mill. Sir Samuel Armitage, who filled the office of high-sheriff, and

Sir John Kaye a magistrate, read the proclamation, and endeavoured to disperse them; but the mob threw stones; and, proceeding to another mill in the parish of Thornhill, captured all the meal and corn, partly pulled down the building, and stole all the miller’s beef and bacon. Things were becoming desperate; and the two gentlemen, already named, desired the rioters to assemble at the house of Sir John Kaye, on Monday, April 28th, where the neighbouring magistrates would listen to their complaints. About a thousand came, beating drums, and carrying colours. Nothing good resulted. The mob retired, shouting; they neither cared for the magistrates nor the high-sheriff. They hurried to three more mills, and decamped with all the edibles the mills contained. They next proceeded to Criggleston, and broke into the barn of Joseph Pollard, and carried away a quantity of flour. Pollard fired at them; and captured several prisoners. On Tuesday, the 29th, Pollard took his captives to Wakefield, to have them tried. The rioters assembled to release their friends; and threatened to pull down Pollard’s house; to “hang himself; and to skin him like a cat.” Captain Burton,[95] however, boldly advanced to meet them; “knocked down three or four of them with his stick; took six or seven prisoners;” and marched them off to the house of correction. On the same day, a detachment of soldiers were brought from York; and, though great murmurings continued; outward quiet was restored.[96]

Strangely enough, Ingham was accused as the chief promoter of this disgraceful tumult. In the _Weekly Miscellany_ for June 8, 1740, the following anonymous communication, from “Yorkshire,” was inserted. It was addressed to Mr. Hooker, the editor.

“You have no doubt seen an account, in the public prints, of the riot we had in this county. It took place at Dewsbury, where Mr. Ingham has propagated Methodism. Some will have him to be the author of this insurrection, by preaching up, as he certainly did, a _community of goods_, as was practised by the _Primitive Christians_. How much he may have contributed towards raising the mob, I will not pretend to say; but what I am going to tell you of this clergyman, is matter of fact. I can prove it, and you may make what use of it you think proper. A gentleman of Leeds, who was one of Mr. Ingham’s followers, asked him what difference there was between the Church of England and his way of worship? To which Mr. Ingham replied, ‘The Church of England is the scarlet whore, prophesied of in the Revelation; and there will be no true Christianity as long as that Church subsists.’

“Your humble Servant.”[97]

In the then excited state of the country, and especially of Yorkshire, it would have been unwise for Ingham to have allowed such a publication to pass in silence. Hence, he waited upon Hooker, the editor of the _Weekly Miscellany_, who, says he, “received me in a genteel manner, and gave me proof that the letter of June 8th was from Yorkshire.” This is something to Mr. Hooker’s credit, especially when it is borne in mind that, at that period, he was one of Methodism’s bitterest opponents. The result of the interview was, Ingham wrote, and Hooker published the following lengthy letter:—

“LONDON, _June 14, 1740_.

“MR. HOOKER,—In your paper of June 8, you inserted a letter from Yorkshire concerning me. Had I followed my own inclination, I should have taken no more notice of this than of another falsity that was printed some time ago in the _News_, that the woollen manufacture in Yorkshire was likely to be ruined, implying, by me; and of many more, spread up and down, by common report, which often contradict one another. But the advice of friends has prevailed with me to write this, in answer to what the author of that letter charges me with.

“The author of the letter charges me with two things: directly and indirectly:—

“As to the riot that was lately in Yorkshire, he does not say directly that I was the cause of it; but he insinuates something like it, as being the consequence of my doctrine. But if this person was not sure that I was the cause of this insurrection, it is very unbecoming, either of a Christian or a gentleman, to hint at such a thing. When the riot happened, I was absent from Dewsbury parish, at the time and several days after. I neither knew nor heard anything of it till it was over. As soon as I heard of it, I spoke against it as a very wicked thing, and of dangerous consequence. I inquired particularly whether any persons that frequented the societies were in it. I heard of three. But one of them had been turned out some weeks before for misbehaviour. The other two, I ordered to be turned out directly, and publicly disowned; though, I believe, they, as many more, were drawn to run among the rabble, through weakness and curiosity. The gentleman says, some will have me to be the author of the insurrection. It is true, _they say so_. And, indeed, everything that comes amiss is laid to my charge. _They said_ I was the occasion of the wet season last summer; of the long frost in winter; of the present war; and, if it blows a storm, some or other _say_ I am the cause of it. But this is the talk of the vulgar; men of sense know better. Does not every one know that, _they say_, a common report is generally false?

“But, further, to the _second_ charge. Supposing I had preached up a community of goods, as this gentleman positively asserts (which I never did), would it thence follow, that people have a liberty to plunder; that they may take away their neighbour’s goods by force? If the one was a necessary consequence of the other, then the apostles and first Christians were much to blame in what they did. If all were real Christians, yet it would not be necessary to have a community of goods. None were obliged to it in the apostles’ days. They entered into it willingly. But in the present state of things, it would be both absurd and impracticable to attempt such a thing. What might make some people think that I maintained this doctrine, perhaps, was this. I once preached a charity sermon at Leeds, I think, from these words: ‘And the multitude of them that believed were of one heart and soul; neither said any of them that ought of the things which he possessed were his own; but they had all things common.’ But I nowhere asserted therein, that we were now obliged to do as they then did. I only exhorted my hearers to imitate the good examples of the primitive Christians, and to contribute generously to the wants of their poor brethren, according to their ability. Now, if this gentleman’s mistake arose from this sermon, if he thinks it worth his while to come over to Osset, after my return into Yorkshire,—I promise to let him see the sermon, as I preached it (for it is not altered), that he may be fully satisfied; for I neither _did_, nor _do_ preach up a community of goods.

“The _third_ thing which the author of the letter lays to my charge, and which he says is matter of fact, and which he can prove, is this: A gentleman of Leeds, who was one of my followers, asked what difference there was between the Church of England and my way of worship? To which, he says, I replied, ‘The Church of England is the scarlet whore, prophesied of in the Revelation; and there will be no true Christianity as long as that Church subsists.’ Now, supposing any gentleman should have asked me such a question (which I do not remember), do these words look like a pertinent answer to such a question? I never pretended to set up a new way of worship. I still live in the communion of the Church of England. My neighbours can testify that I go to church constantly, and receive the sacrament. But, further, I am sure that I never _did_, nor _could_ say these words; for _they are contrary to my settled judgment_. I may have said words like these, yet quite different in their meaning.

“It has been a very common thing for people to misrepresent my sense, and to run away with half a sentence. When I have been preaching the doctrine of universal redemption, and asserting that God made no man purposely to be damned, but that He would have all to be saved, some have reported that I maintained, nobody would be damned. When I have been declaring the riches of God’s love and mercy, in receiving the greatest sinners, coming to Him through Christ, some have said that I gave people liberty to live as they list. And, again, when I have been speaking of that purity of heart and holiness of life which the gospel requires, some have said (and it is the general outcry), according to my doctrine, nobody can be saved. I scarce ever preach a sermon but somebody or other misrepresents it. But, I am afraid, I have deviated too much in mentioning these things.

“To return then. I have said that Babylon and the whore, mentioned in the Revelation, relate to more Churches than one; and that the Church of England is concerned therein as well as other Churches; but I never said that she was _the scarlet whore_. I believe, indeed, that, by Babylon and the whore, the Church of Rome is chiefly and principally meant; but, yet, the Scripture saith, she sitteth upon many waters; _i.e._, people and multitudes, and nations and tongues, all sects and parties (Rev. xvii. 15). For Babylon signifies confusion; and by the scarlet whore is meant corruption, or departing from the truth either in principle or practice (Hos. i. 2; ii. 5). Babylon, therefore, or the whore is in, and may be applied to, every Church and person, where there is not a perfect self-denial and entire resignation to God. And are there not multitudes of persons in every Church in Christendom, and consequently in the Church of England, who greatly depart from the truth as it is in Jesus?

“As to the latter part of this accusation,—‘There will be no true Christianity as long as that Church exists,’—I absolutely deny that I could say so; because I believe there always was, always will be, and now is, a true Church of Christ, against which the gates of hell cannot prevail. I believe, likewise, that many of the Church of England, and some out of every sect and party, are members of this true Church of Christ. I have, indeed, often said that there is a glorious state of the Church to come, when the partition wall of bigotry, sect, religion, and party zeal will be broken down; and the Jews will be called; and the fulness of the Gentiles shall come in; and the whole earth shall be filled with the knowledge of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea. I do not pretend to know when this time will be; but whenever it commences there will be another face of things in Christendom. The outward pomp and grandeur of the Church will be diminished, and the inward beauty will appear the brighter. The spirit of primitive Christianity will be revived; and, probably, the last state of the Church will be more glorious than the first. It will be happy for them who live in those days; but yet, in the meantime, I believe and hope many will be saved out of all Churches or societies of Christians, and meet together in that blessed place, where there will be no difference or disputing, but all will be love and joy and peace.

“I am, sir, your humble Servant,

“B. INGHAM.”[98]

Mr. Hooker, the editor, inserted Ingham’s letter; but he did so with reluctance. He snarled even while pretending to be just and generous. Hence he appended an ill-tempered article of his own, from which the following is an extract. Having told his readers, that, “at Mr. Ingham’s request, he had published his letter,” he proceeds,—

“If I recollect the many instances of the great want of _simplicity_, _sincerity_, and regard to _truth_, which some other _teachers_ among the Methodists have discovered, I should naturally _suspect_ that Mr. Ingham may not have given a fair account of his case. Or, if I judge of his probity in _this_ instance by his conduct in _others_, the presumption of insincerity must lie against him. Nay, I think, there are some grounds of suspicion in his _defence_. But what I insist upon is this,—that his _public conduct is insincere and dishonest_. While he owns that he communicates with the Church of England, and by communicating with her, he _subjects_ himself to her _authority_, he sets up separate meetings in _opposition to it_, in _defiance_ of it, nay, in _defiance_ of _all_ authority, both _civil and ecclesiastical_. By this _illegal_, _disobedient_ behaviour to the laws of that _Church_ and of that _civil society_, of which he is a member, he has given just and great scandal to all good _Christians_. In cases of _public scandal_, the laws of _Christianity_ and of _common charity_ require the person who gives it to ask _public pardon_, to _alter his public conduct_, or _publicly to vindicate it_.”

This was hard measure. Poor Ingham had been most unjustly accused of being the author of the Yorkshire riot, and had defended himself; and now the editor of the _Weekly Miscellany_ charges him with insincerity, dishonesty, and causing public scandal; and officiously prescribes that he should ask public pardon. Hooker was too much of a partisan to discharge his editorial duties with even-handed justice. Ingham made no reply to the Editor’s unwarrantable attack; but the latter printed two other letters, in which the same hostility was rampant. The first was dated, “Wakefield, July 16, 1740,” and fills an entire folio page, and nearly one third of another. In reply to Ingham’s statement, that he was not in the parish of Dewsbury when the riot commenced, nor for several days afterwards, the anonymous letter-writer calls this “an equivocating way of talking,” for three men of veracity had declared that he was all the while at Osset, a township in the parish. Can this be true? We cannot but disbelieve it. Ingham was incapable of such equivocation. The following extracts also are too manifestly malignant to be altogether truthful:—

“There were more of Mr. Ingham’s followers concerned in the riot than he would have the world to believe. For one fellow, who had lived with him several months under the same roof, was one of the ring-leaders of the rioters,—a very busy man in breaking the miller’s utensils, and a kind of helper of those to wheat flour who had no right to it. This godly man fled from justice, and has not since been heard of. Another of Mr. Ingham’s admirers at Osset very carefully helped himself at the mill; and he also absconded, till, as he thought, the danger was over, and now he appears again. A third of the Methodists concerned in this riot, was taken up by some of his Majesty’s justices of the peace, and was sent to York among other criminals, where he awaits his trial at the next assizes. If Mr. Ingham had inquired as particularly as he pretends, he would have ascertained that when these outrageous men gathered from several towns to seize upon Mr. Pollard’s corn at Crigglestone, there were not only two, but two hundred, perhaps many more, of his followers mixed with others in the same wicked design.

“This gentleman denies that he ever preached up a community of goods; and yet one of his former hearers at Osset, who is now returned to the Church, assured me that Mr. Ingham had often done that, and had told his auditors, ‘That none of them need to labour, for God would provide for them; and that they must throw themselves upon Jesus Christ, their whole life being spent in religious exercises being no more than sufficient to save their souls; for they who were rich ought to supply the wants of the poor.’ ‘So,’ says he, ‘had I followed Mr. Ingham’s advice, I should not have been worth a groat.’ And even Mr. Ingham’s brother declared, ‘If I mind our Ben, he will preach me out of all I have.’ This information I had from Mr. Glover, of Osset. I am far from thinking Mr. Ingham persuaded any to rise in this tumultuous manner, and charitably hope he did not approve of the riot; yet, when all circumstances are laid together, it is a great presumption that his preaching up a community of goods to men of low condition, was an encouragement to them in this dear season to make bold with more than their own.”

“As to the charge about ‘the scarlet whore,’ the writer acknowledges that when the gentleman in Leeds, who had given the information, was cross-examined, ‘he quibbled, gave ambiguous answers, and, in short, could be fixed to nothing.’”

In reference to Mr. Ingham’s “new way of worship,” all that the correspondent of the _Weekly Miscellany_ can allege, is the following:—

“Mr. Ingham has preached in a croft at Osset to a confused number of people, drawn together from several parishes, which more resembled a bear-baiting than an orderly congregation for the worship of God. When Mr. Rogers,[99] one of his fellow-itinerants, came into these parts, he accompanied him to Westgate-Moor, adjoining to Wakefield, and stood by him, while the other harangued the mob from a stool or table. Mr. Rogers, in preaching from ‘Beware of dogs,’ advised his hearers to beware of the ministers of the present age; for all the ministers now-a-days preach false doctrine to tickle their carnal ears, that they may fill their coffers with money, and preach their souls to the devil. Another of Mr. Ingham’s associates, Mr. Delamotte, who is still a laic, being asked by a clergyman why he did not proceed regularly for a degree, and then for orders, answered, ‘If you mean episcopal ordination, I assure you I think the gospel of Jesus Christ has nothing to do with it.’ Rogers also told the same clergyman, that he was ‘as much inspired as St. Paul was, except the working of miracles; and that he could not commit actual sin.’ Besides all this, Mr. Ingham keeps his meetings, unauthorized by law, at Dewsbury, Osset, Mirfield, and other places, particularly at Horbury, in this parish, where he prays, sings, expounds, preaches, and visits the sick, without the consent or knowledge of the minister who resides there, though he is always ready to discharge his duty, and is much superior to Mr. Ingham in every respect for the discharge of it. As to the services he uses, it is a medley of his own; for though he makes use of the Common Prayer, he disguises and spoils it by his own additions. Much more might be said about his disorderly meetings, particularly locking himself up with a select number of his hearers till midnight, or after.”

The writer thus concludes:—

“Let this intruder, who pretends to act as a minister of the Established Church, say by what Canon in any General Council, by what Constitution in any National Church, he takes upon himself to wander from place to place, sometimes preaching in the fields, and sometimes creeping into private houses, to the great disturbance and disquiet of the lawfully appointed ministers, and raising schisms and distractions in a Church established upon primitive antiquity.”[100]

The other letter was not dissimilar to the one already quoted. It was dated, “Dewsbury, August 18, 1740,” and signed “A Layman;” and was published in the _Weekly Miscellany_, on August 30th. This charitably alarmed “Layman” brands the Methodists as “hot-headed enthusiasts;” speaks of Ingham and Delamotte as “those high pretenders to purity and holiness;” and stigmatises the latter as an “enthusiastic babbler,” pouring out “effusions of nonsense.” The following is the concluding paragraph:—

“Whatever sorry evasions Mr. Ingham may make to extenuate his wickedness in being instrumental to the riot at Dewsbury; yet, it is certain that he is highly culpable, and was, if not at the bottom, the sole cause of it. The principles he instils into his adherents are such as, when known, no better consequences could be expected than those that have followed: and what further mischief may ensue, if he be not restrained, is shocking to consider:—no less than the introducing of Popery, or, at least, some measures of his own destructive to the tranquillity and happiness of the community.”

In the same month in which this layman’s letter was published, Mr. Bowman, the reverend vicar of Dewsbury, finished his furious pamphlet on “The Imposture of Methodism Displayed;” and, of course, was too zealously honest to be silent respecting the riot. Mr. Hooker’s correspondents were meekness itself compared with this pamphleteering pugilist. He declares, he “never met with so much downright falsehood, such trifling evasions, and matter so foreign to the purpose” as he had met with in Ingham’s letter in the _Weekly Miscellany_. He asserts, that, during the riot, Ingham “had a constant communication with several of the inhabitants, by means of his nocturnal assemblies; and, that, he had rashly given out, some little time before the riot happened, that, _in a few hours’ warning, he could have ten thousand men ready for any emergency_.” Mr. Bowman writes:—

“Ingham’s conduct was, at that time, so much taken notice of and suspected, that the magistrates were almost determined to apprehend him, as a disturber and incendiary; and, I believe, were only deterred from it, in consideration of what might happen from the fierceness and fury of his adherents. Were it requisite, I could name several of his great favourites and abettors, who had no small share in these disturbances. I myself heard two of his principal associates, three days before the affair happened, insinuate that such a thing was shortly to be expected, and that the people might be justified in what they did. Whence we may reasonably presume, that this horrid villany could nowhere be hatched but in these infernal assemblies.”... “I can prove by the incontestable evidence of great numbers, both of his constant and accidental hearers, that a _community of goods_ is a common topic of discourse with him, in his sermons, in his expositions, and in his private conversation also. I know, that, he has endeavoured to persuade several of his followers to sell their estates and possessions, as the first Christians did, for the relief of their poor brethren; and that he has declared over and over, _That private property was inconsistent with Christianity; and that as long as any one had anything of his own, he could not enter into the kingdom of heaven._”... “It is surprising to the last degree that a set of incorrigible wretches should be thus suffered to trample with impunity on all laws, ecclesiastical and civil; to spread doctrines subversive both to religion and the state; to form secret assemblies and cabals, in order to disturb the repose of society, and throw everything into confusion and disorder. No one in the world is a heartier friend to toleration, or would make more favourable allowances to tender consciences, than myself; but, God forbid! that, under the notion of toleration, we should give opportunity to cheats and impostors to sow their hemlock and nightshade among us; to extirpate all traces of true religion and virtue; or to traitors and rebels to sap the foundation of our civil constitution; to deliver up our king and our country to ruin.”

Thus, _nolens volens_, was Ingham branded as a _Communist_, and the author of the Yorkshire riots. It was far from pleasant to be pelted with such paper pellets; but there was no help for it. In every age, the inspired text has been literally fulfilled, “All that will live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution.” We are not prepared to justify everything which Ingham said and did; but we are prepared to deny, with righteous indignation, that he was a _communist_ and a _rioter_. His enemies were too bitter to be truthful. His utterances respecting the members of the primitive Church were perverted to serve a malignant purpose. They might, on some occasions, be unguarded; but they were not intended to sanction communistic politics. He himself repudiated such intention; but his adversaries persisted in their unrighteous accusation, and made it worse by charging him with mendacity. It was hard usage; but not uncommon among the Moravians and Methodists. The newspaper controversy respecting Ingham was ended; but, for ten months afterwards, Mr. Hooker employed almost every number of his _Weekly Miscellany_ in abusing the Methodists, and Wesley and Whitefield in particular.

This is a long account of what some may deem a comparatively unimportant chapter in Ingham’s life; but, we trust, it may not be altogether uninteresting and useless; first, because, we believe, this was the only newspaper warfare that fell to Ingham’s lot; and, secondly, and especially, because it shows the unfavourable circumstances under which John Nelson began to preach, and the difficulty there must have been in instituting Yorkshire Methodism only a few months afterwards.

Ingham’s ministerial labours were not confined to his native county. John Bennett brought him into Derbyshire.[101] We have also seen, that, he paid frequent visits to the metropolis. Bedford, likewise, and the vicinity were favoured with his preaching. His Christian sympathy was world-wide. Six years before, he had crossed the Atlantic to convert the Indians. He was an active member of the Moravian “Society for the Furtherance of the Gospel”; and having, by some means, become acquainted with the great Dissenter of the day, the Rev. Dr. Doddridge, proposed him as one of its corresponding members. Hence the following letter sent to Doddridge:—

“LONDON, _August 6th, 1741_.

