indeed, would you have remained an honourable man, and we could have continued to associate with you." must be the faith of that man in Providence, who, although not one friend be left to him on earth, although in every face he recognizes an enemy and a persecutor, still suffers not despair to come over him. I have endeavoured to shew, to what fearful consequences the exercise of worldly prejudices may lead; but I must still call attention to some minor, though by no means unimportant, points. There is unquestionably in the ways of the world, as they are at present, great injustice manifested towards those who, as the legal phrase is, have been acquitted. This will be found to be the case, if we compare their lot with the fate of those who have been "found guilty." These, it is true, are sent away from their country, but then their country can scorn then no longer. They are kept at labour, but then that is the very thing they want; and, in the end, if their conduct has been satisfactory, they are, after a few years of nominal dependence, set free; and, being in a country where talents, labour, and industry are sure to find employment, their future success in life depends only upon themselves. Thus, conviction is better than acquittal, the "guilty" live, whilst the "not guilty" starve! 66 Again, it must be admitted, that the force of example is in the last degree injurious to the prospects of those who labour under the imputation or suspicion of former guilt were it not for this, we should probably find much less determination to exclude than we actually do. Surely," says one, "there must be something very bad about the man, because every body shuns him." "Oh!" exclaims another, were I to notice him, my friends would no longer notice me." Nay, so strong is the force of habit and example, that even a religious and charitable mind will often find it difficult to divest itself of the leaven of pride, and to differ from the adopted views of the many. 66 and yet retain their "respectability." Nay, to such a pass have things come, that many of these fashionable vices are looked upon in high life, as giving a peculiar claim or zest to the prerogative of the exclusives. Is not this atrocious? Does not this call for a change for the better? We reform our parliaments, but do we reform ourselves? We abolish our rotten boroughs, but do we tear out the root of our own rotten passions? We find fault with the church, but do we find fault with ourselves who go to it? In short-and this brings me back again to my subject-do we behold the beam in our own eye, before we attempt to pull the mote out of our brother's eye? In the foregoing remarks it has been my endeavour to demonstrate, that it becomes us to be charitable, in the spirit, which the Bible points out to us; thus I have taken the part of the friendless and the despised, but it will be seen that I have done so upon religious grounds only, recommending repentance as the only standard, and desire for amendment as the only claim upon record. I have studiously avoided, as much as possible, interfering with the law, for it could not be my object to deprecate its salutary intercession between the offender and the offended, nor to question the wisdom of its tribunal. It is needful for the security of society, that crime should be punished, or suspicious circumstances investigated; but it is injurious to society, that that punishment, when endured, or those investigations, when cleared up, should entail unmerited misery upon the sufferer, or the suspected, that indeed even a verdict of innocence should be of no avail. When the debt is paid or disproved, let the debtor be set free. But we do not set a man free, when we limit the sphere of his actions to himself exclusively; this is building, as it were, a moveable prison wall, composed of human pride, But one of the most glaring features of and cemented by human prejudices around the case remains to be pointed out. It is him, with which, like a snail, he may the system upon which the scales of public move from place to place, but which, like estimation are adjusted by the world. Its the insect, he cannot shake off. rules of etiquette, if I may so express myself, are indeed atrocious. There is scarcely one of the ten commandments, which a "man of the world" may not break with impunity, and yet retain what is called his station in society. Atheism, idolatry, blasphemy, Sabbath-breaking, irreverence towards parents, fashionable murder, adultery, systematic plunder, “ upon principle," perjury, covetousness,-in all, or any of these, many men, ay, and women too, indulge, But, since it appears evident, that upon religious grounds the conduct of the world, on such occasions as have been alluded to, is strictly to be condemned, how comes it, that it should, nevertheless, be persevered in so generally? An answer to this question may without much difficulty be found. Pride, the root of all evil; indifference, the offspring of selfishness; and timidity, the result of moral and physical weakness, furnish that answer. It is pride that revolts at the idea of holding