“But Simon’s wife’s mother lay sick of a fever.” Mark i. 30. From this text, a clergyman—of the old school—had preached just as many, consecutive sermons, as I have already published articles, concerning Peter Faneuil and his family. A day or two after the last discourse, the bell of the village church was tolled, for a funeral; and a long-suffering parishioner, being asked, whose funeral it was, replied, that he had no doubt it was Simon’s wife’s mother’s; for she had been sick of a fever, for nine weeks, to his certain knowledge. Let the reader possess himself in patience—our dealings with the Faneuils cannot last forever.

We have stated, that Peter’s death was sudden, the very death, from which, as a churchman, he had prayed to be delivered. But let us not forget, that no death is sudden, in the sense of the good man’s prayers, however instantaneously the golden bowl may be broken, to him, whose life has been well spent, and who is prepared to die.

In this connection, two interesting questions arise—how Peter Faneuil came to be a churchman—and if his life was a well-spent life, affording him reasonable assurance of admission into Paradise.

The old Huguenots styled themselves “the Reformers,” and embraced the doctrines of Calvin, in full. Oppression commonly teaches even intolerant men the value of toleration. Our Puritan fathers, it is true, who fled from Episcopal, as the Huguenots from Roman Catholic tyranny, profited very little, by the lesson they had learned; and turned upon the Catholics and Quakers, in the spirit of preposterous cruelty. The government of Massachusetts, according to Hazard, received a profitable lesson of moderation, from that of Rhode Island.

The Huguenots soon began to abate somewhat of that exorbitant severity and punctiliousness, in their religion, which, in no slight degree, had brought upon them that persecution, which was gathering, and impending over them, in 1684, a twelvemonth before the revocation of the edict of Nantes; compelling many of them, thus early, to fly from their homes, into other lands. The teachings of James Saurin, the great Huguenot preacher of the refugees, at the Hague, in 1705, and in subsequent years, were of a milder type. He was “a moderate Calvinist.” Such, also, were DaillÉ and Le Mercier, the ministers of the French Church, in Boston.

Peter Faneuil, undoubtedly, worshipped in this church, during a certain period. We have seen the liberal arrangement of his uncle, in 1734, for the support of its minister, and the testator’s provision for its poor. Even then, he evidently anticipated, that it might cease to be; and shaped his testamentary provisions accordingly. Natural causes were in operation; I have referred to them—intermarriage, with our English people—merging the language of the few, in that of the many—juxtaposition—all tending to diminish the necessity for maintaining a separate church.

There was no dissolution of the society, at first, by any formal vote. The attendance became irregular and scanty—the members went elsewhere—Le Mercier, “a worthy character,” says the Rev. Dr. Holmes, ceased to officiate, and the church broke up. For years, there were no services, within the little temple; and, in 1748, it was sold, as I have stated, to the members of another denomination.

It became a question with these Huguenots, the Faneuils, the Boutineaus, the Johonnots, the Oliviers, the Sigourneys, and their associates, where they should worship God. In 1740-41, the preachers, in Boston, were Charles Chauncey, at the Old Brick—at the Old North, Increase Mather, supplying the place of his brother Samuel, who, though ordained, in 1732, preached but one winter, and parted—at the Old South, Joseph Sewall, and Thomas Prince—at the Baptist, in Back Street, Jeremy Condy—at King’s Chapel, Stephen Roe—at Brattle Street, William Cooper—at the Quaker meeting-house, in Leverett’s Lane, whoever was moved by the Spirit—at the New North, John Webb—at the New South, Samuel Checkley—at the New Brick, Ellis Gray—at Christ Church, Timothy Cutler—at Long Lane, Jonny Moorhead—at Hollis Street, Mather Byles—at Trinity, Addington Davenport—at Lynde Street, William Hooper.

Several of the descendants of the Huguenots, not at all deterred, by the resemblance, whatever that might be, between the forms of Episcopalian worship, and those of their religious persecutors, the Roman Catholics, mingled with the Episcopalians. Thus they clung to the common element, the doctrine of the Trinity; and escaped, like Saurin, from the super-sulphuretted vapors of primitive Calvinism.It is not very surprising, that the Faneuils should have settled down, upon the new and fashionable temple—Trinity had been erected but a few years before; and the new rector was Peter’s brother-in-law, Mr. Addington Davenport.

Peter therefore became, pro tanto, an Episcopalian—a liberal subscriber to the Charitable, Episcopal fund, and to the fund for the rebuilding of King’s Chapel; and identified himself with the Episcopal interest.

The religious character of Peter Faneuil, and the present whereabouts of this public benefactor, will be determined, by different individuals, according to the respective indications of their spiritual thermometers.