“DEAR SIR,—I have here sent you the letters I promised you. I am also to inform you, that you are chosen to be a corresponding member of the ‘Society for the Furtherance of the Gospel.’ Before you expressed your desire to me, I had already proposed you to the committee, who all approved of you; and, after the meeting was over, when I mentioned you to the society, they all unanimously chose you without balloting; so that, when you are in London, you will not only have the liberty to hear the letters and accounts read, but also to meet with the members about business,—and, further, to be in the committee. The brethren will be glad to hear from you as often as you please, and they, from time to time, will send you some accounts of the transactions of the Society. I gave what you entrusted me with to the box. Mr. Moody gave a guinea. Brother Spangenberg and all the brethren salute you.

“Your affectionate friend and brother in Christ,

“B. INGHAM.”

Doddridge’s answer was as follows:—

“NORTHAMPTON, _August 8th, 1741_.

“REV. AND DEAR BROTHER,—I am thankful to the ‘Society for the Furtherance of the Gospel’ for their readiness to admit so unworthy a member, and hope, as the Lord shall enable me, to approve myself cordially affectionate, though incapable of giving much assistance.

“I did this day, in our Church meeting, publicly report some important facts from Brother Hutton and others, as to the success of our dear Moravian Brethren and their associates. We rejoiced in the Lord at the joyful tidings, and joined in recommending them to the grace of God. I hope Providence will enable me to be a little serviceable to this good design. I shall gladly continue to correspond with the Society, and gladly hope to have some good news from these parts ere long. In the mean time, I humbly commend myself to your prayers and theirs.

“The conversation at Mr. Moody’s, on Monday morning, has left a deep impression on my heart. Salute my dear brethren, Messrs. Spangenberg and Kinchin, with Mr. Hutton, etc. I shall hope to hear when that blessed herald of our Redeemer, Count Zinzendorf, arrives. We long to see you. God brought me home in peace, and I found all well here. My wife and other friends salute you in the Lord.

“I am, dear sir, your unworthy but affectionate friend in our gracious Lord,

“PHILIP DODDRIDGE.

“P.S.—I have looked over several of the letters with great pleasure, and heartily thank you for sending them. Glory be to Him, who causes His gospel to triumph, and magnifies the riches of His grace in getting Himself the victory, by soldiers, who, out of weakness, are made strong. If Christ raise to Himself a seed among the Negroes and Hottentots, I will honour them beyond all the politest nations upon earth that obey not His glorious gospel.”[102]

This Missionary Society, of which Ingham was one of the chief members, though still in its infancy, had already accomplished a most marvellous and blessed work. Its origin was remarkable. In 1731, Count Zinzendorf visited Copenhagen, for the purpose of being present at the coronation of Christian VI., king of Denmark. Whilst there, some of the count’s servants became acquainted with a negro, from the island of St. Thomas, in the West Indies. The negro told them of the ardent desire of many of the slaves in that island to be taught the way of salvation; but added, that their labours were so incessant that they had no leisure for religious instruction; and that the only way to reach them was for the missionary himself to become a slave, and to teach them during their daily toils. This was related to the Brethren of Herrnhut; and the result was, two young men, Leonard Dover and Tobias Leupold publicly offered to go to St. Thomas’s, and even to _sell themselves as slaves_, if they could find no other way of preaching to the negroes. Thus began the Moravian missions to the heathen; and, within ten years, at the time when Ingham proposed Doddridge as a corresponding member of the Society for the Furtherance of the Gospel, missionaries had been sent to St. Thomas’s, to St. Croix, to Greenland, to Surinam, to the Rio de Berbice, to several Indian tribes in North America, to the negroes in South Carolina, to Lapland, to Tartary, to Algiers, to Guinea, to the Cape of Good Hope, and to Ceylon.

Among others greatly benefited by Ingham’s ministry, were the four daughters of the Earl of Huntingdon, Lady Anne, Lady Frances, Lady Catherine, and Lady Margaret Hastings. While on a visit at Ledstone Hall, in Yorkshire, they were induced, by motives of curiosity, to hear him preach in a neighbouring parish. He was then invited to preach in Ledsham Church; and became a frequent visitor at the Hall. When in London, the Ladies Hastings attended the preaching of the Moravians and first Methodists. Under this ministry, they were given to see the insufficiency of their own righteousness and the method of salvation on which they had been resting, and were made willing to receive the Lord Jesus Christ as the foundation of their hope and trust. Lady Margaret was the first who received the truth; and the change effected, by the Holy Spirit, on her heart soon became visible to all. Considering the obligations she was under to the grace of God, she felt herself called upon to seek the salvation of her fellow-creatures, and the promotion of their best and eternal interests. Next to her own soul, the salvation of her own family and friends became her care. She exhorted them faithfully and affectionately, one by one, to “flee from the wrath to come;” and the Lord was pleased to make her the honoured instrument of the conversion of not a few of them. Her brother, the ninth Earl of Huntingdon, had been married to Lady Selina Shirley, second daughter of Earl Ferrers; and it is a fact too interesting to be omitted, that, the conversion of this remarkable woman was, under God, the result of a casual remark which fell from Lady Margaret. The two conversing one day, on the subject of religion, Lady Margaret observed, “That since she had known and believed in the Lord Jesus Christ for life and salvation, she had been as happy as an angel.” This scrap of Methodist lovefeast-experience was “a word spoken in due season.” It led to self-examination, and to scriptural inquiry; and Selina, Countess of Huntingdon, never rested until she also had found peace with God through faith in Christ.

Lady Margaret Hastings was united in marriage to Mr. Ingham, on November 12th, 1741, at the residence of her brother, the Earl of Huntingdon, in London. The union was a happy one. To the last moments of his life, Ingham expressed the highest veneration and affection for his wife, and was honoured with the intimate friendship of several of her noble relatives. The marriage, in some aristocratic circles, was considered a _mésalliance_, and furnished food for scandal in the fashionable world. “The Methodists,” said the Countess of Hertford, “have had the honour to convert my Lord and Lady Huntingdon, both to their doctrine and practice; and the town now says, that Lady Margaret Hastings is certainly to marry one of their teachers, whose name is Ingham.” “The news I hear from London,” wrote Lady Mary Wortley Montague, from Rome, “is that Lady Margaret Hastings has disposed of herself to a poor, wandering Methodist preacher.” The higher classes of society indulged in ridicule; the poor Moravians gave thanks to God, and prayed for the newly-wedded couple. Ingham wrote to inform the Brethren of his marriage, and the Brethren sang for him the hymn beginning—

“Take their poor hearts, and let them be, For ever closed to all but Thee,” etc.

Ingham had enemies, some of them, as already shown extremely bitter; but one of them, at least, was doubtless well pleased with Ingham’s marriage. By this event, the Vicar of Dewsbury got rid of a neighbour who had greatly troubled him; for Ingham now removed from Osset, the place of his nativity, to Aberford, a village about five miles from Tadcaster, and sixteen miles south-west of York; and here he continued to reside until his death.

It has been already stated that, on July 30th, 1742, nine months after his marriage, Ingham formally transferred his Yorkshire and Lancashire societies, above fifty in number, to the Moravians; and, henceforward, these societies were placed under the control of the Moravian ministerial conclave at Smith House, near Halifax.

Besides these societies, however, Ingham was connected with others. A great work had been wrought in the midland counties. The Rev. Jacob Rogers, a clergyman of the Established Church, had preached with much power and success at Bedford. Mr. Francis Okeley had assisted him; and thither Ingham repaired, and preached several times in St. Paul’s Church, to vast multitudes, who listened to him with profound attention. The number of converts increased daily, and were formed into societies, like those in Yorkshire. Being formed, the next point was how to manage them. Ingham was consulted; and, by his advice they, also, were placed under the care of Moravian ministers. This prepared the way for the settlement of the United Brethren at Bedford, in 1745; and for the erection of their chapel there in 1751.

By these arrangements, Ingham freed himself from an immense amount of personal responsibility. His old friend, Wesley, was not only forming societies, but ruling them. On the contrary, Ingham formed societies, and left them to be ruled by others. By this means, Moravianism found admission to the midland counties, and instituted a flourishing and permanent Church in Yorkshire and the neighbourhood round about. Ingham was left at liberty to be what he evidently liked,—an evangelist at large. He was also helped by earnest co-adjutors. There were the Batty Brothers,—Lawrence, William, and Christopher, of Catherine Hall, Cambridge, sons of Mr. Giles Batty, a man of considerable respectability, who resided at Newby Cote, near Settle. The three brothers were all eloquent and popular preachers. Then there was John Nelson, the sturdy Methodist, whom Ingham left behind at Birstal. Also David Taylor, formerly footman to Lady Ingham,—a man who had been converted under Ingham’s ministry, and who, notwithstanding certain vacillations, was a great and successful preacher, and raised societies in Derbyshire, Leicestershire, and in some parts of Lancashire and Yorkshire. Others might be mentioned, if space permitted.

Ingham had no warmer friend than Whitefield, who watched the steps taken by his old acquaintance with the utmost interest. The following letter will not be considered out of place:—

“LONDON, _May 6th, 1743_.

“MY DEAR BROTHER,—Your very kind letter I had not the pleasure of receiving till yesterday. It was very acceptable, and knits my heart closer to you than ever. I love your honest soul, and long for that time when the disciples, of Christ, of different sects, shall be joined in far closer fellowship one with another. Our divisions have grieved my heart. I heartily approve of the meeting of the chief labourers together.

“I am just returned from a circuit of about four hundred miles. I have been as far as Haverfordwest, and was enabled to preach with great power. Thousands and tens of thousands flocked to hear the word, and the souls of God’s children were much refreshed.

“I am glad the Lord hath opened fresh doors for you, my dear brother. The rams’ horns are sounding about Jericho; surely the towering walls will at length fall down. But we must have patience. He that believeth doth not make haste. The rams’ horns must go round seven times. Our divisions in England have the worst aspect, while they are now united in Wales; but even this shall work for good, and cause the Redeemer’s glory to shine more conspicuously. This is my comfort,—‘The government is upon His shoulders,’ and He is a ‘wonderful counsellor.’

“But where am I running? Pardon me. I am writing to my dear Mr. Ingham. I rejoice in the expectation of seeing you in town. I hope to be in town at the time, and to enjoy some of our former happy seasons. In the mean while, I salute you from my inmost soul; and desire, as often as opportunity offers, a close correspondence may be kept up between you and, my dear brother, your most affectionate unworthy brother and servant,

“GEORGE WHITEFIELD.”

Ingham was now one of the most influential members of the Moravian Church, in England; and, accompanied by Mr. and Mrs. James Hutton, and the Sisters, Esther Kinchin, Mary Bowes, and Martha Ireland, set out on May 20th, 1743, to attend a Moravian Synod, to be held at Hirschberg, in Germany, from the first to the twelfth of July inclusive. This important Synod seems to have supervised the Moravian operations generally; including not only the affairs of the English Churches, but those of the Continent and Livonia, where fourteen hundred labourers of the Brethren were employed in endeavouring to bring men to a knowledge of the truth as it is in Jesus.

So far as the English community was concerned, it was determined:

“That, the London Church should be regarded as a choir of labourers (distinct from the Society and its general meetings, etc.); each member of which was to consider him or herself as in preparation, by the Lord, for future service in any station, post, or office, to which He might call them.

“That this Church, as a body of labourers, consisting of only a few souls who were wholly devoted to our Saviour, might enjoy all the privileges and discipline of a Church elsewhere, which the mere members of Society, by reason of their not dwelling together, could not enjoy.

“That this Church should be in stillness, none knowing of it but such as were in it. (See Rev. ii. 17.) This London Church, also, should cleave to the Pilgrim Church, as the body to its soul.

“The Pilgrim Church was described as a congregation of labourers who go hither and thither; whom no one knows but he to whom it is revealed.[103] Every one who has a whole mind to our Saviour, is a member of it. It is composed of persons who indissolubly cleave together, as a testimony in the Saviour’s wounds, against all who are unfaithful; witnesses whom the Lord will preserve in the hour of trial; souls who neither have nor desire any abiding city in this life, and who labour for the good of others among all religions, but never form themselves into a sect.

“This Church is not the Moravian Church, but its servants, sojourning so long in it as the children and servants of God, or rather the spiritual Church of God, has freedom of action and is acknowledged. This relationship to the Moravian Church remains only so long as she herself abides faithful.

“The connection between London and Yorkshire was thus defined: That London, as a choir of labourers (a small flock hidden as yet and acting quietly), should provide labourers for Yorkshire, and train up souls which were to be sent from Yorkshire for the purpose; Yorkshire being the county where our Saviour exhibited His Church openly, and where, for the present, the congregation of the Brethren should be settled. The London Church being private, was to have a particular connection with Yorkshire, and be, in a measure, dependent upon it, inasmuch as the chief elders were at this time there.”

The above are extracts from the Memoirs of James Hutton, at that period, the chief of the London Moravians. It is difficult for an outsider to understand and rightly interpret some of the expressions; but, upon the whole, it appears, 1. That the chief settlement of the Moravians was in Yorkshire; and, 2. That London was the training college of their ministers.

It is a well-known fact, that 1744 was a year of great anxiety. England was threatened with a French invasion, and with the unwelcome presence of the Jacobite Pretender. A large number of loyal addresses were presented to the king. Wesley wrote one on behalf of the Methodists, but his brother Charles successfully objected to its presentation, because its being sent, in the _name of the Methodists_, would constitute them a sect, at least would _seem to allow_ that they were a body distinct from the Church of England. The same difficulty was felt by the Moravians; and, on April 23, a Conference of six persons met in London, respecting the Address. Ingham went all the way from Yorkshire, to be present; and seems to have been the presiding spirit. The Conference perceived that, when so many addresses were being presented to the king, the Moravians might be regarded with suspicion, unless they also presented one; but the perplexity was how to designate the Moravian community. The Wesleys were unwilling for the Methodists to be regarded as Dissenters from the Church of England, and so were the Moravians. Brother Neisser, one of the Conference, attempted to solve the difficulty by observing, that “the English brethren, who had joined the Moravian Church, were not, on that account, Dissenters from the English Church.” They had taken such a step merely “to enjoy the blessed discipline of the Apostolic Churches, which was wanting in the English Church.” This was a solution scarcely sufficient to relieve the mind from doubt; but an address was written; and, on April 27, Ingham Hutton, and Bell went to Court, and, being admitted to the chamber of audience, Ingham delivered into the hand of the king the document which had been prepared. His Majesty, smiling graciously, accepted the same, and Ingham kissed his hand. The following is an extract:—

TO THE KING’S MOST EXCELLENT MAJESTY.—The humble Address of his Majesty’s Protestant subjects, the United Brethren in England, in union with the ancient Protestant Episcopal Bohemian and Moravian Church:—

“Presented to his Majesty by the Rev. Mr. Ingham, Mr. Hutton, Mr. Bell, Registrar of the said Congregation in London.

“MOST GRACIOUS SOVEREIGN,—May it please your sacred Majesty graciously to accept this Address, which, with all humility, is presented by your Majesty’s most dutiful and loyal subjects, the United Brethren in England, in union with the Bohemian and Moravian Church.

“We are, though despised and hated, and few in number, a happy people, consisting of persons out of several sects and parties of Protestants, who, from an earnest concern for our own salvation, and a zeal for the good of others, are united together; and, for the sake of her excellent discipline, are in union with the ancient Protestant Episcopal Bohemian and Moravian Church, one of the earliest witnesses against, and sufferers by, the Papists; a sister of the Church of England; their doctrines also, in the fundamental points, being the same.”

Having thus defined themselves, they then declare affectionate loyalty to his “Majesty’s sacred person, family, and government;” and their “abhorrence for Popery and Popish pretenders,”—and conclude thus:—

“We, therefore, shall stand by your Majesty to the utmost of our power, and especially by our prayers, which are our only weapons.

“May the Lord of hosts direct all your Majesty’s councils and undertakings, and turn the design of all your enemies into foolishness! The Lord our God be with you. Amen.

“Presented in behalf of all the United Brethren in England, in union with the Bohemian and Moravian Church. April 27, 1744.”[104]

This Address will help to define the position in which Ingham stood, with reference to the Moravian Church and the Church of England.

There is another important fact belonging to the year 1744. For some reason,—probably the disturbed state of the country,—the Brethren were prohibited preaching in the open air; and, from this period, Ingham relinquished all out-door services. In this, also, he differed from his quondam friend Wesley, who, for forty-seven years afterwards, persisted in “field-preaching.”

It has been already stated that Smith House, near Halifax, had been made the head-quarters of the Moravian community in Yorkshire. This took place about the year 1741. In 1743, Mr. Holmes, the proprietor of the place, died; and, on account of his widow not being well-disposed towards her peculiar tenants, the Brethren found it necessary to look out for another and more permanent establishment. Just at this juncture, Zinzendorf visited Yorkshire; and, one day, when climbing a mountain on which Bank House, near Pudsey, stood, he had such a sweet feeling and deep impression of the place, that he called it “_Lamb’s Hill_,” fully believing, that, it would become the site of a Moravian settlement. Strangely enough, the Hill soon afterwards was advertised for sale; in 1744, Ingham, at the request of a Moravian synod, bought it; and, on the 10th of May, 1746, the foundation stone of “Grace Hall, at Lamb’s Hill,” was laid amid great rejoicing. At six in the afternoon, the whole congregation came together, and sang a hymn, after which, Toltschig delivered an address. A letter was read from Lady Ingham, expressing her great satisfaction in regard to the building of the Hall; the stone was to have been laid by Ingham, but, being unexpectedly detained in Lancashire, the office was performed by Toltschig, and the ceremonial was concluded with singing songs of praise. The building was completed in 1748; choir houses and schools were added; private dwellings were erected; and a Moravian settlement was established, which, in 1763, was called Fulneck, Ingham all the while being the proprietor of the soil.[105] Wesley visited the place in 1747, and wrote:—

“We walked to the new house of the Germans. It stands on the side of a hill, commanding all the vale beneath, and the opposite hill The front is exceeding grand, though plain, being faced with fine, smooth, white stone. The Germans suppose it will cost, by the time it is finished, about three thousand pounds: it is well if it be not nearer ten. But that is no concern to the English Brethren; for they are told (and potently believe), that ‘all the money will come from beyond the sea.’”

Thirty-three years after this, Wesley paid another visit. The following extract, from his Journal, will show how Fulneck had increased:—

“_1780. April 17._—I walked to Fulneck, the German settlement. Mr. Moore showed us the house, chapel, hall, lodging-rooms, the apartments of the widows, the single men, and single women. He showed us likewise the workshops of various kinds, with the shops for grocery, drapery, mercery, hardware, etc., with which, as well as with bread from their bakehouse, they furnish the adjacent country. I see not what but the mighty power of God can hinder them from acquiring millions; as they, 1. Buy all materials with ready money at the best hand; 2. Have above a hundred young men, above fifty young women, many widows, and above a hundred married persons; all of whom are employed from morning to night, without any intermission, in various kinds of manufactures, not for journeymen’s wages, but for no wages at all, save a little very plain food and raiment; as they have, 3. A quick sale for all their goods, and sell them all for ready money. But can they lay up treasure on earth, and, at the same time, lay up treasure in heaven?”

This is not the place to write a history of Fulneck; but merely to show Ingham’s connection with it.

It was about this period (1746), that Ingham and Grimshaw, of Haworth, became acquainted; and once, and sometimes twice, a year, Grimshaw preached throughout Ingham’s circuit. The Societies increased rapidly, and spread, not only in Yorkshire, but also in Westmoreland, Cumberland, Lancashire, Lincolnshire, Derbyshire, and Cheshire. General meetings of the preachers and exhorters were held with frequency, several of which were attended by the Countess of Huntingdon and Lady Margaret Ingham. Grimshaw invariably attended these meetings, and always preached, never troubling himself to ask the consent of the minister, or caring whether he liked it or not. Sometimes the two itinerant clergymen met with treatment far from pleasant.