intercourse with persons, who for a time were, like so many wild beasts, to be seen only through the gratings of a prison's ward. It is pride which creates and nourishes the exultation, 66 God, I thank thee, that I am not as other men are, or even as this publican." It is pride which hardens the heart into uncharitableness, and which shuts the eye at those evidences, which repentance and a determination to amendment offer. It is pride which, like its infernal creator, glories in the downfall of man, and which yields a willing assistance to the wicked one in his attempts to retain his victims, and to baffle their efforts at liberation. But as, on the one hand, pride prevents our judgment and corrupts our feelings, indifference, on the other hand, will but too often render us callous to the claims of our less fortunate brethren. Whilst high-soaring pride, in its volcanic eruptions of fiery wrath, scorches and overwhelms the lost wanderer, that dared to approach its crater; chilling indifference benumbs and blasts the hopes of the weary mariner who approaches its arctic regions. What are his affairs to me, says one, I have my own business to attend to? Another, not less selfish, will add to the chill, by professing a regret at his inability; but all agree, that they are not called upon to exert themselves in any other behalf but their own; or, at most, that they are only bound to give to their charity that turn, which their indolence and their selfishness points out to them. Timidity, lastly, stands often in the way of much good, especially when persons have what is called moved in a respectable sphere of life. Not unfrequently do we find friendly dispositions-in remembrance of long acquaintance, of former intimacy towards those whose misfortunes are their faults; but, then, the mere idea of meeting them again face to face, after the hand of shame and misfortune, or even the breath of suspicion only, has been upon them, is repugnant to our feelings: here we are not proud, nor are we indifferent, but we are afraid both of feeling and of giving pain; thus the very sensibility of our nature prevents the goodness of our intentions from being carried into effect; our hearts, like the Christian's sorrow for the dead, are with them, but we desire not to see their faces again on earth. These causes then, though originating from different sources, produce the same effect-that of impeding the progress of improvement in the moral world. Our fallen state renders perfection on earth im possible. Oh! let it be remembered, that even the best of us are sinners in the sight of God. Why then should one member of the same family say to another, "Touch me not, for thou art unclean ?" Are we not hypocrites, when we pray to be delivered from envy, hatred, and all uncharitableness, and yet forbear, in the daily attendance upon our worldly affairs, to realize that prayer? Can we hope that it will please God to forgive our enemies, persecutors, and slanderers, and to turn their hearts, if we ourselves cease not first to be the enemies, persecutors, and slanderers of others? God draws no distinction between one carnal sin and another, but the laws of the world do; and it is a deplorable illustration of the cunning of the human heart, that, generally speaking, those vices, to the committal of which poverty alone is tempted, are visited with the greatest ignominy, total exclusion from society, and consequent ruin of worldly prospects; whilst those, oftentimes more glaring sins, to which rich men are exposed adultery for instance- entail no such punishment upon the offender. I have said above, that it is one of the attributes of pride, that it shuts the eye at those evidences, which repentance and a desire for amendment offer: but this unbelief, if I may venture thus to call it, is by no means confined to the proud only; it is sometimes a cloak, under which the selfish shield themselves, to parry claims which might otherwise, from family, or such like circumstances, be deemed irresistible; but it forms also, and not unfrequently, the ground upon which persons, otherwise religious and benevolent, refuse their aid. This is not as it should be; let us exercise caution, but let us not be wilfully blind. There is another point, which it may not be quite irrelevant to touch upon, both on account of the great importance which is sometimes attack ed to it by one party, and the disregard with which it is treated by another. This is the denial of bad intention-the "malus animus" of the law;-in other words the plea, that, when a crime was committed, it was not the "intention" thereby to injure any body. It is beyond doubt, that if this plea were generally and indiscriminately admitted, we shall soon be told, that there is no such thing as real crime in the world; it is as undoubtedly true that the non-existence of evil intention, or even the commission of a crime with good intention, (and, I believe, that it would not be difficult to prove that this is possible,) can, on no account, form an excuse in favour of the offender: but let us also bear in mind, that, nevertheless, the |