I have already ventured an opinion, that the mantle of charity, which covereth a multitude of sins, should be extended, for Peter’s behoof, over that little affair with Peter Baynton, touching the duties, on those four hogsheads of brandy. But there is another matter, over which, I am aware, that some very worthy people will doubt, if the mantle of charity, can be stretched, without serious danger of lesion—I refer to the importation, about the same time with the prayer books, of that enormous quantity—six gross—of “the very best King Henry’s cards.” I have often marvelled, how the name of the Defender of the Faith ever came to be connected, with such pestilent things.

I am well aware, how closely, in the opinions of some learned divines, cards are associated with the idea of eternal damnation. If it be so; and a single pack is enough to send the proprietor to the bottomless pit, it is truly grievous to reflect how much deeper Peter, our great public benefactor, has gone, with the oppressive weight of six gross of the very best, upon his soul. Now-a-days, there seem to be very few, the Romanists excepted, who believe in purgatory; and it is pretty generally agreed, that all, who attempt the bridge of Al Sirat, will surely arrive, either at Paradise, or Pandemonium.

How delightful it would be, to have the opinion of good old AndrÉ Le Mercier, in a case like this. Though Peter no longer waited upon Le Mercier’s ministrations; but, for several years, before the dissolution of the French Church, had settled down, under brother Addington Davenport, first, as the assistant at King’s Chapel, and, afterwards, as the Rector of Trinity; yet Le Mercier could not forget the nephew of his benefactor, Andrew Faneuil. He was, doubtless, at Peter’s funeral, who died one and twenty years, before the holy man was summoned to his account, in 1764. Yes, he was there.

I have heard of a man, who accounted, for the dryness of his eyes, when all around him wept, at a pathetic discourse, on the ground, that he belonged to another parish. I have known Christian ministers—very—not many, thank heaven—who were influenced, to such a degree, by that spirit, which may be supposed to govern the proprietors of opposition omnibuses, as to consider the chord of human sympathy cut, through and through, and forever, between themselves, and a parishioner, who, for any cause, elected to receive his spiritual treasures out of some other earthen vessel, albeit of the very same denomination of crockery ware.

Poverty, and disease, and death, and misery, in every type, might stalk in, and upon, and over that homestead, and hearth, where these Christian ministers had been warmed, and refreshed, and fostered—but it was no longer a concern of theirs. No visit of condolence—no kind inquiry—not one, cheap word of consolation had they, for such, as had ceased to receive their ideas of damnation from them—enough—these individuals had sold their pews—“crimen difficile expiandum”—they belonged to another parish!

AndrÉ Le Mercier, was not a man of this description. He was not a holy huckster of spiritual things, having not one crumb of comfort, for any, but his regular customers. AndrÉ was a man, whose neighbor’s ubiquity was a proverb.

But what he would say, about these six gross of King Henry’s cards, I am by no means, certain. He was a man of a tolerant spirit; but on certain points, the most tolerant are, occasionally, found to be imbued, with unalterable prejudices. On page 85, of his Church History of Geneva, which I have read with pleasure, he quotes approvingly, the maxim of “a doctor of the church.” “In necessariis rebus sit unitas, in dubiis libertas, in omnibus charitas.” This breathes the spirit of toleration:—what are dubia, what necessaria are not quite so readily settled, however.

On page 100, I find a passage, not quite so favorable for Peter, in this matter of the six gross. Referring to Calvin’s return to Geneva, in 1536, after his banishment, Le Mercier says—“And then Balls and Dances and profane songs were forbidden, by the magistrates. And that form of Discipline remains entire, to the present Time, notwithstanding the repeated Attempts, that have been made by wicked People to overset it. King Henry’s cards, I fear, even of the very best quality, would, undoubtedly, fall into this category, of things Calvinized on earth, in the opinion of AndrÉ Le Mercier.”

The meaning of the words, “profane songs,” may not be universally intelligible. It undoubtedly meant, as used by the Council, all songs not sacred. Calvin, undoubtedly, adopted the commendation of Scripture, to such, as were merry, to sing psalms. It appears, however, that certain persons entertained conservative notions, in those early days; even beyond the dictum of holy writ; for, on page 101, Le Mercier states, that Sebastian Castalio, a preacher, and professor, in the College of Geneva, “condemned Solomon’s Songs, as being profane and immodest;” the very charge, as the reader is aware, which has been so often urged, against the songs of Tom Moore. Moore, at last, betook himself to sacred melodies. Solomon, had his life been spared, would, probably, have done the same thing, to the entire satisfaction of Sebastian Castalio.

I see wisdom, and mercy, and truth, in a part of the maxim, quoted by AndrÉ Le Mercier—in dubiis libertas. I have long suspected there were some angels in Heaven, who were damned by Calvin, on earth. I verily believe, that Peter Faneuil is in Paradise.