As a specimen, the following may be given. Ingham, and Mr. Batty, one of his preachers, had been several times to Colne, and had succeeded in establishing a small society. Occasionally they were accompanied by Grimshaw; and, in this instance, the three commenced a meeting by the singing of a hymn. As soon as they begun, the Rev. George White, the notorious vicar of Colne and Marsden, rushed into the house, staff in hand, attended by the constable and a mob collected from the lowest and most depraved people of the town. White sprang towards Batty with intent to strike him. Ingham, perceiving the danger of his friend, instantly pulled him out of the reach of his clerical assailant, and retired into an adjoining room. The vicar and the constable threatened to put the master of the house into the parochial stocks, and attempted to take him away by force. The man demanded the constable’s authority; and the official, finding that he had none, was obliged to release his prisoner. White and his officer of the peace then insisted, that, Ingham and Grimshaw should sign a paper, promising not to preach in the parish of Colne during the next twelve months, under a penalty of fifty pounds. The demand was met by a firm refusal; and now the “Captain-General,” as White was designated, ordered the mob to lead away their captives. This was done, and, on the way, every friend who attempted to speak to them was abused and beaten. New proposals were made, that, Grimshaw and Ingham should give a written promise not to preach at Colne for six months, and then two; but without success. Magnanimously giving up the written document, the mob asked a promise _upon their word and honour_; but this proposal also was rejected. Finding it impossible to coerce the three evangelists, the rioters let loose their vengeance. Ingham, Grimshaw, and Batty were violently dragged along the road, with clubs brandished about their heads. They were pelted with mud and dirt; and, with Ingham’s coat torn and hanging on the ground, were conducted to the Swan Inn, there to receive magisterial justice at the hands of the Rev. Mr. White.[106]

In 1747, the chief labourers, Ingham, Gambold, Hutton, and Okeley, attended a Synod at Herrnhaag, in Germany. Many English affairs were carefully considered, especially the history of the English congregations since 1737, and the gradual separation of the Brethren’s labours from those of the Methodists. The peculiar choir regulations were gradually introduced into England. The Discourses of Zinzendorf, the Church Litany, the Liturgies, the Common Prayers of the Brethren, and the Hymns of the Day, were translated into English; and the more intimate the acquaintance of the English Brethren became with German formularies, the more the Methodistic element was banished from among them. The Brethren and Methodists moved _alongside_ of each other; and, not unfrequently, there was considerable flank-firing.

In July, 1748, Whitefield arrived in England, after an absence of nearly four years. Ingham wrote to his old friend, who sent the following affectionate reply:—

“LONDON, _August 11, 1748_.

“MY VERY DEAR MR. INGHAM,—Your kind letter, which I received but yesterday, having been taken a little tour in the country, both grieved and pleased me. Glad was I to find, that, my dear old friend had not forgotten me; and yet sorry, at it were, that, I had not written to him first. I was just going to put pen to paper, when yours was brought to my hands. I read it with joy; and now embrace the first opportunity of answering it with the greatest pleasure. These words concerning our Lord have always been weighty on my heart: ‘Having loved His own, He loved them unto the end.’ They, therefore, that are most like Him, will be most steady in their friendship, and not very readily given to change. O my dear sir, what has the Redeemer done for us since we used to take such sweet counsel together at Oxford! Blessed be His name for giving you a heart still to preach among poor sinners the unsearchable riches of Christ! May you go on and prosper, and, maugre all opposition, see Dagon fall everywhere before the ark! As for me, I am a poor worthless pilgrim, and thought long ere now to be with Him, who has loved and given Himself for me. But it seems, I am not yet to die, but live. Oh that it may be to declare the work of the Lord! I think, this is the thirteenth province I have been in within this twelve-month, in each of which our Lord has been pleased to set His seal to my unworthy ministry. I came from _Bermudas_ last, where I left many souls seeking after Jesus of Nazareth. In London, Bristol, Gloucester, and Wales, the glorious Emmanuel, since my arrival, has appeared to His people. In about a fortnight, I purpose leaving town again, in order to go a circuit of about five hundred miles. I need not desire you to pray for me: I need not tell you how glad I shall be, whenever opportunity offers, to see you face to face. In the meantime, let us correspond by letter. May Jesus bless it to us both! I return cordial respects to Lady Margaret. I pray the Lord to bless her and her little nursery. For the present, Adieu!

“I am, my dear Mr. Ingham, ever yours,

“GEORGE WHITEFIELD.”

In course of time, Whitefield came to Yorkshire; and Ingham and Batty accompanied him throughout the county, and occasionally preached with him. They were also his companions into Lancashire and Cheshire. He preached four times at Aberford, the place of Ingham’s residence; and everywhere immense crowds attended him. The tour was a triumphal one; and, moreover, the two old Oxford friends were reunited. In one place, Whitefield mounted a temporary scaffold to address the thousands who stood before him; and, with a solemnity peculiarly his own, announced his text,—“It is appointed unto men once to die; but after this the judgment.” No sooner had the words escaped his lips, than a terrifying shriek issued from the centre of the congregation. Grimshaw hurried to the place where Whitefield stood, and shouted,—“Brother Whitefield, you stand among the dead and dying,—an immortal soul has been called into eternity,—the destroying angel is passing over the congregation,—cry aloud and spare not.” A few moments elapsed, and Whitefield re-announced his text; when another loud shriek was heard; a shriek which, in this instance, came from the spot where the Countess of Huntingdon and Lady Margaret Ingham were standing. A _second_ person had dropped down dead. Consternation was general; but Whitefield proceeded with the service, and, in a strain of tremendous eloquence, warned the wicked to flee from the wrath to come.[107] Who can adequately conceive, and paint the scene just mentioned? Whitefield on a platform,—thousands assembled before him,—two in the midst of them, in an instant, struck with death,—the Incumbent of Haworth rushing to the preacher with his irrepressible exclamation,—and two noble ladies, with Ingham at their side, gazing at the awful spectacle, their souls thrilled with feelings which no language can describe. And yet, if not in regard to the death occurrences, in point of solemn sublimity and religious grandeur, Whitefield’s life was full of such scenic facts.

Mention has been made of Ingham and Whitefield becoming reunited. During this same evangelistic tour, efforts were used to reunite Ingham and his old friend Wesley. Seven years before, they had separated. Both were intensely conscientious, and were actuated by the purest religious motives; but their course of action was different. Ingham was a Moravian: Wesley was a Methodist. The two designations were often used synonymously; and yet their meanings were widely different. By order of Zinzendorf, an advertisement had been published, in the _Daily Advertiser_, declaring, that, the Moravians had no connection with the Wesleys. Angry pamphlets, on both sides, had been issued; and angry feelings, both among Moravians and Methodists, had been kindled. It was hardly possible for Ingham and Wesley to live on the same terms of intimate friendship as they had done at Oxford and in Georgia. There is no evidence, that, they ever _quarrelled_; but they were undoubtedly _estranged_. This was painful both to themselves and to a certain circle of their friends; and, as above stated, means were used to reunite them. Hence the following, extracted from a letter, addressed to Wesley, by the Rev. Mr. Milner, Incumbent of Chipping, in Lancashire, who accompanied Whitefield, Ingham, and Grimshaw in their glorious visits to Manchester, Stockport, and other places:—

“CHIPPING, _January 11, 1750_.

“MY MOST DEAR AND REV. BROTHER, WHOM I LOVE IN THE TRUTH,—I have had twice the pleasure of seeing Mr. Ingham; and must say, there is a great deal of amiable sweetness in his whole behaviour. I have often and earnestly wished that he was disentangled from the Moravians, and cordially _one_ with you in promoting the interests of the gospel. The last time I saw him, he was employed in reconciling two of the Brethren, who had run great hazards and suffered much hardship in the service of the gospel. He allows you incomparably the preference for prudence; but says, you have not done the count” (Zinzendorf) “justice. He adds, that, he endeavoured to prevail with you not to publish the Difference;[108] and thought he had prevailed, till he heard that it was published;—and that he would gladly have been reconciled, and got Mr. W⸺d” (Whitefield) “to go from his house to N⸺e” (Newcastle), “to bring about a reconciliation; but you were not inclined to it,—‘the time being not yet come.’ At first, I looked upon the difference, as that betwixt Paul and Barnabas, which was a furtherance of the gospel of Christ; but since I knew more of the doctrine of the _still Brethren_, I have not had the same favourable opinion of them. Yet, I cannot help thinking, Mr. Ingham is happy. May some good Providence bring you speedily together! For, surely, such souls must glow with love at meeting, and all unkindness fly at first sight!”[109]

So far as it concerned Ingham, things were now coming to a crisis. For about a dozen years, he had been a Moravian; but Moravianism, always eccentric, was now becoming arrogant. Everything was carried on upon a higher scale, both in diet and clothing, with a view to the benevolent but impracticable design of abolishing the distinction between the different stations in life. This, however, only tended to make persons of low degree exalt themselves above their station in society, which, in more respects than one, was really injurious. Then there was also a season of trial, which is known in the Brethren’s Church, under the name of ‘_the great sifting_,’—especially from 1745 to 1749. The Yorkshire Diary of the Brethren, 1747-1749, speaks of “the _light and trifling spirit_, which had crept into almost all the congregations, both in doctrine and practice;” and joins “in thanksgiving to the Head of the Church, who had caused a deep shame and contrition to take place in the hearts of the true Brethren and Sisters.” In June, 1749, Zinzendorf addressed a pompous letter to the Archbishop of Canterbury, giving him a catalogue of the Moravian Bishops, Administrators of Tropuses, and Evangelics. He spoke of himself as, “Lewis, by Divine Providence, Bishop, Liturgus, and Ordinary of the Churches known by the name of the Brethren; and, under the auspices of the same, Advocate during life, with full power over the hierarchy of the Slavonic Unity, Custos rotulorum, and Prolocutor both of the general Synod, and of the Tropus of Instruction.” In a postscript, he made a characteristic attack on Sherlock, Bishop of London, as follows:—

“P.S. The Bishop of London has acted wrongfully and most injudiciously for the interest of his own Church; inasmuch, as he has not only declined intercourse with the Brethren, but likewise communicated a private decision to a certain Deacon of our Church. He has sinned against the first principles of uprightness, equity, and prudence; and, by doing so, has done dishonour to the ecclesiastical order. It is not your part to threaten and to act insolently, but cautiously; for your interest, and not ours, is concerned.

“LEWIS, Bishop, with his own hand.”

To say the least, this was hardly modest, on the part of a foreigner, when addressed to the highest dignitary of the English Church. It is also noticeable, that, in the list of Bishops, Administrators of Tropuses, Evangelics, and Primary Ministers, sent to his Grace of Canterbury, the name of Ingham is not included. Why was this?

Further,—a new “Church Litany,” of great length, and curious construction, had been published, and was now in use in the Congregations of the Brethren. Lindsey House, in Chelsea, was bought of Sir Hans Sloane; and, at a great expense, was converted into the head-quarters of English Moravianism. Zinzendorf was the pope of the English Brotherhood. All bishops and elders were subordinate to him; and, under the name “Papa,” he was exclusively the ruler of their Church. He caused to be published a Hymn-book, in two volumes; the second of which was filled with doggerel of the worst description. He had had the effrontery to ask the English Parliament to pass an Act, not only recognising the _Unitas Fratrum_ as an ancient Protestant Episcopal Church; but also exempting them from taking oaths; from being summoned as jurymen; and, in the American colonies, from being called upon to engage in military service. Marvellous to relate, all this was granted; but one demand of the Moravian “Papa” was rejected. He asked for power to be vested in himself, to enjoin upon the bishops and ministers of the Church of England to give certificates, that, the parties holding them, were members of the _Unitas Fratrum_; and, therefore, entitled to the exemptions specified. The Lord Chancellor objected to this putting of the prelates and clergy of the Established Church beneath the power of a foreign count. “Against the will of the king,” exclaimed this modest man; “I would not like to press the matter; but a _limitation of the Act_ I will not accept. Everything or nothing. No modifications.” This was German rodomontade; for, rather than lose his Bill, he relinquished his claim to be empowered to coerce the bishops and clergy of the English Church to grant the certificates. The Act of Parliament was passed on the 12th of May, 1749. A few months afterwards, Zinzendorf published a folio volume, entitled “Acta Fratrum in Angliâ,” and containing, besides the Moravian public negotiations in England, an exposition of the Moravian doctrine, liturgy, etc. The book was full of repulsive jargon; and the less that is said respecting it the better.

Besides all this, an enormous debt had been contracted. A crop of lawsuits sprung up. Zinzendorf and others were in danger of arrest. Bankruptcy was imminent; disgrace was great; and scandals of all kinds were rife. Henry Rimius, “Aulic Counsellor to his late Majesty the King of Prussia,” published an octavo pamphlet of 177 pages, in which Zinzendorf was accused of flagrant falsehood. Wesley read the pamphlet as soon as it was printed; and wrote, “I still think several of the inconsiderable members of that” (Moravian) “community, are upright; but I fear their governors wax worse and worse,—having their conscience seared as with a hot iron.”

Whitefield, in 1753, published “An Expostulatory Letter, addressed to Nicholas Lewis, Count Zinzendorf, and Lord Advocate of the Unitas Fratrum,” in which he charges Zinzendorf and his friends with “Misguiding many honest-hearted Christians; with distressing, if not ruining, numerous families; and with introducing a whole farrago of superstitious, not to say idolatrous, fopperies into the English nation.”

Another pamphlet was published, at the same time, and created considerable excitement. Its long title will suggest an idea of its contents. “A true and authentic Account of Andrew Frey: containing the occasion of his coming among the Hernhutters, or Moravians; his Observations on their Conferences, Casting Lots, Marriages, Festivals, Merriments, Celebrations of Birth-Days, impious Doctrines, and fantastical Practices, Abuse of charitable Contributions, linen Images, ostentatious Profuseness, and Rancour against any who in the least differ from them; and the Reasons for which he left them; together with the Motives for publishing this Account. Faithfully transcribed from the German.”

Wesley writes,—

“_1753, November 3rd._ I read over Andrew Frey’s reasons for leaving the Brethren. Most of what he says, I knew before; yet, I cannot speak of them in the manner in which he does; I pity them too much to be bitter against them.”

It would not be pleasant to enter into further details. Enough has been said to show that, Ingham had sufficient reasons to sever his connections with the Moravians. He had found the money for the purchase of the land about Grace Hall (Fulneck); and, in 1753, asked for the repayment; but money was not forthcoming, and he agreed to receive a yearly rental of £30 instead of it.[110]

The particulars of Ingham’s separation from the Moravian community have not been published; but he now formed a circuit of his own of about five hundred miles, and had several thousand followers. Members were received by laying on of hands; they had elders; and the feast of charity; and the Lord’s Supper once a month.

Ingham was the chief of the new sect in Yorkshire and the neighbouring counties. One of his principal co-workers was Mr. J. Allen; who, in 1752, and when only eighteen years of age, became a preacher in the Inghamite connexion. Allen was the eldest son of Oswald Allen, Esq., of Gayle, in the county of York. His father intended him for the ministry in the Established Church, and placed him under the care of a clergyman, whose inconsistency of conduct seems to have shocked his pupil, and to have made him doubt the propriety of entering into holy orders. In 1748, he was sent to Scorton School, near Richmond, in Yorkshire, conducted by the Rev. Mr. Noble. In the year following, he had the opportunity of hearing Ingham preach, and was converted. In 1751, he was admitted into St. John’s College, Cambridge; and, a year afterwards, as already stated, began himself to preach. For many years, he was one of the most useful and popular preachers in Ingham’s connexion; and his conduct throughout life was becoming a minister of Christ.[111]

Besides Allen, the three Battys, already mentioned, Lawrence, William, and Christopher,—Ingham’s other coadjutors were Hunter and Brogden, both of whom had been in the British army; also James Hartley, Richard Smith, and James Crossley, all of whom had been awakened under the thundering preaching of Grimshaw, the Incumbent of Haworth; and the first and second of whom ultimately became pastors of Baptist congregations; and the third, a minister of an Independent Church at Bradford. Mr. Molesworth, likewise, of Thornhill, and Mr. Fleetwood Churchill, gentlemen descended from families of rank, and moving in the upper ranks of life, were faithful fellow-labourers. All these were earnest evangelists, and most of them suffered serious persecution for the Word of God, and the testimony which they held.[112]

Ingham’s separation from the Moravians altered his relationship to the Methodists; and, at Wesley’s Conference, held in 1753, it was asked, “Can we unite, if it be desired, with Mr. Ingham?—_Answer_: We may now behave to him with all tenderness and love, and unite with him when he returns to the Old Methodist doctrine.”[113] Two years after this, Wesley held his yearly Conference at Leeds; and Ingham summoned several of his preachers to meet him there for the purpose of attending the Conferential sittings. Wesley admitted Ingham; but his coadjutors were excluded. Was it Ingham’s wish to amalgamate his Societies and preachers with the Methodists? This is a question, we cannot answer. One matter, however, was discussed in which Ingham, as an ordained Clergyman of the Church of England, must have felt interest. Wesley writes:—

“The point on which we desired all the preachers to speak their minds at large was, ‘Whether we ought to separate from the Church?’ Whatever was advanced, on one side or the other, was seriously and calmly considered; and, on the third day, we were all fully agreed in that general conclusion,—that, whether it was lawful or not, it was not expedient.”[114]

Supposing that Ingham wished for an amalgamation, this was a decisive answer to his proposal, for already Ingham had separated from the Church, not only by the formation of societies and the employment of lay preachers, but also, and especially, by the institution of separate sacramental services.

Some time after the Conference at Leeds, Ingham went to Derbyshire and Lincolnshire, and thence to Ashby, on a visit to Lady Huntingdon. During his stay, he preached frequently, at her ladyship’s and in the neighbourhood, to large congregations. On his return to Yorkshire, the Countess accompanied him, and visited most of his northern societies.

Whilst she was in Yorkshire, a conference of his preachers was held at Winewall, when, as at Wesley’s first Conference, in 1744, doctrine and discipline were discussed.

In reference to _Doctrine_, it was agreed:—1. That Justification consists in the forgiveness of sins, and an imputation of Christ’s righteousness; and, that, the instrumental cause of this is faith in Christ. 2. That, sanctification consists, not in holy actions, but, in the divine life, new heart and spirit, which are given by Jesus Christ at our justification; and love, joy, and peace, and all the graces or fruits of the Spirit. 3. That, all good works spring from this, as fruit from a tree.

With regard to _Church Government_, it was resolved, That, there should be a _general overseer_, chosen and appointed by the Trustees and by the consent of the Societies.

As was natural, Ingham was set apart to this office; and he proceeded to elect one of the Batty brothers and Mr. Allen, as fellow-helpers; who, after giving an account of their conversion and call to the ministry, and, being examined respecting the doctrines they had preached, and intended to preach in future, were then and there solemnly ordained, by the laying on of Ingham’s hands, and prayer.

In this respect, Ingham was far ahead of his old friend Wesley; for it was not till twenty-eight years after this, that Wesley assumed episcopal functions, by ordaining two of his preachers for America.

From this period, Lady Huntingdon used to call Ingham a _Bishop_; and, in doing so, her ladyship was not seriously wrong. There can be little doubt, that, Ingham, like Wesley, held the opinion, that, “bishops and presbyters are the same order, and consequently have the same right to ordain”; and, assuming this to be correct, there can be no question, that, he, being an acknowledged Presbyter of the Church of England, was also a Bishop.

But to let that pass. Lady Huntingdon, though on the most friendly terms with Ingham, was very far from being satisfied with several of the rules of the Inghamite Societies; and, hence, whilst a visitor at Ingham’s house at Aberford, she conferred with him respecting an amalgamation with the Methodists. Whitefield proceeded to Newcastle-on-Tyne, where, it is said, he met the two Wesleys, and was commissioned by Ingham to offer them his house at Aberford, for the purpose of discussing the subject. Charles Wesley readily assented; but his brother as decidedly objected; and, from that time forth, no further steps were taken to effect a union with the Methodists.

Charles Wesley became an ardent friend and advocate of Ingham. Hence the following extracts from his journal:—

“_1756, October 1st._—I had an opportunity of vindicating my old friend, Benjamin Ingham. It is hard a man should be hanged for his looks,—for the _appearance_ of Moravianism. Their spirit and practices he has as utterly renounced as we have: their manner and phrase cannot as soon be shaken off.”

Again:—

“_1756, October 7th._—I rode on to Aberford. My old friend, Mr. Ingham, was labouring in the vineyard; but I had the happiness to find Lady Margaret at home, and their son Ignatius. She informed me, that, his round takes in about four hundred miles; that, he has six fellow-labourers, and one thousand souls in his Societies, most of them, converted. I sincerely rejoiced in his success. Ignatius was hardly pacified at my not preaching. We passed an hour and a half very profitably, and set out again.”

The Rev. William Romaine, also, became one of Ingham’s frequent visitors, and was received by him and Lady Margaret with every mark of respect and affectionate attention. Indeed, at a period when Romaine’s stipend was quite inadequate to provide sustenance for his family, his necessities were often liberally met by Lady Ingham’s bounty. Ingham sometimes accompanied him in his preaching excursions into several parts of the county of Durham; Romaine preaching wherever he obtained a church, and Ingham in the Methodist Chapels and private houses. Long after this, Romaine remarked in reference to Ingham’s societies,—

“If ever there was a Church of Christ upon earth, that was one. I paid them a visit, and had a great mind to join them. There was a blessed work of God among that people, till that horrid blast from the north came upon them and destroyed all.”

