The Infidel: A Story of the Great Revival — Reading Companion

The Trade of Letters and the Infidel Mind

The opening chapter introduces William Thornton as a hack who writes for money, not inspiration. He “adjusted the supply to the demand,” producing verse, history, philosophy, and even sermons—despite being an “unfrocked priest” and “audacious infidel.” This portrait of a writer who believes in nothing beyond the material world sets up the “infidel” of the title. The daughter works alongside him, but her views remain unclear in the excerpts. The narrative emphasizes the mechanical nature of their labor: “so many sides of letter-paper to produce so many pounds.” This economic framing of literary work grounds the story in concrete, unromantic detail.

Wesley’s Itinerant Ministry and Stobart’s Devotion

The middle excerpts follow Stobart, a Methodist deacon, traveling with John Wesley through rough country, preaching to “hundreds of thousands.” The physical hardships are noted—rough meals, hard beds, roadside hovels—but the focus is on Stobart’s spiritual zeal. He writes letters to Lady Kilrush, “aflame with the ardent desire to save that one most precious soul.” His language is urgent and emotional: he has “wrestled with the infidel spirit as Jacob wrestled with the angel.” The excerpts also reveal his domestic life: a placid wife who cares about household details like “cream-jug of some special ware” and a “damask table-cloth.” This juxtaposition of high religious passion and mundane marital affection gives Stobart a layered humanity.

Antonia’s Resistance and the Infidel’s Voice

Lady Kilrush, addressed as Antonia, responds to Stobart’s fervent letters with a measured, skeptical reply. She asks, “can you not be content with so many victories … and leave one solitary sinner to work out her own destiny?” Her words reveal a mind that cannot “realize your kingdom of the saints” and is appalled by the universe’s vastness. She longs to see her deceased husband in a “new and better life,” but this hope is expressed as a conditional wish, not a conviction. Antonia’s voice is rational, poignant, and resistant to conversion. The excerpts do not reveal her ultimate fate, but her intellectual independence marks her as a counterpoint to Stobart’s evangelical certainty.

Structure and Shifts in Narrative Focus

The excerpts move from the cramped London garret of the Thorntons to the open roads of Wesley’s revival, then to the private correspondence between Stobart and Antonia. This structural shift mirrors the novel’s thematic tension between worldly compromise and spiritual aspiration. Braddon uses letters to convey interior conflict, allowing Antonia’s doubts to be expressed directly. The narrative does not privilege one perspective; the hack writer, the devoted preacher, and the skeptical lady each receive sympathetic attention. Readers should note how these early sections establish a pattern of contrast—between commerce and faith, domesticity and mission, certainty and doubt—that likely shapes the rest of the story.

The Role of John Wesley as a Character

John Wesley appears in the excerpts primarily through Stobart’s reports and the narrator’s brief mentions. He is a figure of authority and suffering, having endured a “virago” wife who opened his letters and insulted his friends. This detail humanizes the religious leader, suggesting that even the founder of Methodism faced domestic turmoil. Stobart compares his own placid marriage favorably to Wesley’s, implying that spiritual leadership does not guarantee personal happiness. Wesley’s presence looms over the narrative, but the excerpts keep him at a distance, focusing instead on how his followers interpret and apply his teachings.

The excerpts establish a novel of contrasts: between the hack writer’s materialism and the preacher’s spiritual fervor, between domestic contentment and missionary zeal. Braddon’s prose is precise and unsentimental, even when describing religious ecstasy. Readers should attend to the letters as a key device for revealing character and conflict. The infidel of the title may not be a single person but a stance—a refusal to accept easy answers, whether from the marketplace or the pulpit.

The rain kept time with Stobart’s restless journey, that old ache between fervent faith and worldly trade. Later, drying off, I found myself thinking how a single thread of duty can unravel a whole life. That quiet unease led me, almost without deciding, to The Prisoner of the Mill; or, Captain Hayward's "Body Guard" — Themes and Context, where captivity wears a gentler, stranger face.