This horrid northern blast must be explained. In 1755, Hervey published his “Theron and Aspasio,” in three octavo volumes. In 1757, Robert Sandeman issued an elaborate reply, in two volumes octavo, entitled, “Letters on Theron and Aspasio, addressed to the Author of that Work.” Very erroneous were some of the views of Sandeman, but, all who have read his publication must admit that he was a man of considerable ability. His work, however, was blemished, not only by heterodox expositions of holy Scripture, but by severe attacks on the chief evangelical preachers and authors of the day. A furious controversy succeeded; and a large number of pamphlets and tracts bearing on the subject were printed. Sandeman’s volumes themselves were in great demand, and, in less than five years, three editions of them were published. His principal doctrine, from which all his other erroneous teachings sprang, was his doctrine of Christian faith. Hervey, Whitefield, Erskine, and others, substantially acquiesced in Wesley’s definition, namely, “Christian faith is not only an assent to the whole gospel of Christ, but also a full reliance on the blood of Christ; a trust in the merits of His life, death, and resurrection; a recumbency on Him as our atonement and our life, _as given for us, and living in us_.” Perhaps it would sound less sectarian to say, that the whole of these distinguished men held the doctrine of the Homilies of the Church of England: “The right and true Christian faith is, not only to believe, that holy Scripture and the articles of our faith are true, but also, to have a sure trust and confidence, to be saved from everlasting damnation by Christ; whereof doth follow a loving heart to obey His commandments.” Or, again; a man’s “sure trust and confidence in God, that, by the merits of Christ, his sins are forgiven, and he reconciled to the favour of God.” “Three things must go together in our justification. Upon God’s part, His great mercy and grace; upon Christ’s part, the satisfaction of God’s justice, by the offering His body and shedding His blood, with fulfilling the law perfectly and thoroughly; and upon our part, true and lively faith in the merits of Jesus Christ. So that, in our justification, there is not only God’s mercy and grace, but His justice also. And so the grace of God doth not shut out the righteousness of God in our justification; but only shutteth out the righteousness of man; that is to say, the righteousness of our works. And, therefore, St. Paul declareth nothing on the behalf of man concerning his justification, but only a true and living faith, which itself is the gift of God. And yet that faith doth not shut out repentance, hope, love, and the fear of God, to be joined with faith in every man that is justified. But it shutteth them out from the office of justifying. So that although they be all present together in him that is justified; yet they justify not altogether.” (_Homilies of the Church of England._)

Sandeman’s views were widely different, as a few extracts from his book will show:—

“Every doctrine which teaches us to do, or endeavour any thing toward our acceptance with God, stands opposed to the doctrine of the Apostles; which, instead of directing us what to do, sets before us all that the most disquieted conscience can require, in order to acceptance with God, as already done and finished by Jesus Christ. What Christ has done, is that which pleases God; what He hath done, is that which quiets the guilty conscience of man as soon as he knows it; so that, whenever he hears of it, he has no occasion for any other question but this, ‘Is it true or not?’ If he finds it true, he is happy; if not, he can reap no comfort by it. If, then, we slight the comfort arising from the bare persuasion of this, it must be owing, at bottom, to our slighting this bare truth, and to our slighting the bare work of Christ, and our considering it as too narrow a foundation whereon to rest the whole of our acceptance with God.” (Vol. i., p. 17.)

“Whatever doctrine teaches us to think, that our acceptance with God is begun by our own good endeavours, seconded by Divine aid, or even first prompted by the Divine influence, leads us to look for acceptance with God by our own righteousness; for whatever I do, however assisted or prompted, is still my own work. Aspasio tells us, ‘Faith is a real persuasion that Christ died _for me_.’ This account of faith somewhat resembles the arch of a bridge thrown over a river, having the one end settled on a rock, and the other on sand or mud. That Christ died, is indeed a truth fully ascertained in the Scriptures; that Christ died _for me_, is a point not so easily settled. This is a point which the Scripture nowhere ascertains; so far from it, that it often affirms the final perdition of many, not merely hearers of the gospel, but who have heard and received it with joy; yea of those who have made such progress, that their only deficiency is, that their fruit came not to perfection.” (Ibid. p. 20.)

“Men are justified by the knowledge of a righteousness finished in the days of Tiberius; and this knowledge operates upon them, and leads them to work righteousness.” (Vol. ii., p. 190.)

“The change made upon a man by the gospel, is called _repentance unto life_,—a change of a man’s mind to love the truth, which always carries in it a sense of shame and regret at his former opposition to it.” (Ibid. p. 193.)

“No man can be assured, that his sins are forgiven him, but in as far as he is freed from the service of sin, and led to work righteousness; for the favour of God can only be enjoyed in studying to do those things which are well pleasing in His sight.” (Ibid. p. 194.)

“When once the saving truth is admitted in the conscience of any man, it becomes, as it were, a new _instinct_ in him, encouraging him to draw near to God, providing him with an answer to the condemning voice of the law, which haunted his conscience before, and opposing the natural pride of his heart, in the exercise of which he formerly lived. By this instinct, he is led to desire ‘the sincere milk of the word, that he may grow thereby.’ And he arrives at the proper consciousness and enjoyment of life, when he comes to full age, and, _by reason of use, has his senses exercised to discern both good and evil_.” (Ibid. p. 200.)

“If, notwithstanding our natural bias against the gospel, our heart condemn us not, as destitute of love to that truth which the world hates, then have we confidence toward God, even as much confidence as the testimony of our own conscience can give us. Yet this is but one witness, and needs to be supported. Here then the Spirit of the truth gives His testimony, as a second witness supporting the former. And this He does, by shedding abroad in the heart, such an abundant sense of the divine love as casts out the anxious fear of coming short of life everlasting. Thus, that love to the truth, which formerly wrought in the way of painful desire, attended with many fears, is perfected, by being crowned with the highest enjoyment it is capable of in this mortal state.” (Ibid. p. 203.)

“Perhaps it may be thought needful, that I should define what I mean by the _popular doctrine_; especially as I have considered many as preachers thereof, who differ remarkably from each other; and particularly as I have ranked amongst them Mr. Wesley, who may justly be reckoned one of the most virulent reproachers of God that this island has produced. I consider all those as teachers of the _popular doctrine_, who seek to have credit and influence among the people, by resting our acceptance with God, not simply on _what Christ hath done_, but more or less on _the use we make of Him_, and the advance we make toward Him, or some secret desire, wish, or sigh to do so; or on something we feel or do concerning Him, by the assistance of some kind of grace or spirit; or, lastly, on something we employ Him to do, or suppose He is yet to do for us. In sum, all who would have us to be conscious of something else than the bare truth of the gospel; all who would have us to be conscious of some beginning of a change to the better; or some desire, however faint, toward such change, in order to our acceptance with God.” (Ibid. p. 300.)

Perhaps, the reader has had enough of the misty dogmas of Robert Sandeman. The foregoing extracts contain the kernel of his heresy. By the obedience and sufferings of Christ, a number of persons, the elect, are accepted or justified of God. The gospel declares this. It is the sinner’s privilege and duty to believe this general statement;—not to _believe on_ Christ as _his_ Saviour (for he has no authority to do that), but simply to become persuaded of the truthfulness of the gospel’s general declaration, that a select number are accepted of God, solely and entirely, because of the finished work of Christ. This persuasion, in the course of time, and in the case of the accepted persons, produces what Sandeman calls _repentance unto life_. For a season, they have “anxious fears of coming short of everlasting life.” Their love to the truth works “in the way of painful desire, attended with many fears.” At length, however, they attain to such a state, that their conscience testifies, they are “not destitute of love to that truth which the world hates;” and now “the Spirit of the truth gives His testimony, as a second witness, by shedding abroad in the heart such an abundant sense of the divine love, as perfects their love to the truth, and crowns it with the highest enjoyment it is capable of in this mortal state.”

This, in brief, was Sandeman’s way of salvation—a huge heresy tagged to the glorious truth, that man is accepted of God solely through the meritorious work and sufferings of Christ. This is not the place for its refutation. Suffice it to remark, that, in 1759, Ingham read Sandeman’s “Letters on Theron and Aspasio,” and also Glass’s “Testimony of the King of Martyrs;” and that this was the means of bringing upon Ingham’s societies the “horrid blast from the north,” so strongly deprecated by the Rev. William Romaine.

The Rev. John Glass, about the year 1728, had been expelled from the established Church of Scotland, and had formed a number of Churches conformable, in their institution and discipline, to what he apprehended to be the plan of the first Churches of Christianity. Sandeman was an elder in one of these Churches. The chief practices in which they differed from others were:—their weekly administration of the Lord’s Supper; their love feasts, of which every member was not only allowed, but required to partake, and which consisted in their dining together at each other’s houses in the interval between the morning and afternoon services; their kiss of charity, used on this occasion, at the admission of a new member, and at other times, when they deemed it to be necessary or proper; their weekly collection before the Lord’s Supper, for the support of the poor, and defraying other expenses; mutual exhortation; abstinence from blood and things strangled; washing each other’s feet, the precept concerning which, as well as other precepts, they understood literally; community of goods, so far as that every one was to consider all that he had in his possession and power as liable to the calls of the poor and the Church; and unlawfulness of laying up treasures on earth, by setting them apart for any distant future, or uncertain use; the allowing of public and private diversions so far as they were not connected with circumstances really sinful; and the employment of a plurality of elders, pastors, or bishops, in each Church, and the necessity of the presence of two elders in every act of discipline, but the administration of the Lord’s Supper. In the choice of these elders, want of learning, and engagements in trade, were not regarded as disqualifications for office, but a second marriage was. The elders were ordained by prayer and fasting, imposition of hands, and giving the right hand of fellowship. In their discipline, they were strict and severe, and thought themselves obliged to separate from the communion of all such religious societies as appeared to them not to profess the simple truth to be their only ground of hope, and who did not walk in obedience to it. In every Church transaction, also, they esteemed unanimity to be absolutely necessary.

Such were the Glassites or Sandemanians more than a hundred years ago. In an evil hour, after reading the publications of Glass and Sandeman, Ingham sent his fellow-helpers, Mr. Batty and Mr. Allen, _privately_ to Scotland, for the purpose of acquiring more distinct and detailed information respecting this Scottish sect. At Edinburgh, they were introduced to Sandeman; and at Dundee, to Glass; and returned to Yorkshire thoroughly converted to the Sandemanian theology and discipline. Warm debates took place in Ingham’s societies respecting the nature of a _true_ Church, and respecting their former views of religious experience. Many became jealous of the authority which Ingham exercised; but he steadfastly adhered to the validity of his commission as general overseer, and wished the dissatisfied to withdraw. Frequent attempts were made to reconcile the two contending parties: the Countess of Huntingdon wrote letters; Romaine paid a personal visit; and Whitefield prayed and wept; but all was ineffectual. Disputes without end arose; excommunications followed; and thus the great work over which Ingham had most religiously watched, was nearly wrecked. Out of upwards of eighty flourishing Churches, only thirteen remained under Ingham’s care. This was probably the severest trial of his life, and was one from the effects of which he never afterwards recovered.[115] It would be incorrect and uncharitable to assert, that, all who were excommunicated or seceded, ceased to be Christians. Dr. Stevens says, “many of them were merged in the Wesleyan or Dissenting bodies, especially in the class of Scotch Presbyterians called Daleites.”[116] Mr. Allen formed a number of them into a separate Church, and officiated as their pastor until his death, in 1804. The Messrs. Batty also continued to preach; and, in 1761, published, at Kendal, a Hymn Book of 136 pp., entitled, “A Collection of Hymns for the Use of those that seek, and those that have, Redemption in the Blood of Christ.” Many of the hymns are thorough doggerel. Some other of the seceding preachers also “remained useful men; and the disaster was much relieved by the consideration that Wesleyan Methodism took general possession of Yorkshire, and by the fact, that two Methodist orders were hardly necessary at the time of Ingham’s failure.”

Efforts were not wanting to conserve and perpetuate the work. In September, 1760, Lady Huntingdon and the Rev. William Romaine joined Ingham, at a general meeting of his societies, held at Wheatley, when the choice of Church officers was determined by lot. They also visited, in company, several of the brotherhoods in Yorkshire and Lancashire, Ingham and Romaine preaching alternately, almost every day. At Thinoaks, in Craven, where they remained several days, there was a large assemblage of people, and two elders were ordained. There, also, it was agreed to recommend to the different societies in the connexion to make collections every Sabbath; and the following circular was issued:—

“DEAR BRETHREN,—Being mindful of the words of the Apostle Paul, we have determined to recommend to our Societies to have voluntary collections on the first day of the week, to defray all expenses relative to the preachers, meetings, etc., etc. Farewell!”

Nothing more need be said of this unhappy schism, except quoting a sentence from Wesley’s sermon, preached at the laying of the foundation stone of City Road Chapel, in 1777. With an undoubted reference to Ingham, he remarked:—

“Nearly twenty years ago, immediately after solemn consultation on the subject, a clergyman, who had heard the whole, said, with great earnestness, ‘In the name of God, let nothing move you to recede from this resolution. God is with you for a truth; and so He will be, while you continue in the Church; but whenever the Methodists leave the Church, God will leave them.’ Lord, what is man! In a few months after, Mr. Ingham himself left the Church, and turned all the societies under his care into congregations of Independents. And what was the event? The same that he had foretold! They swiftly mouldered into nothing.”

Unlike his friend Wesley, Ingham made but little use of the printing-press. In 1748, he published a Hymn Book, of 96 pp., 12mo, with the title, “A Collection of Hymns for Societies. Leeds: Printed by James Lister, 1748.” The book, now extremely scarce, contains eighty-eight hymns; five of which are translations from the German, by John Wesley; fifteen are by Watts; five by Cennick; and three by Charles Wesley. How many Ingham himself contributed is not known. The following serves as a sort of Preface:—

“In singing, two things ought to be regarded. The one is to sing in outward harmony, keeping the tune; and, if we do not understand it, ’tis better to be silent and hear others, or to sing low and after others, that we may not make a discord, which is disagreeable, and causes confusion; and, in general, it is not well to sing so very high and loud. But the other and more material thing to be regarded is, seriously to mind what we are about,—to be present with our thoughts,—to meditate upon the matter; and, above all, to sing with grace in the heart to the Lord. This makes singing sweet and heavenly; and, without this, our singing can neither be edifying to ourselves nor to others.”

Ingham’s only other publication was a small volume, entitled, “A Discourse on the Faith and Hope of the Gospel. Leedes: Printed for the Author, by Griffith Wright, 1763.” 12mo, 207 pp.

This, though a small, was an important book, for it contained the views of Ingham, on the chief doctrines of the Christian religion, immediately after he had read the works of Glass and Sandeman. There can be no question, that, he substantially embraced the dogmas which they had so boldly propounded. The following extracts are confirmative of this. The reader will excuse the length of them, on the ground, that they exhibit the principal articles of Ingham’s creed towards the close of life. The book is pervaded by a fine Christian spirit; and, here and there, almost waxes eloquent.

“Every true and real minister of Jesus Christ hath a divine commission, or is sent of God.” (Preface.)

“I believe, that the whole counsel of God to the Church is faithfully recorded in the holy Scriptures.” (Ibid.)

“I believe no servant of Christ hath now any new revelation to deliver; but, I also believe, that no man can clearly comprehend or truly understand the holy Scriptures without the illumination of the Holy Ghost. Yet, the Holy Ghost neither revealeth, teacheth, impresseth, or applieth anything to any person now, but what is either expressly written, or is agreeable to the analogy of faith delivered, in the holy Scriptures.” (Ibid.)

“It is my opinion, that, both the doctrine and also the very words of Scripture, in the languages wherein they were originally written, were inspired by the Holy Ghost. The translation of the Holy Scriptures into the modern tongues hath been a great blessing, and of very great use to the cause of Christianity. Yet, men of learning, who have studied the originals, know that some places are falsely translated, and others weakly and lamely. It would be well worth the labour of all the learned men in every nation to conspire together to publish an accurate translation.” (p. 5.)

“To believe a thing meaneth to assent to, and credit it as true. To believe _in_ a thing meaneth to confide or trust in it, to rely or depend on it.” (p. 6.)

“The faith of the Gospel is the believing of God’s testimony concerning Christ and His righteousness, and believing in Jesus Christ and His most perfect and Divine righteousness, as the only sure ground of the hope of eternal life.” (p. 9.)

“Sinners are neither justified for their own believing, nor their own obeying, nor for both together; neither for the truth or sincerity of their believing, or any act of faith, nor anything they have done, can do, or ever will do. Neither are they justified for anything wherein they differ from others, or excel others, nor for anything done or wrought in them, or received by them; for the whole and sole cause of the justification of sinners is the active and passive obedience of Jesus Christ, called the righteousness of God, ‘which is unto all and upon all them that that believe.’” (p. 13.)

“This work of Christ,—His most perfect and divine righteousness,—His obedience in all things, and even unto death, is the whole and sole cause of the salvation of sinners. There needeth no other requisite, neither less nor more, neither little nor great. This alone is complete and all-sufficient.” (p. 35.)

“Yet, the generality of men lay the greatest stress upon something else. And even those who lay some stress upon it more or less connect something else with it, whereon they also lay some stress, more or less. So that they do not believe that God is well and fully pleased with the work of Christ, as alone sufficient for salvation without anything else at all; but that God is placable, or willing to come to terms with them, upon condition that they themselves first perform those other things which they think necessary, either in whole or in part, as preliminaries to make peace with God.” (p. 39.)

“If any should object, and say, that the Lord Jesus and the apostles connected repentance with faith and remission of sins, I allow it. Repentance and faith are duties required by the gospel, because God commandeth all men everywhere to repent and believe the gospel. It is man’s duty to do whatever God commandeth.” (p. 40.)

“Repentance to life is the change made upon the mind by the gospel, when a man is turned from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto God. His understanding being enlightened, he ceases to work for acceptance; he turns to God, believing that He is well pleased in His beloved Son. This repentance, as well as faith, is the gift of God. And they are both given at the same time.” (p. 40.)

“Some modern divines have defined faith to be _a confidence that Christ loved me and gave Himself for me_; but this is not the faith of the gospel, though it hath passed current for it with many for a long time. It must indeed be granted that, if a person can say that Christ hath loved him and given Himself for him, upon as good ground as the Apostle Paul said it of himself, he is a true believer. Yet it is presumed that many believe the gospel and will be saved, who neither can, in truth, nor dare say this.” (p. 42.)

“No one hath the assurance of his eternal salvation upon his first believing the gospel, or can have it, till his faith hath wrought some time, more or less, by love. No man can be assured that he shall be eternally saved without any possibility of falling away, but by the sealing, witness, or testimony of the Holy Ghost. But that no one is sealed by the Spirit upon his first believing the gospel is proved by Ephesians i. 13.” (p. 43.)

“Those, who have the faith of the gospel, have not obtained it by their own labour, or by any acts exerted by their own minds; but it hath been, freely given to them from above, by Him who of His own will begetteth His people with the word of truth. So that it is as easy to believe in the gospel, when Christ is revealed to any person, as it is to see or hear, when a man hath eyes and ears.” (p. 60.)

“The faith of the gospel is a working faith. Justification and sanctification are inseparably connected together.” (p. 90.)

“All true believers are sanctified, but they are not equally sanctified; for there are children, young men, and fathers in Christ. They are sanctified in all the faculties of their souls, but not completely sanctified as yet in any one of them.” (p. 138.)

“Some argue, _that God, in the word of the gospel, maketh an offer of Christ and His righteousness, as a free gift, to all indefinitely who hear the gospel; and also promiseth remission of sins and eternal life; and, further, that God’s word is a sufficient warrant to every one to lay claim to the gift, and that Faith is a receiving of the gift; but then it must be an appropriating and applying faith. For no man is possessed of a gift till he receives it; but, in receiving it, he obtains a special interest in it, which he had not before._ That God, by the word of the gospel, maketh known to all indefinitely who hear it, that He is well pleased in His beloved Son, and that He giveth His Son and remission of sins and eternal life to all who unfeignedly believe the gospel with understanding, is as surely true as God’s word is true. And, that no man is possessed of a gift till he receives it, and that in receiving it he obtains a special interest in it, is also true. It is also granted that no man hath Christ, or a special interest in Him, but he that receiveth Him. But, then, doth any man receive Christ before he believeth the gospel? Coming to Christ, receiving or embracing Him, looking to Him, trusting or confiding in, relying or depending upon Him and His divine righteousness, belong to faith, and always accompany it; although they may be deemed immediate consequent effects of it” (p. 142.)

“I cannot approve the doctrine, which some teach, that a man may become perfect at once, or assured of his salvation, by putting forth some sort of an act of faith.” (p. 155.) “God generally worketh gradually both in nature and in grace.” (p. 156.)

“Believers, by keeping the Father’s commandment to believe on the name of Jesus Christ; and by obeying the new commandment, not in word, but in works,—attain the testimony of their own heart and conscience, that they are of the truth. Herein, also, they have the sure testimony of the word of God, whereby they are to try and judge themselves. And the Holy Ghost, as the Comforter, will be given to them, by whose testimony they will know and be satisfied that they are the children of God.” (p. 171.)

“Be it observed that I have limited no time, how long it is, or how long it must be, before any man is sealed by the Holy Ghost after he believeth the gospel. This dependeth upon the good pleasure of Almighty God.” (p. 175.)

“Those writers and preachers, who maintain that the assurance of salvation cometh by a direct act of faith, or by the appropriating act of faith, or by any other sort of an act of faith, are mistaken; for it cometh by no act of faith, but by the testimony of a believer’s own conscience, and by the testimony of the word and Spirit of God.” (p. 179.)

“Some writers and preachers lay down so many steps and stages of conviction, and speak of so many different sorts of faith that they greatly perplex the minds of serious people. But this is not the worst of it. Such doctrine hath a tendency to teach people to establish their own righteousness, and to turn away their minds from the atonement made by the blood of Christ; for, when they hear such doctrine, they are very apt to examine whether they have gone through such exercises of soul, and whether they have put forth such acts of faith; and, if they think that they have not, they are perplexed and distressed to no purpose; but, if they think that they have, they are ready to build upon such things, which may be nothing but their own workings and fancies, and so get into a good conceit of themselves to their own loss and damage.” (p. 181.)

“True believers are too apt to live by other things than by Christ alone. It is the duty of every believer to keep the faith, and constantly to live by believing in Christ. This is a lesson not soon or easily learned. To keep the faith, in opposition to the natural propensity which is in us all, to live by our own righteousness, or something of our own, is the principal part of the Christian warfare. It is like the pendulum in a clock, which moves all the wheels. If the pendulum stops, then the whole clock stands. All our strength to obey flows from believing in Christ.” (p. 185.)

“All the heavenly frames, sweet sensations, manifestations of God’s love, all the joys and comforts, are all and each of them valuable blessings, for which God’s people should be thankful; but they should not live by them, but by Christ. All the works and duties of believers, which are done in faith and love, which is in Christ Jesus, are pleasing to God; all the doctrines revealed in the book of God ought to be regarded and believed; the promises, threatenings, and precepts of the word of God should be used as the Lord Jesus used them when He was on earth; all the ordinances and means of grace should be conscientiously observed; but believers are not to make a Christ of any of these things, nor to live by them, but by Christ Himself.” (p. 188.)

These extracts are long, but they serve to exhibit Ingham’s views of the way of a sinner’s salvation. Substantially, they are the same as Sandeman’s, and were doubtless derived from him. One cannot but regret that Ingham suffered himself to be led astray by the hazy dogmatisms of the new Scottish sect, instead of adhering to the Scriptural views of his friend Wesley.[117] Of his sincerity there cannot be a doubt; but, in trying to make the salvation of a sinner more simple, he made it vastly more dubious and difficult. How different were these misty speculations to the plain, straightforward teachings of the Methodists! Their adoption by the truly converted and godly societies, raised up by Ingham and his friends, was a fatal error, and renders it no matter of regret, that, societies espousing and propagating such principles gradually dwindled, and nearly became extinct.

Before taking our leave of Ingham’s book, a few lines may be added concerning its general merits, apart from its doctrinal heresies; and these shall be given as an extract from a review, written by Samuel Drew, the able and honest editor of the _Imperial Magazine_, for 1823. After adverting to Ingham’s doctrinal peculiarities, Mr. Drew proceeds:—

“Notwithstanding these blemishes, Mr. Ingham’s treatise contains innumerable excellencies, fully entitling it to the patronage which has carried it through four editions. Though Faith and Hope form its distinguishing characteristics, the practical part of religion is not forgotten. This the author enforces by a variety of motives, and warns his readers against the rock of Antinomianism on which thousands have struck to rise no more. The language is simple and unadorned; it discovers spirit without acrimony, and never degenerates into reproaches when he reprehends the sentiments of others. On all occasions, he seems far more intent upon what he says, than upon the manner in which it is said, invariably paying a greater regard to truth, than to any fame which might be purchased, by disregarding this jewel, while hunting after the flowers of diction.”

Ingham’s active and useful work was now nearly ended. In 1762, on the re-settlement of affairs, he was chosen elder of the Church at Tadcaster, which office, in addition to that of general overseer, he sustained to the end of life; but the labours of himself and his coadjutors resulted in small success. On July 23rd, 1766, Wesley wrote:—

“I went to Tadcaster. Here Mr. Ingham had once a far larger society than ours; but it has now shrunk into nothing; ours, meantime, is continually increasing.”

The state of his societies greatly affected poor Ingham’s mind. The well-informed author of the “Life and Times of the Countess of Huntingdon,” remarks, “The almost total dispersion of the Yorkshire Churches, caused by the introduction of the Sandemanian principles, had a sad effect on Mr. Ingham’s mind. He was liable to sudden transitions from the highest flow of spirits to the utmost depression, and the peculiar character of his temperament was an extreme accessibility to sudden attacks of melancholy.” The thing which he had “greatly feared had come upon him.” He was deserted by his spiritual children, and the thought distressed him. “I am lost! I am lost! was his despairing cry.” It is true, that, there were gleams of comfort. Lady Huntingdon’s letters were soothing to his anguished spirit. “A thousand and a thousand times,” he tells her, “do I bless and praise my God, for the words of comfort and consolation which your ladyship’s letters conveyed to my mournful heart, dismayed and overwhelmed as it was by the pressure of my calamities. ‘Righteous art Thou, O Lord, and just are Thy judgments.’”

This was but the beginning of his sorrows. One of his beloved and faithful friends was the laborious and devoted Grimshaw. In the early part of the year 1763, Haworth was visited with a malignant putrid fever, and, among its many victims, Grimshaw was one. At great risk, Ingham repeatedly visited the Christian veteran in his fatal illness; and, afterwards, gave to Lady Huntingdon, the following account of his several interviews:—

“From the moment he was seized with the fever, he felt the sentence of death in himself. When I first saw him, he said, ‘My last enemy is come! the signs of death are upon me, but I am not afraid. No! No! Blessed be God, my hope is sure, and I am in His hands.’ When I was pouring out my soul in prayer to the Lord, I mentioned the further prolongation of his life, that he might have more opportunities of being useful; and when I had concluded, he said, ‘My dear brother Ingham, if the Lord should raise me up, I think I could do more for His glory than I have hitherto done. Alas! what have my wretched services been? and I have now need to cry, at the close of my unprofitable course—_God be merciful to me a sinner!_’ At my next visit, I found him much worse, and evidently sinking. I mentioned having received a letter from your ladyship, and delivered your message. He seemed much affected, but, after a few moments, revived a little. When I had prayed with him, he said, ‘I harbour no desire of life,—my time is come,—and I am entirely resigned to God.’ Then, lifting up his hands and eyes to heaven, he added, ‘Thy will be done!’ At another time, he said, laying his hand upon his breast, ‘I am quite exhausted, but I shall soon be at home for ever with the Lord—a poor miserable sinner redeemed by His blood.’ Mr. Venn having arrived, I shortly after took my leave, but never after saw my dear brother Grimshaw alive.”

Not long after this, Ingham had to mourn the death of another and dearer friend. After twenty-seven years of connubial happiness, his noble and Christian wife was taken from him. During her fatal sickness,

“She continued to exercise those Christian graces for which she had been long distinguished. Of herself and her efforts, her view was ever humble, and every reference to her usefulness she met with grateful acknowledgment of the sovereignty of that grace, that made her the instrument of good to others. Her end, though painful, was triumphant. She welcomed the hour—she longed to receive the prize of her high calling. ‘Thanks be to God! thanks be to God!’ she exclaimed, ‘The moment’s come! the day is dawning!’ and thus, in holy ecstasy, she winged her way to glory.” “When she had no longer strength to speak to me,” (wrote Ingham), “she looked most sweetly at me and smiled. On the Tuesday before she died, when she had opened her heart to me, and declared the ground of her hope, her eyes sparkled with divine joy, her countenance shone, her cheeks were ruddy: I never saw her look so sweet and lively in my life. All about her were affected; no one could refrain from tears, and yet it was a delight to be with her.”

Lady Margaret Ingham died on the 30th of April, 1768, in the sixty-eighth year of her age.

Her sorrowing partner did not long survive. He, also, four years afterwards, in 1772, passed away to that “rest which remains to the people of God,” leaving behind him a son, who, for a time at least, united himself with Wesley’s societies, and officiated as a local preacher.[118]

“In person, Ingham is said to have been extremely handsome—‘too handsome for a man’—and the habitual expression of his countenance was most prepossessing. He was a gentleman; temperate, and irreproachable in his morals; as a public speaker, animated and agreeable rather than eloquent; studious of the good conversation of his people, and delicately fearful of reproach to the cause of Christ.”[119]

His societies, once so flourishing, gradually dwindled. In 1813, when they became united to the Daleites, or Scotch Independents, they were thirteen in number, assembling in the following places—Wheatley, 56 members; Winewall, 41; Kendal, 27; Nottingham, 25; Salterforth, 21; Bulwel, 17; Tadcaster, 14; Howden, 11; Wibsey, 10; Leeds, 9; Rothwell, 8; Haslingden, 8; Todmorden, 5. So far as has been ascertained, these, at the present moment, are reduced to six,—Winewall, (the largest and most flourishing,) Wheatley, Todmorden, Kendal, Tadcaster, and Leeds.[120]

REV. JOHN GAMBOLD, M.A., THE MORAVIAN BISHOP.

The whole of the Oxford Methodists intended to devote their lives to the service of the Church of England. This, at Oxford, was their highest wish and holiest ambition. The future was hidden from them,—fortunately so. Without this, their brotherhood would not have lasted for a single week; and many of the results of their godly intercourse would never have been realized. How different from the course of Clayton was that of Ingham; and how different again was that of Gambold from that of Whitefield and the Wesley brothers; and again, how different was that of Hervey and Broughton from any of the others! Men would have ordered it otherwise; but who will say that the way of Providence was not infinitely better? There may be much in the lives of men that is mysterious and perplexing; but of all the sincerely pious it may be confidently asserted,—“A man’s heart deviseth his ways, but the Lord directeth his steps.” The subject of the following memoir is no exception.

John Gambold was born April 10th, 1711, at Puncheston, in Pembrokeshire, South Wales. His father, a clergyman of the Church of England, lived an ornament to his profession, and was greatly respected, for his unaffected piety and purity of manners. The children of this devout minister were educated with the utmost care and attention, and no pains were spared to instil into their minds the principles and precepts of the Christian religion.

Nothing is known of the early life of young Gambold, except, that he was greatly benefited by his father’s instructions; and, at the early age of fifteen, went to the University of Oxford, where he entered as servitor in Christ Church College, and soon became eminent for his diligent devotion to reading and study. He was naturally of a vivacious and active spirit; and, besides his attention to his collegiate exercises, employed himself in an extensive perusal of the most approved dramatists and poets in the English language.[121]

Two years after he went to Oxford, his father died; and this event, together with the exhortations and counsels he received from the dying minister in his last moments, so affected him, that he at once abandoned poetry and plays, lost his liveliness of disposition, sunk into a state of melancholy, and made the salvation of his soul the chief business of life. Painful experience was the inspirer of a short poem of his, afterwards published in his collected works:—

“In nature’s ebbs, which lay the soul in chains, Beneath weak nerves and ill-sufficing veins, Who can support bare being, unendow’d With gust voluptuous, or reflection proud? No more bright images the brain commands,— No great design the glowing heart expands,— No longer shines the animated face,— Motion and speech forget their conscious grace. How can the brave, the witty, and the gay Survive, when mirth, wit, courage die away? None but the Christian’s all-comprising power Subdues each chance, and lives through every hour: Watchful, he suffers all, and feels within All smart proportion’d to some root of sin; He strikes each error with his Maker’s rod, And, by self-knowledge, penetrates to God.”

Gambold entered Christ Church College in the same year that Charles Wesley did, the latter being more than two years older than the former. John Wesley also was a member of the same college, and twelve months before, on September 19, 1725, had been ordained a deacon. In 1729, the society of Oxford Methodists was formed by Charles Wesley; and, a year afterwards, Gambold, still only in his teens, became one of them. He shall narrate his own story, written when Wesley was in Georgia. The account is long; but, containing as it does a full description of the rise and peculiarities of the “Holy Club,” and a faithful delineation of the character and influence of their confessed “curator,” it is too important to be omitted. Gambold writes:—

“Mr. Wesley, late of Lincoln College, has been the instrument of so much good to me, that, I shall never forget him. Could I remember him as I ought, it would have very near the same effect as if he was still present; for a conversation so unreserved as was his, so zealous in engaging his friends to every instance of Christian piety, has left nothing now to be said, nothing but what occurs to us as often as we are disposed to remember him impartially.

“About the middle of March, 1730, I became acquainted with Mr. Charles Wesley, of Christ Church. I was just then come up from the country, and had made a resolution to find out some pious persons of religion to keep company with, or else to instil something of it into those I knew already. I had been, for two years before, in deep melancholy: so God was pleased to order it, to disappoint and break a proud spirit, and to embitter the world to me; as I was inclining to relish its vanities. During this time, I had no friend to whom I could open my mind, to any purpose. No man did care for my soul; or none, at least, understood its paths. They, that were at ease, could not guess what my sorrow was for. The learned endeavoured to give me right notions, and the friendly to divert me. But I had a weight upon my heart, which only prayer could in some degree remove. I prepared myself to make trial of the value and comfort of society, being a little recovered. One day, an old acquaintance entertained me with some reflections on the whimsical Mr. Wesley, his preciseness and pious extravagancies. Though I had lived with him four years in the same college, yet, so unable was I to take notice of anything that passed, that I knew nothing of his character; but, upon hearing this, I suspected he might be a good Christian. I therefore went to his room, and, without any ceremony, desired the benefit of his conversation. I had so large a share of it henceforth, that hardly a day passed, while I was at college, but we were together once, if not oftener.

“After some time, he introduced me to his brother John, of Lincoln College. ‘For,’ said he, ‘he is somewhat older than I, and can resolve your doubts better.’ This, as I found afterwards, was a thing which he was deeply sensible of; for I never observed any person have a more real deference for another, than he constantly had for his brother. Indeed, he followed his brother entirely. Could I describe one of them, I should describe both. And therefore I shall say no more of Charles, but that he was a man made for friendship; who, by his cheerfulness and vivacity, would refresh his friend’s heart; with attentive consideration, would enter into and settle all his concerns; so far as he was able, would do anything for him, great or small; and, by a habit of openness and freedom, leave no room for misunderstanding.

“The Wesleys were already talked of for some religious practices, which were first occasioned by Mr. Morgan, of Christ Church. From these combined friends, began a little society; for several others, from time to time, fell in; most of them only to be improved by their serious and useful discourse; and some few espousing all their resolutions and their whole way of life.

“Mr. John Wesley was always the chief manager, for which he was very fit; for he not only had more learning and experience than the rest, but he was blest with such activity as to be always gaining ground, and such steadiness that he lost none. What proposals he made to any was sure to charm them, because he was so much in earnest; nor could they afterwards slight them, because they saw him always the same. What supported this uniform vigour, was the care he took to consider well of every affair before he engaged in it, making all his decisions in the fear of God, without passion, humour, or self-confidence: for, though he had naturally a very clear apprehension, yet, his exact prudence depended more on humanity and singleness of heart. To this I may add, that he had, I think, something of authority in his countenance; though, as he did not want address, he could soften his manner, and point it as occasion required. Yet, he never assumed anything to himself above his companions. Any of them might speak their mind, and their words were as strictly regarded by him as his were by them.

“It was their custom to meet most evenings, either at his chamber or one of the others, where, after some prayers, (the chief subject of which was charity,) they ate their supper together, and he read some book. But the chief business was to review what each had done that day, in pursuance of their common design, and to consult what steps were to be taken the next.

“Their undertaking included these several particulars:—to converse with young students; to visit the prisons; to instruct some poor families; and to take care of a school, and a parish workhouse.

“They took great pains with the younger members of the University, to rescue them from bad company, and encourage them in a sober, studious life. If they had some interest with any such, they would get them to breakfast; and, over a dish of tea, endeavour to fasten some good hint upon them. They would bring them acquainted with other well disposed young men. They would help them in those parts of learning which they stuck at. They would close with their best sentiments, drive on their convictions, give them rules of piety, when they would receive them, and watch over them with great tenderness.

“Some or other of them went to the Castle every day; and another most commonly to Bocardo. Whoever came to the Castle was to read in the chapel to as many prisoners as would attend, and to talk to the man or men whom he had taken particularly in charge. Before reading, he asked: Whether they had prayers yesterday? (For some serious men among the prisoners read family prayers with the rest.) Whether they had read over again what was read last, and what they remembered of it? Then he went over the heads of it to them; and afterwards went on in the same book for a quarter of an hour. The books they used were the ‘Christian Monitor,’ the ‘Country Parson’s Advice to his Parishioners,’ and such-like. When he had done, he summed up the several particulars that had been insisted on, enforced the advice given, and reduced it at last to two or three sentences, which they might easily remember. Then he took his man aside, and asked him, Whether he was in the chapel yesterday? and other questions concerning his care to serve God, and learn his duty.

“When a new prisoner came, their conversation with him, for four or five times, was particularly close and searching. Whether he bore no malice towards those that did prosecute him, or any others? The first time, after professions of good-will, they only inquired of his circumstances in the world. Such questions imported friendship, and engaged the man to open his heart. Afterwards, they entered upon such enquiries as most concern a prisoner. Whether he submitted to this disposal of Providence? Whether he repented of his past life? Last of all, they asked him, Whether he constantly used private prayer, and whether he had ever communicated? Thus, most or all of the prisoners were spoken to in their turns. But, if any one was either under sentence of death, or appeared to have some intentions of a new life, they came every day to his assistance; and partook in the conflict and suspense of those who should now be found able, or not able, to lay hold on salvation. In order to release those who were confined for small debts, and were bettered by their affliction, and likewise to purchase books, physic, and other necessaries,—they raised a small fund, to which many of their acquaintance contributed quarterly. They had prayers at the Castle most Wednesdays and Fridays, a sermon on Sundays, and the Sacrament once a month.

“When they undertook any poor family, they saw them, at least, once a week; sometimes gave them money; admonished them of their vices; read to them, and examined their children.

“The school was, I think, of Mr. Wesley’s own setting up. At all events, he paid the mistress, and clothed some, if not all, of the children. When they went thither, they enquired how each child behaved; saw their work (for some could knit and spin); heard them read; heard them their prayers and catechism; and explained part of it.

“In the same manner, they taught the children in the workhouse; and read to the old people as they did to the prisoners.

“Though some practices of Mr. Wesley and his friends were much blamed,—as their fasting on Wednesday and Friday, after the custom of the Primitive Church,—their coming on those Sundays, when there was no sacrament in their own colleges, to receive it at Christ Church,—yet nothing was so much disliked as these charitable employments. They seldom took any notice of the accusations brought against them; but, if they made any reply, it was commonly such a plain and simple one, as if there was nothing more in the case, but that they had heard such doctrines of their Saviour, and believed and done accordingly,—‘Shall we be the more happy in another life, the more virtuous we are in this? Are we the more virtuous, the more intensely we love God and man? Is love, as all habits, the more intense, the more we exercise it? Is either helping, or trying to help man, for God’s sake, an exercise of love to God or man? Particularly, Is the feeding the hungry, the giving drink to the thirsty, the clothing the naked, the visiting sick persons, or prisoners, an exercise of love to God or man? Is the endeavouring to teach the ignorant, to admonish sinners, to encourage the good, to comfort the afflicted, to confirm the wavering, and to reconcile enemies, an exercise of love to God or man? Shall we be the more happy in another life, if we do the former of these things, and try to do the latter? Or if we do not the one, nor try to do the other?”

In the above extracts, the reader has the practices which principally distinguished the Oxford Methodists from their fellows. The account is full of interest, and of great importance, being written by one of the members of this godly brotherhood, and immediately after that brotherhood was broken up. The remainder of Gambold’s narrative is chiefly a defence and eulogy of Wesley, their “Curator;” and only such parts of it will be given as affect the whole of these earnest students. Gambold continues:—

“What I would chiefly remark upon, is the manner in which Mr. Wesley directed his friends.

“Because he required such a regulation of our studies, as might devote them all to God, he has been cried out upon as one that discouraged learning. Far from that;—the first thing he struck at in young men, was that indolence which would not submit to close thinking. Nor was he against reading much, especially at first; because then the mind ought to fill itself with materials, and try every thing that looks bright and perfect.

“He earnestly recommended to them a method and order in all their actions. After their morning devotions (which were at a fixed and early hour, from five to six being the time, morning as well as evening), he advised them to determine with themselves what they were to do all the parts of the day. By such foresight, they would, at every hour’s end, not be in doubt how to dispose of themselves; and, by bringing themselves under the necessity of such a plan, they might correct the impotence of a mind that had been used to live by humour and chance, and prepare it by degrees to bear the other restraints of a holy life.

“The next thing was to put them upon keeping the fasts, visiting poor people, and coming to the weekly Sacrament: not only to subdue the body, increase charity, and obtain Divine grace; but (as he expressed it) to cut off their retreat to the world. He judged, that, if they did these things, men would cast out their name as evil, and, by the impossibility of keeping fair any longer with the world, oblige them to take their whole refuge in Christianity. But those, whose resolutions he thought would not bear this test, he left to gather strength by their secret exercises.

“It was his earnest care to introduce them to the treasures of wisdom and hope in the Holy Scriptures: to teach them not only to endure that book, but to form themselves by it, and to fly to it as the great antidote against the darkness of this world. For some years past, he and his friends read the New Testament together at evening. After every portion of it, having heard the conjectures the rest had to offer, he made his observations on the phrase, design, and difficult places. One or two wrote these down from his mouth.

“He laid much stress upon self-examination. He taught them (besides what occurs in his Collection of Prayers) to take account of their actions in a very exact manner, by writing a constant diary. In this, they noted down in cipher, once if not oftener in the day, what chiefly their employments had been in the several parts of it, and how they had performed each. Mr. Wesley had these records of his life by him for many years past. And some I have known, who, to seal their convictions and make their repentance more solemn, would write down such reflections upon themselves as the anguish of their soul at that time suggested, adding any spiritual maxim which some experience of their own had confirmed to them.

“Then, to keep in their minds an awful sense of God’s presence, with a constant dependence on His help, he advised them to ejaculatory prayers. They had a book of Ejaculations relating to the chief virtues, and, lying by them as they stood at their studies, they at intervals snatched a short petition out of it. But at last, instead of that variety, they contented themselves with the following aspirations (containing acts of faith, hope, love, and self-resignation at the end of every hour)—‘Consider and hear me,’ etc.

“The last means he recommended was meditation. Their usual time for this was the hour next before dinner.

“After this, he committed them to God. What remained for him to do, was to encourage them in the discomforts and temptations they might feel, and to guard them against all spiritual delusions. In this spiritual care of his acquaintance, Mr. Wesley persisted amidst all discouragements. He overlooked not only one’s absurd or disagreeable qualities, but even his coldness and neglect of him, if he thought it might be conquered. He helped one in things out of religion, that he might be more welcome to help him in that. His knowledge of the world, and his insight into physic, were often of use to us.

“If any one could have provoked him, I should; for I was slow in coming into his measures, and very remiss in doing my part. I frequently contradicted his assertions; or, which is much the same, distinguished upon them. I hardly ever submitted to his advice at the time he gave it, though I relented afterwards. One time he was in fear, that, I had taken up notions that were not safe, and pursued my spiritual improvement in an erroneous, because inactive, way. So he came over and stayed with me near a week. He accosted me with the utmost softness, condoled with me the incumbrances of my constitution, heard all I had to say, endeavoured to pick out my meaning, and yielded to me as far as he could. I never saw more humility in him than at this time. It was enough to cool the warmest imaginations that swell an overweening heart. It was, indeed, his custom to humble himself most before the proud,—not to reproach them; but, in a way of secret intercession, to procure their pardon.

“He had not only friends in Oxford to assist, but a great many correspondents. He set apart one day at least in the week (and he was no slow composer) for writing letters; in which, without levity or affectation, but with plainness and fervour, he gave his advice in particular cases, and vindicated the strict original sense of the Gospel precepts.”[122]

This long account does something more than give a general idea of the Oxford Methodists and of their distinguished leader. It exhibits the course of life adopted by Gambold in his twentieth year. Like the rest of his youthful friends, he became an earnest religionist; but he was not happy. “He gave way to desponding thoughts; neglected his person and apparel; confined himself as much as possible to his room; and applied, in search of information and comfort, to the works of such authors as he supposed could satisfy his inquiries, namely, the fathers of the first ages of the Christian Church. Of these, the most abstruse were his greatest favourites, and particularly those which are called mystics. Being well versed in the Greek language, he was much pleased with that energy of expression in which it excels. The deep speculations of these ancient writers, their beautiful allusions, the richness of style with which they clothed their ideas, and the strain of piety running through the whole, suited his taste, and so far influenced his understanding, that he adopted their sentiments, went the same lengths with them in the scenes of imagination, and, by degrees, became so much like one of them, that his cast of mind bore a nearer resemblance to that which was peculiar in them, than to any that appeared among the modern. By a close attention to writers of this stamp, he contracted such a turn of mind, and imbibed such an exalted notion of internal purity, that he could not be satisfied with himself, unless he became such a refined being as those philosophical Christians portrayed. This being the state to which his aim was directed, he spared no pains to model himself according to the idea which he had formed of it. His exertions were abortive. Disappointment occasioned great concern;” and it was not until after years of laborious endeavour to form and establish a righteousness of his own, that he was led to submit to “the righteousness of God, by faith of Jesus Christ.”

In September, 1733, he was ordained, by Dr. Potter, Bishop of Oxford; and, as soon as he was capable of holding a living, was instituted to that of Stanton-Harcourt. In this sequestered village, where his parochial duties were not numerous, he had more leisure than was desirable to pursue his philosophical inquiries. He loved retirement, and seldom went abroad. But whenever he could prevail upon himself to visit any of his friends, and, among the rest, Lord Harcourt, he was received with much respect. His abilities, both natural and acquired, were great, but his unfeigned humility was so apparent to every one with whom he conversed, that, his superior powers excited no dislike in any. Indeed, his whole conduct was so inoffensive, that he very rarely, if ever, made himself an enemy. Still, his philosophical and platonic kind of religion failed to make him happy, and was of little use to his rustic parishioners. Four years were spent,—almost wasted,—in those high flights of imagination, deep speculation, intense reflection, and metaphysical reasoning, to which his natural disposition inclined him.

Meanwhile, his friendship with the Wesleys was continued. Charles returned from Georgia in the month of December, 1736; and, in the following February, speaks of meeting his “good friend Mr. Gambold,” at Oxford, who was “right glad to see” him. In fact, at this period and more or less for at least a year and a half afterwards, Kezziah Wesley, the youngest surviving sister of John and Charles, was domiciled with Gambold and his sister (who kept his house,) at Stanton-Harcourt. Poor Kezziah, from childhood, had been delicate, and her health had not been bettered by her residence at Lincoln, where, at nineteen years of age, she became a teacher in a boarding-school, and was painfully in want of both clothes and money. Her life was a wandering one. For a time, she lived in the house of the Vicar of Bexley, the Rev. Mr. Piers, and, afterwards, she resided with an aunt at Islington. It was not long that she needed the kindness of her friends, for, at the age of thirty-one, nearly a year and a half before the decease of her Christian mother, she peacefully expired, on the 9th of March, 1741.[123]

John Wesley landed in England on February 1, 1738; and, a week afterwards, met with Peter Böhler, just arrived from Germany. Within a fortnight, the two Wesleys, accompanied by Böhler, set out for Oxford, whence all the first brotherhood of Oxford Methodists were now dispersed. The elder Wesley writes:—

“I found not one of those who had formerly joined with me; and only three gentlemen who trod in their steps, building up one another in the faith.”

The nearest to Oxford was Gambold; and, accordingly, on February 18th, Wesley says:—

“We went to Stanton-Harcourt, to Mr. Gambold, and found my old friend recovered from his mystic delusion, and convinced that St. Paul was a better writer than either Tauler or Jacob Behmen.”

Gambold was already returning to gospel simplicity; and his acquaintance with Böhler rendered him service of the highest importance. Böhler held meetings in Oxford, attended both by members of the university and citizens. He delivered discourses in Latin, and Gambold interpreted them for the benefit of those of his audiences who were unfamiliar with that language. This friendship with the newly arrived German, proved the means, not only of the conversion of the two Wesleys, but, ultimately of Gambold also.

“After many struggles and conflicting thoughts, arising from repeated attempts to combine philosophy with the simplicity of the gospel; he, at length, by the grace of God, yielded to the power of the latter. He saw and lamented his natural depravity and consequent alienation from God, and also the insufficiency of his best works to merit heaven. He rejoiced in the sufficiency of the atonement of Jesus to sanctify and justify every true believer in Him. His former melancholy was dissipated; his spirit was made joyful in God his Saviour; and he became, in the fullest sense of the term, a new man.”[124]

The following letters will show the change which took place in Gambold’s views and feelings. The first was addressed to Wesley, and has never before been published. As will be seen, it was written three days before Wesley’s return from Georgia, and, consequently, before Wesley and Gambold became acquainted with Böhler. It is given here without abridgment, and verbatim.

“_January 27, 1737-8._

“DEAR SIR,—The point you mention has long been a difficulty to me; of which I could find no end, but that general solution of all doubt, and cure of all anxieties, resignation to eternal Providence. Can I offer a more particular solution now? No; but I will let you see, that I, and doubtless many more, labour under the same perplexity; which will incline one to believe, that, as God has a fire of grace to cleanse us from our common pollutions, so he has also a light in reserve, (and the needs of so many strongly call for it,) that would give a comfortable turn to our common speculations.

“O, what is regeneration? And what doth baptism? How shall we reconcile faith and fact? Is Christianity become effete, and sunk again into the bosom of nature? Was the short triumph of it over flesh and blood designed as the standing enjoyment, or standing humiliation of succeeding ages? Was the Church to condemn the world as God does, in order to meet and embrace it at last?

“What advantage would a deist make of the present appearance of things? He would say, that, when the gospel, by setting up some particular institutions, made a separation from natural religion, it was only an economical enmity;—the new dispensation did operate upon the old, as plaisters do upon the body, which, when they have spent their strength in expelling its diseases, drop off, and leave it sound, clean, and beautiful. That, the distance it stood in from it, was only a means to correct the prejudices, and manage the affections of mankind; and, as these ends were served, Christianity and natural religion were to come closer. That, the former was to lose its name in the latter, when its whole light was kindled up,—when the grace of a Redeemer, the inward touches of divine power, and the obligations of penance and self-denial, which were received for a while as extraneous appendages to natural religion, were found to be involved in the very bowels of it. That, the restitution of all things is the time when they shall fully be reconciled; when nature and grace shall be at their height, and the perfection of both be the same thing. That, this conclusion seems to be nigh us in the present age, when evangelical and moral virtue, which formerly stood in points so remote from each other, are so near falling into coincident lines, that, men have much ado to make any distinction that will hold in fact.

“But to come to the point. That regeneration is the beginning of a life which is not fully enjoyed but in another world, we all know. But how much of it may be enjoyed at present? What degree of it does the experience of mankind encourage us to expect? And by what symptoms shall we know it?

“Let us consult our observation as to the gradual progress of a religious life. At first, men are solicited with strong convictions of conscience: the pain of these and the sensible pleasure they feel as rewarding their acts of duty, are their bias to religion; while an overwhelming admiration of divine things, and a view to the issues of eternity, check their natural boldness and levity; at once abase and enlarge the understanding; and, from the anguish of hope and fear, produce zeal. Then, having reformed all crying disorders, and being prompt and expert in exercises of devotion, there is less matter for vehement remorse or fear; and the peace and congratulation of conscience hereupon being comfort sufficient, the more transporting flashes of joy are withdrawn; and thus, the man, having no religious passions, and being in war with corrupt passions, acquaints himself with the measures, motives, and fitness of virtues, and acts them in the strength of rational consideration.

“Here he labours long, and seems perhaps to have overcome all his vicious inclinations; (unless some one may show itself, more to his secret confusion and pain, than guilt,) being always in a posture of religious care, severity of thought, and habitual regularity of life. But then he complains of a general lukewarmness,—his intercourse with God is not enlivened with any particular successes, tender affections, or noble discoveries. For this he is much afflicted; yet, in the multitude of his thoughts within him, there is a good hope towards God at the bottom, which becomes more explicit by listening to the gospel. The redemption through Christ drops like balm into his soul, and he scruples not now to confess that his religious actions were but formal and worthless; yet, through gratitude to his Saviour and joy in Him, he is more ready than ever to continue the practice of them.

“Yet, he frequently falls into faintings and desolations. He is chiefly troubled at the opposition which self-love and pride make to the spirit of Christ within him. These make him unfaithful in the happy moments of grace, and infest him continually in his weaker intervals. Yea, he can trace them through every action of his life, and begin to see the depth and extent of his depravity. Hereupon, he keeps himself in constant recollection, to watch and resist it. He rejoices that, upon applying to God, a temptation vanishes; yet, very often it dwells so obstinately upon his mind, that his thoughts are shut up within the circle of their own folly and baseness, and he can only send groanings that cannot be uttered after the divine gift he once enjoyed. That gift, however, returns, and sometimes so long together, that he is able to form some idea of a spiritual life,—of the purity and long-suffering, the humility and charity, the magnanimity and singleness of heart, that are suitable for one in whom the Holy Spirit dwells. His desire insensibly sets him on work to procure those dispositions, which follow upon his wish; for the soul no sooner conceives the temper it would be in, but the body (being taught that obsequiousness by the strong recollection lately used, which suspends, clarifies, and determines the animal spirit) immediately furnishes the sensation, air, and whole energy of that temper.

“These smooth and ready emotions of virtue, which seem to give a man a more real and genuine possession of it than ever, do also encourage the mind to launch out in sublime theories; wherein it is much assisted by the repose and security it enjoys towards God, and by the delicate philosophic joy overflowing all the faculties, which raises the imagination to greater magnificence and sagacity. Here the grand system of Providence and all its various dispensations; the correspondencies of heaven and earth, of time and eternity; the gaiety and mournings of nature, and the greatness and abjectness of man; the saving mystery of human life, and the saving mystery of Christianity inserted into it;—all these are inquired into, not out of vain curiosity, but at the instigation of love, to salute the divine goodness in all its works. This is the meridian of the religious man. His notions and his virtues are at the height, in their full clearness and fervour. The love of holiness shines through him, and unites under it all the movements of nature. It commands and pierces all that converse with him. All, after this, is, to the eye of man, a decline and a fall; but a decline by a regular appointed path, and a fall into the arms of secret and infinite mercy. I need not explain to you what I mean; so I will shut up the description.

“Now, where in all these stages shall we place our regeneration? And what shall we say it is? There is reason to think, that, we have no more real goodness (except experience) in one of these states than another,—in the last than the first; we only fill our minds with new sets of ideas, and, by a temporary force, drive our constitution into something that seems answerable to them. Let this force cease, and we are the same as before; when we are in the most plausible posture of virtue, let us but sleep upon it, or otherwise remit the contention of the mind, and ’tis no more; affectation gives place to nature.

“But, you will say, the operation of grace is a real thing. It is so; but, for all the indications we commonly go by to prove the peculiar presence of it, it may be nowhere or everywhere to be found. Most people measure it by the relish they have for some particular schemes and draughts of religion. Little do they think, that, the persons whom they most condemn as unspiritual and deluded, abating for what is merely accidental, are in the same state of heart as themselves. It may be the same complexional turn of the soul, (God also speaking peace to it, and to every man in his own language,) that makes the mystic happy in his prayer and quietness, the solifidian in his imputed righteousness, and the moral man in a good conscience. Nay, perhaps, what many a man calls divine love and joy in the Holy Ghost, has nothing in it, beyond the alacrity of youth or good blood in other people, but a set of phrases and notions from the last book he read; which has given a determination to that natural vigour and sweetness of temper, that were indifferent to any other issue or exercise.

“I do not doubt but there is goodness in mankind, and a goodness of God’s inspiring too; but, I believe it more evenly distributed among them, and less annexed to particular ways of thinking and behaviour. Nay, that it is not so annexed even to Christianity, (though it does essentially depend on Christ, the universal Redeemer,) but, that, as it was in being before this particular institution, so it might be obtained if the initiating rite should happen to be wanting. Yet, this rite must always be used, for the same reason as it was at first appointed, to be memorial to mankind of what is continually done for them in their hearts. Therefore, it was attended with such extraordinary effects at first, that, by these manifestations of the divine life, the reality of it might be firmly believed and depended on in succeeding times, as well as sacramentally acknowledged. The same would still continue, if we had more faith in, and zeal for, the Christian institution; for, according as men believe and expect, God does unto them. But, at present, He seems to have let the Church drop into the world, and does not so much distinguish some from the rest, in righteousness and salvation.

“Whether this be a right state of things, I cannot tell; but it seems unavoidable when every one that is born, is, of course, a member of the Church. If the safety and tolerable piety of whole nations is thereby better provided for, the exemplariness and instruction of an elect city set upon a hill cease. It seems to be the order of Providence now, that none should have much holiness, that all may have a little.

“Dear sir, I have given no particular answer to your questions; but I have said something hastily, perhaps very wrong; but I know to whom Miss Wesley[125] gives her love, and would have written, but she is somewhat indisposed.

“Your affectionate brother and servant,

“J. GAMBOLD.”

Such was Gambold’s philosophical religion, previous to his acquaintance with Peter Böhler. He was sincere and in earnest; but he was enveloped in a mystic fog. His was a grand attempt to save himself, but how the thing was to be accomplished he hardly knew. It was greatly to his credit, as it was also to that of Wesley, that he was willing to be taught, even by a German stranger. Twelve months after the date of the foregoing letter, Gambold wrote another equally important. In the interval, both he and the two Wesley’s had been “brought out of” Pharisaic and Philosophic “darkness into marvellous light.” The two letters have only to be compared to see the surprising change in the writer’s views. The following was addressed to Wesley’s brother Charles:—

“_January 23rd, 1738-9._

“DEAR SIR,—I understand that you have written to me, but the letter happened to be lost, and I did not receive it. Your brother desired me to reed his sermon for him; which, God willing, I shall do next Sunday.

“I have seen upon this occasion, more than ever I could have imagined, how intolerable the doctrine of faith is to the mind of man; how peculiarly intolerable, even to most religious men. One may say the most unchristian things, even down to deism; the most enthusiastic things, so they proceed but upon mental raptures, lights, and unions; the most severe things, even the whole rigour of ascetic mortification; and all this will be forgiven. But if you speak of faith, in such a manner as makes Christ a Saviour to the utmost,—a most universal help and refuge,—in such a manner as takes away glorying, but adds happiness to wretched man; as discovers greater pollution in the best of us than we could before acknowledge, but brings a greater deliverance from it, than we could before expect. If any one offers to talk at this rate, he shall be heard with the same abhorrence as if he were going to rob mankind of their salvation, their Mediator, and their hopes of forgiveness.

“I am persuaded that a Montanist, or a Novatian, who, from the height of his purity, should look down with contempt upon poor sinners, and exclude them from all mercy, would not be thought such an overthrower of the Gospel, as he who should learn, from the Author of it, to be a friend of publicans and sinners, and to sit down upon a level with them as soon as they begin to repent. But this is not to be wondered at. For all religious people have such a quantity of righteousness acquired by such painful exercise, and formed at last into current habits, which is their wealth both for this world and the next! Now all other schemes of religion are either so complaisant, as to tell them they are very rich, and have enough to triumph in; or else, only a little rough, but friendly in the main, by telling them their riches are not yet sufficient, but by such arts of self-denial and mental refinement, they may enlarge the stock. But the doctrine of faith is a downright robber. It takes away all this wealth, and only tells us it is deposited for us with some one else, upon whose bounty we must live like mere beggars. Indeed, they who are truly beggars, vile and filthy sinners till very lately, may stoop to live in this dependent condition; it suits them well enough; but those who have long distinguished themselves from the herd of vicious wretches, or have even gone beyond moral men,—for them to be told, that they are either not so well, or but the same needy, impotent, insignificant vessels of mercy with the others,—this is more shocking to reason than transubstantiation; for reason had rather resign its pretentions to judge what is bread or flesh, than have this honour wrested from it, to be the architect of virtue and righteousness.

“But whither am I running? My design was only to give you warning, that, wherever you go, this foolishness of preaching will alienate hearts from you, and open mouths against you. What are you then to do, my dear friend? I will not exhort you to courage; we need not talk of that, for nothing that is approaching is evil. I will only mention the prejudice we shall be under if we seem in the least to lay aside universal charity and modesty of expression. Though we love some persons more than we did, let us love none less; and the rather, because we cannot say any one is bad, or destitute of divine grace, for not thinking as we do. He only less apprehends, less enjoys that in Christianity, which is the refuge of the weak and miserable, and will be his when he finds himself so. Indignation at mankind is a temper unsuitable to this cause. If we are indeed at peace with God in Christ, let it soften our demeanour still more, even towards gainsayers. Let them reject us: till then, and (as far as it will be admitted,) afterwards, let our friendship with them continue inviolate.

“Then as to expressions. What has given most offence hitherto, is what, perhaps, may be best spared,—as some people’s confident and hasty triumphs in the grace of God; not by way of humble thankfulness to Him for looking upon them, or acknowledgment of some peace and strength unknown before; but insisting on the completeness of their justification, the completeness of their deliverance already from all sin, and taking to them every apostolical boast in the strongest terms. I do not deny but power over sin, and every Gospel privilege, are bestowed, perhaps, in as large a degree, in the beginning of grace, as at any time afterwards; for it depends upon the actual operation of the Spirit that moment upon the heart, not on a mere federal or habitual union with Him; and his operation is particularly strong at the first entrance upon a new life. Yet, as such converts must remember, that, as this absolute degree of innocence, excluding for the most part even the first motions of sin, may soon depart from them, and be given them but sometimes; though till they fall from God, they will still be free from wilful sins; so while it continues, it is the most slippery and dangerous thing, among all the blessings they receive, for themselves to reflect much upon, and the most exceptionable that they can talk of to other men. Let us speak of everything in such a manner, as may convey glory to Christ, without letting it glance on ourselves by the way.

“JOHN GAMBOLD.”[126]

Though exception may be taken to some of the expressions, yet the above is a most admirable letter; and shows that Gambold had embraced the same faith as Wesley,—sinners are saved solely through the merits of Christ Jesus; and on the simple exercise of faith in Him. It was not without a struggle that he was brought to this conviction. Peter Böhler said to Wesley, “My brother, my brother, that philosophy of yours must be purged away.” The same might have been said to Gambold. His learning had to give place to the simple teaching of the Word of God. He had to relinquish philosophical theories; and submit to the authoritative utterances of Christ and of His Apostles. Reason had to bend to revelation. In the case of a sincere and earnest man, like Gambold, this mental transformation was not a trifle. He himself, in a letter without date, and apparently addressed to Wesley, refers to the difficulties, and obstacles he encountered. His very learning was a hindrance in the way of his being saved; and he was reluctantly convinced, that, when “the aphorisms of learning pretend to describe and circumscribe the process of salvation, then the words of any one who has but a good heart and common sense, are generally more complete than those of a finished divine; and tally better with the unsearchable divine economy.” He continues:—

“These obstacles of nature’s education, I have often sighed under; and, imagining I knew where the shoe pinched in your case also, I advised the most artless, direct, and confident laying hold of the Scripture declaration, without the ceremony and circuitions of a man of learning, and a man of prudence, or a man of decorum, but simply as a _plain man_, who wants for his own soul to experience the manifestation of redeeming grace. The words of our Saviour and His apostles, which I said we are to take quite simply, are such as these,—‘Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.’ ‘Him that cometh unto Me, I will in no wise cast out.’ ‘He that believeth, shall not come into condemnation; but is passed from death unto life.’ ‘If thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth.’ ‘My grace is sufficient for thee; for My strength is made perfect in thy weakness.’ ‘This is a faithful saying, that Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners,’ etc., etc.”

There is another letter, written by Gambold, during his transition state, which further illustrates his views and feelings at this important crisis. It was addressed “to a studious young lady,”—probably Kezziah Wesley,—and concerning it Wesley himself remarks:—“It well deserves the attention of the serious and sensible reader. Indeed, unless read with a good deal of attention, it will scarce be understood, the thoughts are so deep, and so concisely expressed.” The following are brief extracts:—

“I will no more speak against reading, since, as you say, you ‘take pleasure in nothing else in the world.’ For, I cannot deny, but I should be glad myself to have some object of pleasure in the world; something, whether great or mean, I do not care, so it be innocent, that might be a relief to my weary mind. In the situation I am in, not yet admitted to the glorious comforts of faith, and yet sick of the burden of corrupt nature, it seems necessary sometimes to set aside the dejecting prospect, by some amusement, however low. The lower it is, the fitter for me, till faith in Christ raises me from spiritual darkness and death. Then I would hope for such solid consolation, as may well supersede the poor amusements and delights of the natural man.”

“There is no such lumber in the world, as our last year’s notions, which yet, in their day, were wonderfully fine and delightful. The fruit of the Tree of Knowledge will not keep: it is pleasant enough when you first pluck it; but, if you pretend to lay it up, it will rot. The man who has discovered, as far as human thought can go, the manner how the world was created, and how it shall be restored, the nature of the human soul, and its state after death,—when he has done, what is he the better? When the heat of thinking is over, will his heart be found in any better or nobler condition, than other men’s? Unless some bye-reasons engage him still to his old speculations (as the respect paid him upon that account by the world and by his juniors), will not he confess, that he is now never the happier for them? Will not he prefer plain common-sense before all such subtleties? Alas, alas! Under the greatest accomplishments of the head, the heart remains just the same as it was. This is very true, though it does not presently appear to us. I cannot, therefore, agree to that fine Platonical insinuation, that, ‘so much as we have of truth, so much we have of God.’

“I heartily condole with you under the troubles of this life: I am ready to sink under them myself. You suffered severely, while you lived with us, from sickness and pain, bodily hardships, etc. It grieves me to think, that ever it should be your lot to struggle with these. Yet, while you continue in this world, you must expect to bear your cross. Comfort yourself under it as well as you can, by applying arguments for patience; and if at any time you should not have strength of mind to do this, God Himself will either support and comfort you, or pity and accept you amidst your weakness.”

“Now, after all this long talk, the chief thing, that, by my calling and my conscience, I ought to have spoken of, and recommended to you, I have passed over; and that is faith in Christ. This is the thing that I ought to speak of with zeal and delight;—that ought to be the brightest in my imagination, and nearest to my heart. How little do any other speculations or reasonings conduce to this faith; and how insignificant are they, if they do not conduce to it! I know, and actually make the reflection upon myself, that, whatever I read, or write, or speak, upon any other subject but this, I am a miserable trifler. Perhaps then I do very ill, to trifle with you. It may be, you have felt the great work of faith, cleansing you from all sin in the blood of Christ;—that, being righteous before God, you have peace therefrom, which passes all understanding;—that, all things are become new with you; and you have a new judgment and taste, as well as new satisfactions and employments suggested to you by the Spirit of wisdom and consolation. You seem to hint in the beginning of your letter, that, either you are in this state, or the desire of your heart is towards it; for you say, you now acquiesce in that, which (by the description I could make of it), is the righteousness of faith. If so, then you have cause to rejoice; and your joy no man taketh from you.”

Some may think, that, in these quotations, the importance of human learning is unduly lowered; but all will admit that the learned recluse at Stanton-Harcourt, had embraced the simple method of human salvation, by a simple and sole reliance on the sacrifice and merits of Christ Jesus. This is the point which we are wishful to enforce; inasmuch as it, not only is “the truth as it is in Jesus;” but, was the origin of the great Methodist movement of the eighteenth century. Without this, England would have been without its latest religious reformation. On this ground, some other extracts from the works of Gambold, may be useful.

It is a fact, not generally noticed, that, though Gambold’s Tragedy,—the Martyrdom of Ignatius, was not published until after the authors death,[127] it was written as early as the year 1740; and, hence, may be taken as an exposition of Gambold’s views and feelings, at this early period of his life.

It certainly seems somewhat strange, that an earnest young clergyman, twenty-nine years of age, and only recently brought to the enjoyment of personal salvation, by penitent faith in Christ, should employ his time and pen upon a dramatical production; but it must be borne in mind,—(1) that, from his youth, Gambold had had a great fondness for dramatic pieces, both ancient and modern, (2) that, Gambold’s Tragedy was never intended for the stage, (3) that, its sentiments are unexceptionably pure and good; and (4) that, he was not the first who had attempted to represent the principles and practices of the Christian religion in such a form.

Gambold’s work may be a defective drama; but it is a thoughtful poem, and deserves attention. Take the following extracts, all bearing upon faith in Christ and its immediate results.

“This is the sum, my brethren! Christ is all: If e’er we lean to other things we fall. Spirit, and rites, and reason too, are good, If planted and if glorying in His blood. Faith is so simple, whence all good doth spring, Mankind can’t think it is so great a thing; Still o’er this pearl steps their ambitious pride, Pursuing gladly any form beside.”

“Come hither, ye, whom from an evil world The name of Jesus draws! You count Him sweet, And great, and mighty, by that glimm’ring light Your novice minds have gained. You venerate That full acquaintance, and that vital union Whereby the faithful know Him; and to this You now aspire. But can you then let go Your manly wisdom, and become as babes, To learn new maxims and the mind of Christ? Can you forsake your former ease and sunshine, T’ associate with a poor afflicted people, The scorn of all mankind? Can you the weight Of your whole souls, with all your hopes of God, Rest on a long-past action; and that, such As your Lord’s mystic but opprobrious death?”

“The friends of Christ Don’t strive with sin, but trample under foot Its poor, exploded, antiquated strength; They don’t rely on some benign event From the wide wheel of things; but pierce directly Where Jesus now admits them, and ordains Their thrones in bliss: hence they in spirit stand Free from all spot, amidst the train of heaven, And see God’s face, whose full and constant smile Doth so attend them through the wilds of life, That natural dejection, flitting fears, And all vicissitude, are swallowed up In one still dawn of that eternal day.”

“Are there not here Men who can say, in soberness and truth, That guilt is done away, and innocence, Fearless and free, restored within their breasts? That vice, with dark inextricable bands, No more detains, nor drives to acts of shame The blushing, reasoning, reluctant mind? That, for the passions, which by turns inspire The worthless life of nature,—anger, sloth, And avarice, and pride,—pure love prevails, Kindled by heaven, nor by a bad world quenched? That, they have inwardly exchanged their climate, And passed from death to life; so that their heart, Healed and exulting, from its deep recess, Returns this answer: That the power of evil, The sting of pain, and terrors of the grave, Are now no more, or but at distance rage In faithless minds; while not a dart can reach Their citadel of peace in Jesu’s love? That they, in short, to God’s paternal face And firm affection can appeal and look, Nor earthly griefs dare intercept the prospect; But still to every want they feel as men,— To every priestly, charitable prayer They breathe as saints of God; His ear and power Are nigh; till, thus, by constant use and proof Of aid celestial, heaven is, more than earth, Their home, the country of their heart and commerce?”

More extracts are not needed. John Gambold, the learned, moping, gloomy, philosophic Mystic, became an humble, happy, trustful believer in Christ Jesus. He shall tell his own story. Though he was introduced to Böhler in January, 1738, and became his interpreter when he preached, yet, for two years after this, his state of mind was very painful. In a letter dated April 3, 1740, he describes himself as being “mostly pensive and dejected, surrounded with solitude, sickness, and silence; not gathering strength, like the heroes, from rich circumstances, but, like vulgar minds, contracting an abjectness that blunts every finer sentiment, and damps every nobler ardour of the soul.” The day of his deliverance, however, was drawing nigh. Speaking of the Moravians, he writes:—

“I looked upon them as a happy people, and their doctrine as fundamentally true, but could not apply the comforts thereof to myself, being discouraged from so doing by the deep sense I had of my own guilt and depravity, and by being defeated in the hopes of being happy in the notions which I had formerly imbibed. Therefore, I despaired of being in a condition better than the generality of mankind, or different from them. But, in December, 1740, my younger brother, having been with the Brethren in London, came to see me. The account which he gave of the happy course he observed amongst them, struck me with such an agreeable surprise, that I could not but return with him thither. My design was to see the order established, and to feel the spirit which prevailed amongst them where several of them dwelt together. The purpose of my visit was answered to my great satisfaction, and I could believe, not only that they were right both in principle and practice, but that I might have a share of the same grace which they enjoyed. After having been again in their company, I perceived an impulse upon my mind to devote myself entirely to Him who died for me, and to live wholly for Him and to His service.”

It is a curious fact, that, in the same year in which Wesley seceded from the London Moravians, Gambold became enamoured with them. Philip Henry Molther had created immense confusion and bitterness, by preaching the unscriptural doctrine, that, “to search the Scriptures, to pray, or to communicate, before we have faith, is to seek salvation by works; and such works must be laid aside before faith can be received.” Strangely enough, Gambold, and also Westley Hall (another of the Oxford Methodists), adopted this dangerous delusion. Hence the following from Wesley’s Journal:—

“1741, January 28. Our old friends, Mr. Gambold and Mr. Hall, came to see my brother and me. The conversation turned wholly on silent prayer, and quiet waiting for God; which, they said, was the only possible way to attain living, saving faith.

“Sirenum voces, et Circes pocula nosti?

“Was there ever so pleasing a scheme? But where is it written? Not in any of those books which I account the oracles of God. I allow, if there is a better way to God than the scriptural way, this is it. But the prejudice of education so hangs upon me, that I cannot think there is. I must, therefore, still wait in the Bible-way, from which this differs as light from darkness.”

The reader has here a characteristic specimen of Wesley’s refined irony, and determined adherence to the word of God. In the latter, Gambold sometimes failed. He was still a young man of only thirty; and yet not a few of the years of his past life had been worse than wasted, by his indulging in the philosophical speculations of the ancients, instead of taking the Scriptures for his guide; and now, when he had emerged from the mists of the early ages of the Christian Church, he suddenly plunged into the delusive fog of the newly-arrived Philip Henry Molther. How long he continued there we have no means of knowing; but one thing is certain, that, the above-named heresy occasioned contentions which created a partial estrangement between him and his old friend Wesley. In July, 1741, Wesley had to preach before the Oxford University, in the church of St Mary’s; and, being in doubt as to the subject of his sermon, whether it should be from the text, “Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian,” or from, “How is the faithful city become an harlot!” he went to Oxford, a month before the time of its delivery, to advise with Gambold concerning it, but met with a response far from friendly. Wesley writes:—

“He seemed to think it of no moment; ‘For,’ said he, ‘all here are so prejudiced, that they will mind nothing you say.’”

Wesley adds:—

“I know not that. However, I am to deliver my own soul, whether they will hear, or whether they will forbear.”

Even this was not all. Only a fortnight later, Wesley wrote:—

“1741, July 2. I met Mr. Gambold again, who honestly told me he was ashamed of my company, and, therefore, must be excused from going to the society with me. This is plain dealing at last.”

Such was another of the disastrous results of Molther’s visit to the London Moravians: Wesley and Gambold, bound together by hundreds of endearing facts, were parted; and, though not converted into foes, were no longer friends.

It is a melancholy fact, that this estrangement was not temporary. Twelve months before, the friendship between Whitefield and Wesley had been ruptured; but, in 1742, there was a sincere and hearty reunion, which lasted until death. In the case of Gambold, it was otherwise, but through no fault of Wesley’s. On December 23, 1745, Charles Wesley wrote as follows:—

“I met my old friend, John Gambold, at my printer’s, and appointed to meet him to-morrow at Dr. Newton’s. I brought my brother with me. I found the Germans had quite estranged and stole away his heart, which nevertheless relented, while we talked over the passages of our former friendship; but he hardened himself against the weakness of gratitude. We could not prevail upon him to meet us again.”

Yea, more than this. Eighteen years afterwards, Wesley himself made the following entries in his journal:—

“1763, November 5. I spent some time with my old friend, John. Gambold. Who but Count Zinzendorf could have separated such friends as we were? Shall we never unite again?

“December 16. I spent an agreeable hour, and not unprofitably, with my old friend, John Gambold. O how gladly could I join heart and hand again! But, alas! thy heart is not as my heart!”

Gambold would not resume the friendship; but, to the very last, Wesley held him in high esteem. Only twelve months before Gambold’s death, he spoke of him as being one of the most “sensible men in England.”[128] But to return to Oxford, where the breach first occurred.

Wesley’s sermon, before the University, was preached and published; and it is a curious fact, that, of all the sermons Gambold ever preached, only two have appeared in print, and, that, one of the two was delivered in the same year, in the same church, and before the same audience, as this of Wesley’s was. Gambold’s sermon was founded upon the text, “And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for behold I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people;” and was entitled: “Christianity Tidings of Joy. A Sermon preached before the University of Oxford, at St. Mary’s, on Sunday, December 27, 1741. Published at the request of Mr. Vice-Chancellor.”

The two sermons were widely different. Wesley’s was intensely practical and faithful; an earnest and comprehensive enforcement of experimental and practical religion, with a direct, searching, personal application, which, under the circumstances, was much more likely to be censured than applauded. Gambold’s was much more than twice the length of Wesley’s; but not half so simple and useful. Wesley’s was full of the Methodist doctrine of the day; Gambold’s was a metaphysical disquisition, which might, with consistency, have been uttered by any of the Oxford divines opposed to the Methodist movement. It would not be true to say, that, his remarks were not pertinent; but they were not what such an audience might have expected from a newly converted Methodist. How to account for this we know not. His sermon is long, learned, and able; but it fails to reach the heart and conscience as Wesley’s does. Besides, there is one sentence in it which, as coming from such a man, is perfectly perplexing. He expressly asserts that “a man’s sins are forgiven in baptism;” and that baptism, “the channel of remission, is qualification enough for heaven, to those who die upon it.” To reconcile the discrepancy between this and Gambold’s own statements as already quoted, is difficult, if not impossible. The fact seems to be, that, though he had embraced the doctrine of salvation by faith only, he was still infected with some of the High Church principles of the Oxford Methodists; and his evangelical and able ministry was marred and made misty by the philosophical speculations and reasonings in which he had so long indulged. That he was a trustful and saved believer in Jesus Christ, there cannot be a doubt; but he failed to announce the great doctrines, which he had been taught by Böhler, with the simplicity, clearness, earnestness, and pathos that Wesley did. Wesley’s heart was full of them; and, in all his wanderings, they were almost the only theme of his daily ministry. Gambold held, and also preached them; but, perhaps, from his metaphysical cast of mind, they were not so clearly and forcibly presented as by his quondam friend.

Nine months after the delivery of his sermon before the University, Gambold formally severed himself from the Established Church, and united with the Moravians. He was the fifth of the Oxford Methodists who had joined the Brethren. Of these, the two Wesleys had seceded,—or, it might almost be said,—had been virtually expelled. The third, Benjamin Ingham, in this very year, 1742, transferred to the Moravians more than fifty societies, which he had been the instrument of raising in two of the northern counties. Westley Hall, the fourth, need not here be further mentioned. Gambold, the fifth, was the only one who died in the Moravian communion. The step he took was well-considered. He might seem odd; but he was unquestionably sincere. The Moravians in England were only of a few years’ standing, and had many faults; but there was one thing in existence among them, and practised by them, after which Gambold, newly converted, longed with the utmost earnestness,—Christian fellowship. Of this, there was none at Stanton-Harcourt; and it was only now, in 1742, that his old friend Wesley thoroughly succeeded in making such a provision for the Methodists, by dividing their Societies into Classes. This was the thing for which Gambold pined. It could be enjoyed nowhere except among either Wesley’s people or the Moravians. Gambold and Wesley were no longer friends; and, hence, the union of Gambold with the Brethren. With this view, he applied to them for admission, committing himself to their direction, and having no choice with regard to any station or office to be held by him in the future. In the beginning of October, 1742, he simply writes:—

“Having had assurance that such a favour might be granted, I left my parish with a view to live wholly with the Brethren.”

Of course he had previously communicated his intention to the Bishop of Oxford, and also to his patron, Lord Harcourt; and both had strongly urged him to change his purpose: but his resolution was fixed. In due form he resigned his living, and issued an address to his parishioners, of which the following is the substance:—

“It is not in consequence of any resentment, or of any worldly motive that I give up my parish. I have not so implicitly given up my judgment to others as to be prevailed upon, by their persuasion, to take this step. The reason for my so doing is well grounded, and to my own satisfaction. It does not, I assure you, proceed from any dislike that I have to the worship of God in the Church of England. I find no fault with any passage or clause in the Common Prayer Book. Nor can I, in justice, be considered in the same light with such persons as slight and forsake one party of Christians and go over to another without sufficient cause. But that which has determined the choice I have made, was the earnest desire I found in myself of that improvement in the knowledge of the Gospel, and in the experience of the grace of Jesus Christ, which I stood in need of. The blessings purchased by the blood of the Shepherd of our souls, I longed to enjoy in fellowship with a little flock of His sheep, who daily feed on the merits of His passion, and whose great concern is to build up one another in their most holy faith, and to propagate the truth, as it is in Jesus, for the good of others. His gracious presence, the power of His Word, and the virtue of His blood, I wanted to have a more lively sense of, for my own comfort and support in the Christian warfare; and I had reason to hope for those means of happiness, especially where brethren dwell together in unity, for there the Lord commandeth His blessing and life for evermore. This is all I aim at in withdrawing myself from you; and may this departure give no offence to any one.

“I now take my last adieu, and earnestly pray for you and for myself. For myself, that I may be faithful to the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and prove His servant, truly devoted to Him, where I am going; and may you, where you remain, be as obedient to the influence of His Spirit and the dictates of His word as I wish to be; so shall we one day rejoice before the Great Shepherd of our souls, that merciful and compassionate Saviour, in whom there is, in the meantime, life, peace, and joy for all believers. I do not go from you because I cannot live in the Church of England, as an outward profession, or because I prefer any other form of ecclesiastical government before that which is by law established in this kingdom; but the inducement which leads me to this change, is the great concern I have for the attainment of a happy state of mind; and, to compass this end, no means, through the blessing of God, appear to me so proper as a free intercourse with those who are of the same principles with my own, to whom I may communicate without reserve; and from whom I can receive that assistance of advice and comfort, which is necessary for a person encompassed with such infirmities as I am. I heartily wish you may derive more benefit from the instructions of my successor, than you have, or could have done, from mine; and I trust this will be the case.”

Nothing need be added to this, except the remark that, in these days, when the utility and necessity of meetings for religious fellowship are so boldly called in question, an argument in their favour may be taken from the yearning experience of this Oxford Methodist.

Gambold spent twenty-nine years in close and active connection with the Moravians; but his life, compared with the career of Wesley and of Whitefield, was uneventful.

At the time of his admission, “the congregation of the Lamb, with its officers and servants as settled in London,” consisted of twenty-one married men, thirteen married women, three widowers, five widows, sixteen single men, and fourteen single women, a total of seventy-two persons. This was a small affair. The Moravians had the start of Wesley’s society in London; and yet that Society, in February, 1743, numbered not fewer than 1950 members.[129] It is also a curious fact, that, nearly one half of the Moravian Society were office-bearers; that is, “Congregation Elders, Vice Elders, Eldresses, Waiters, Choristers, Admonitors, Censors, Servants, and Sick Waiters.” Excepting Gambold and James Hutton, none seem to have had the advantages of education; and, probably, all the men were tradesmen, journeymen, or mechanics.[130] This was the society Gambold joined, for the sake of Christian fellowship.

His stay in London was not long. On the 14th of May, 1743, he married, and, for eighteen months afterwards, abode in Wales, chiefly at Haverfordwest, where he kept a school, and preached occasionally.

Gambold returned to London in November, 1744; and here, with trifling exceptions, he seems to have resided until his death, in 1771. Here, at Fetter Lane, he preached with power, eloquence, and sacred unction; and numbers were benefited by his ministry. His views of baptism, and his mode of administering it, may be gathered from a paragraph in the “Memoirs of James Hutton,” where, under date of September 13, 1745, it is said,—

“Gambold baptized Brother Fell’s little boy. He spoke on baptism, and said, ‘it was a delivering a child over into the death of our Saviour.’ After prayer, he took the child into his arms, and, taking water three times, he baptized him in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost; then, singing some verses, he carried the child round to the labourers who were present, who blessed him by laying on of hands.”

As already stated, the Moravian Society in London was small; but its meetings were numerous. From a list of the “public and private opportunities of the Brethren at London, throughout the whole week,” in February, 1747, we learn that they had four sermons every Sunday, two in English and two in German; also German preaching every Tuesday, and English every Tuesday and Thursday. Besides these services, however, there were twenty-two others on Sunday, six on Monday, five on Tuesday, thirteen on Wednesday, nine on Thursday, five on Friday, and five on Saturday, making seventy-two religious services every week, exclusive of monthly general meetings, prayer days, children’s prayer days, and sacraments. To what extent Gambold took part in these Moravian meetings, it is impossible to say; but, numerically considered, there was, beyond a doubt, sufficient scope to gratify his longings for religious fellowship.

In 1747, Gambold, accompanied by Ingham, Okeley, Hutton, and Cennick, paid a visit to Hernhaag, where he continued for several months, and gained the respect and love of all who knew him. His visit was at an important crisis in the Brethren’s history; and, probably, was occasioned by the disastrous fanaticism which had broken out in that important settlement. In 1738, a building was begun at Hernhaag, designed to serve as an asylum for persons educated in the German Calvinistic Church, and persecuted on account of their connection with the Brethren. In 1740, a congregation was regularly organized; and, in a few years, Hernhaag contained a greater number of inhabitants than Herrnhut. Here boarding-schools were established for the education of the children of the Moravian ministers, whether employed in the service of the church at home or in foreign lands; and the place altogether was one of great importance. In 1746, however, there was the utmost danger of this Christian settlement being ruined. Here began an evil, which soon became widespread, and which required vigorous and long-continued efforts to annihilate. The following is extracted from Holmes’ “History of the Protestant Church of the United Brethren” (Vol. i., p. 399).

“In their zeal to root out self-righteousness, the Brethren were not sufficiently on their guard against levity of expression. The delight they took in speaking of the sufferings of Christ, which arose from the penetrating sense they had of their infinite value, by degrees degenerated into fanciful representations of the various scenes of His passion. Their style, in speaking and writing, lost its former plainness and simplicity, and became turgid, puerile, and fanatical, abounding in playful allusions to Christ as the Lamb, the Bridegroom, etc., by which He is described in holy writ, and in fanciful representations of the wound in His side. In describing the spiritual relation between Christ and His Church, the highly figurative language of the Canticles was substituted in the place of the dignified simplicity, used by our Saviour and His apostles, when speaking on this subject. Some less-experienced preachers even seemed to vie with each other in introducing, into their discourses, the most extravagant, and often wholly unintelligible, expressions. This kept the hearers in a state of constant excitement, but was not calculated to subject every thought of the heart to the obedience of Christ. Religion, instead of enlightening the understanding, governing the affections, and regulating the general conduct, became a play of the imagination.

“This species of fanaticism first broke out at Herrnhaag, in the year 1746, and, from thence, spread into several other congregations. Many were carried away by it, for it seemed to promise a certain joyous perfection, representing believers as innocent, playful children, who might be quite at their ease amidst all the trials and difficulties incident to the present life. The effect produced was such as might be expected. The more serious members of the church (and these after all formed the major part) bitterly lamented an evil, which they could not at once eradicate. Others, considering the malady as incurable, withdrew from its communion. The behaviour of such as were most infected with this error, though not immoral and criminal, was yet highly disgraceful to their Christian profession. Had not God in mercy averted the impending danger, a spirit of religious levity and antinomianism might, by degrees, have sapped the very foundation of the Brethren’s Church, and completed her ruin.”

What part Gambold took in this affair at Herrnhaag, and with what results, we have no means of knowing; but certain it is, that, this pestiferous lusciousness spread to England, and, for many a long year afterwards, disgraced the Moravian hymns, and justly exposed the Moravians themselves to the censures and taunts of both friends and foes. It would be easy to quote instances illustrative of this, from the English Moravian Hymn Book, “published chiefly for the Use of the Congregations in Union with the Brethren’s Church,” in 1754; but the reader would not be edified by such quotations.

The Moravians in England, when compared with the Methodists, could hardly be considered a prosperous community. From the first, a considerable number of their members belonged to other churches; and, in 1749, an effort was made to multiply such extra-ecclesiastical adherents, by instituting what was called an English Tropus, the object being to provide a means whereby the members of other communities, and, notably, of the Church of England, might be enrolled in the Moravian Brotherhood, without severing themselves from the churches of which they already formed a part. This was one of the subjects discussed at a synod held in London in the above-mentioned year; and, to facilitate the matter, Gambold addressed the following letter “To Papa, _i.e._ Count Zinzendorf,” the beginning of which, to mention nothing else, shows how far even Gambold had fallen into the offensive use of the adulatory language of Moravian sycophants.

“MOST DEAR AND PATERNAL HEART.—A certain reflection has this day arisen in my mind, which, such as it is, I wish to communicate to you. I perceive that you and your faithful colleagues are earnestly labouring to bring it about, that, those, who flee from the fold of the Anglican religion, may not be completely cut off from the said religion; but still continue in ecclesiastical bond with it; and, therefore, you propose to constitute an Anglican tropus among the Brethren,—an object most dear to us, and with the greatest propriety recommended; inasmuch as it is beginning, as I imagine, to be thought desirable by the clergy of this country also. I greatly fear, however, that there are, in their hierarchy, certain deficiencies which may occasion some obstruction to the consent of the majority; moreover, other considerations may oppose the arrangement, that one prelate (the others being unconsulted, except, perhaps, synodically), should be able to concede this privilege.

“Two special means, or symbols of union, are contained, as I understand, under the word Tropus. ONE REQUISITE is, that some prelate of the Anglican Church should be invested with the office of examining into such matters as the Brethren agitate, and, on the part of his Church, and with the seal of the same, assisting at their ordinations. The _other requisite_ is, that the Liturgy, or Prayers of the Anglican Church should be admitted in our assembly. The _former_ involves the appointment of prudent political men; the _latter_ provides for the security of religious, pious persons sustaining any injury from us; tending, moreover, to the abatement of disaffection as respects both communities, and to their mutual benefit and salvation. I, therefore, earnestly desire the accomplishment of the design.

“What evil, in the mean time, could ensue if the whole Book of Prayers of the Anglican Church should occasionally be used in public; not at this time as prayers, but as text; and an explanation occasionally given as to the passages which, with us, may seem to require some explanation? Certain exceedingly grand portions of sacred Scripture which are intermingled with these may, in this service, be omitted as being beyond all dispute; and so, in six or eight prelections, or short discourses, the whole may be finished. The service may, with propriety, be preceded by some such introduction as the following:

“Inasmuch as we and some other nurslings of the Anglican Church, who have embraced the spiritual aid of the Moravian Brethren, yet certainly with no design, by so doing, of departing from our own proper religion; being, however, in such situation, it manifestly follows that we constitute an assembly which is extraordinary and extra-parochial, being _ecclesiastically_ made up out of various parishes; and that we, moreover, have a sacred place of meeting, which certainly is not a parish church; consequently many will immediately conclude that we are now of a different mind, and that we have altogether forsaken the Anglican Church. Such, however, would be an erroneous opinion. That we constitute such a society or assembly as we have mentioned, arises from our desire to exercise that salutary and vigorous discipline which the Anglican Church pants for; but, by reason of its exceeding magnitude, cannot maintain; that we have a place in which we assemble, and a pulpit, arises from our delight in hearing the principal doctrine respecting the death and grace of our Redeemer more clearly and more fully enunciated there than can in these times be expected elsewhere, notwithstanding the same doctrine is maintained in the primary article of the Anglican Church. There is, therefore, no reason why we should be offended with the Church of our fatherland; and let it not so tenaciously disallow to us those superadded aids for our benefit and edification which we now enjoy, and nothing will be more agreeable to us than (provided these be preserved with a good conscience) henceforward still to preserve with it the bond of unity. For we are able to do so both openly and sincerely. In testimony of this, we are prepared to adopt in our assemblies the Liturgy or Common Prayers of the Anglican Church. But, because, as we are informed, the use of the Anglican Liturgy, beyond the ordinary churches, will either be unlawful, or, at least, exceedingly offensive; and as a kind of secret disaffection, rather than amity, might arise therefrom with those whom, from the most sincere respect, we would not injure even in the least, we must therefore defer the adoption of this Liturgy, in our _proseucha_ or house of prayer, until full liberty of using it be granted to us by those who have the authority. In the meantime, however, in order to its being made manifest that what we have asserted is true, that union with the Church of our fatherland is possible, since no violence is thereby done to our conscience (providing there be left to us discipline and evangelization, neither one nor the other of which being opposed to the Anglican Church; nay, perhaps, more closely allied to it than some imagine),—let us proceed to examine in due order the whole liturgy of the Anglican Church. As to what others, who, diverging into sects, have departed from the Anglican fold, may have to object to this Liturgy I shall take no notice, for they and we are neither affected nor aggrieved by the same things. But, throughout this examination I shall make it my special care to omit nothing which can, in accordance with our light and principles, or indeed ever can, occasion any obstacle to any one of us. To such passages I shall assign that sense and exposition which I judge to have been, and to be, the true meaning; and, unless I am deceived, such will be found neither grievous nor unreasonable to the mind which is imbued with the dearer knowledge and love of the Saviour.’

“I have run out further than is suitable for an introduction; but, as if carefully reviewing the whole matter in question, I have been imagining what effect would result from the procedure: the same that you also desire through the means of a _Tropus_, only more feebly and less constant. But why, in any degree, less constant? Because it is sufficiently constant, considering the novelty of the measure. Such a declaration would sink into the memory, and would be preserved by all as a memorial of the true mind and will of the Brethren.

“Your most respectful son, and desiring to be excused, though some should prate beyond their measure,

“JOHN GAMBOLD”.[131]

This long and tiresome letter is not without its use. For eight years, Gambold had been a Moravian; he was in the vigour of his manhood; but his mode of thinking and style of writing were not improved; nay, had become as murky as the religious clouds in which he lived. Besides, he was only eleven years the junior of Zinzendorf, and was naturally and scholastically his equal, if not his superior; and, yet, contaminated by the sycophancy of his associates, Gambold, the Oxford student, the learned mystic, the dramatic poet, condescends to use the offensive twaddle then so common, and must needs address the ambitious foreigner as “Papa,” and “Most dear and paternal Heart.” Think of Wesley, or even of Ingham, employing such epithets as these! The manliness of the man was being dwarfed by the fooleries of his friends.

But, apart from this, Gambold’s letter is a curious production, and not without interest at the present day, as containing a scheme for a kind of amalgamation of some of the Moravians with the Established Church. The Moravians differed from the Methodists; for Zinzendorf, at the very Synod held immediately after the date of Gambold’s letter, formally announced that the English Moravians were “now openly in the eye of the world acknowledged to be a Church;” whereas Wesley, to the day of his death, denied this distinction to the Methodists, affirming, in the strongest terms, that the Methodists were not a Church, but only _Societies within_ a Church. Thus, the position of the two communities was different. To be consistent, the Methodists might have claimed, and, indeed, ought to have claimed, membership with some existing Church, beyond the circle of the Society enclosure; but, according to Zinzendorf and the London Synod of 1749, the Moravians were themselves a Church; and, hence, for any Moravian, like Gambold, to profess himself a member of the Anglican Church, was, in point of fact, to claim to be a member of two Churches instead of one. This was a grave inconsistency; but, in accordance with Gambold’s suggestions, an attempt was made to carry it into effect.

The proposed Synod met in London, in September, 1749; and “the Most Reverend Thomas Wilson, Bishop of Sodor and Man,” already in the eighty-sixth year of his age, with great formality, and with a pomp of language almost startling, was “chosen into the order and number of the Anetecessors of the General Synod of the Brethren of the Anatolic Unity.” It was also decreed further, “that, the aforesaid Most Reverend Prelate ought to be offered the administration of the Reformed tropus in our hierarchy for life, with full liberty, in case of _emergency_, to employ, as his substitute, the Rev. Thomas Wilson, Royal Almoner, Doctor of Theology, and Prebendary of St. Peter’s, Westminster.”

The good old Bishop, with joy and thankfulness, accepted the office to which the Moravians had elected him;[132] and, thus, Gambold and Zinzendorf succeeded in securing the patronage of an English Prelate. Practically, the arrangement was of little use, perhaps of none at all. Five years afterwards, the venerable and pious Bishop was gathered to his fathers, at the age of ninety-one.

Moravianism and its illustrious “Papa” had now arrived at the zenith of their offensive ambition. It would be useless, and also far from pleasant, to disinter the history of the Moravian Brotherhood at this important crisis. A few of the facts have been mentioned in Ingham’s Memoir; and nothing more need now be added, except, that, while Zinzendorf was almost idolatrously honoured by the Moravians themselves, he was the subject of severe but just attacks outside the pale of his own community. Prudently, though perhaps somewhat arrogantly, he generally declined to defend himself, partly on the ground that royalty always acted thus; but he found it desirable to do something else which was almost tantamount to this. In this same year, 1749, he published, in his own private printing-office, a folio volume of 184 pages, entitled, “Acta Fratrum Unitatis in Angliâ, 1749;” the whole of which, with the exception of the sixth section of the second part, was translated or edited by Gambold. The first part of this curious work consists entirely of Acts of Parliament and Reports of Parliamentary Committees in reference to the Brethren, together with original documents adduced as proofs of the propositions which had been made. The second part embraces:—1. A paraphrase of the twenty-one Articles of the Confession of Augsburg; 2. The Brethren’s method of preaching the Gospel according to the Synod of Berne; 3. The Moravian Litany; 4. Extracts from the Minutes of Moravian Synods; 5. Zinzendorf’s _Rationale_ of the Brethren’s Liturgies; 6. Original passages from the writings of the early fathers of the Church, and of theologians of the middle ages.

This was not the only service which Gambold rendered to Zinzendorf and the Moravians. On June 4, 1750, he sent to Spangenberg a long letter, which was afterwards published in a pamphlet, with the title, “An Essay towards giving some just ideas of the personal character of Count Zinzendorf, the present Advocate and Ordinary of the Brethren’s Church: In several Letters wrote by Eye-Witnesses. Published by James Hutton, late of Westminster, and now of Chelsea. London, 1755.” 8vo. Gambold’s letter is too long for insertion here; but throughout it is a vindication of the Count,—the best doubtless that Gambold could supply,—and a few extracts may be useful:—

“There are a great number of thinking persons, who, if the bear-skin could be taken off from the Brethren, would directly be well satisfied with that somewhat extraordinary, but yet reasonable, zeal for the fundamentals of Christianity, which, after all, is the Brethren’s whole mystery and peculiarity.”

“The Brethren’s Church has, at present, an illustrious nobleman both for her Advocate and Ordinary; and most of the hard imputations cast upon her by her antagonists are levelled against him, and either arise from or imply a misunderstanding of his true character. He is an _extraordinary_ person or genius, and, as such, requires to be looked at in a particular point of view, if one will avoid error. I will, therefore, do nothing else but set down to that end some remarks which occur to me, from ten or eleven years’ acquaintance with him.”

“Count Zinzendorf has in him something unlike other people. But what is it? A very tender and deep-rooted _love to our blessed Redeemer_, and the highest and most _honourable conceptions of His atonement_. He willingly believes, as the New Testament supposes, that the bitter sufferings of the Saviour are alone able to _enervate_, as well as atone for sin; and the contemplation and influence of His tormented person, to effect our _sanctification_ in all its branches. And all the hearty expressions to the honour of Jesus, that are found in ancient Hymns, or Meditations of pious Divines, (which, because mankind do not always keep up to the same strain of truth, are unjustly looked upon as flights and raptures), are with him serious principles.”

“Some have censured him for introducing, or suffering to be introduced, some new _Phrases_, and delivering assertions which have the look of _Paradoxes_; but these Phrases and Paradoxes, when examined to the bottom, are orthodox; and, if not _verbatim_ used in former ages, are, at least, parallel to the always received theological language; and, upon some occasions, are necessary, and happily effectual, to set people a-thinking, and to recover in their minds the full idea belonging to many terms and sayings over which they, by frequent repetition, have fallen asleep, and forgot the force and import of them. In the same view, he also likes very much to translate the Scriptures in a free, round manner, and in modern words.”

“The same jealousy to keep the word of God from being robbed of its energy, has led him to oppose another abuse. Many pious people, though not sleepy and unmoved by the words they repeat, yet amidst their best emotion, have only vague and indeterminate ideas, nor can it be known precisely what they mean. Now, though a dealer in mere metaphors and allegories may be a very good soul, yet, it is not for the honour of God, that its doctrine should rest upon such a foundation; but all its assertions must rather be literally ascertainable realities, in the same manner as physical ones are, upon a nearer experience; and this is the motive of his bringing spiritual matters to a point, under a clothing and illustration somewhat _philosophical_, for a season, until the supposition that those matters are only something _shadowy_, and not substance, is exploded.”

“His original design was purely to preach and recommend his Saviour to mankind at large, wherever he could find audience. It was wholly accidental, and by him unsought, that he has been entrusted with the direction of a particular Church. However others may look upon the occurrences in the Brethren’s congregation, _he_ is always deeply struck with _reverence_ for our Saviour’s immediate guidance of, and benediction over the whole, which occasions his using, sometimes about things which others may account small or common, that _magnificence_ of expression which is observable in him. The same tender attention to his Master’s mind and order, renders him sometimes, when he apprehends any deviation therefrom, more _vehement_ in his manner, than is incident to those who have not zeal enough ever to be constrained in spirit. Upon this account, he has been thought magisterial; but very unjustly, for, abstracting from the fervour, which, in an agony of faithfulness, he may at such times discover, he is ready to be informed by any one, distrustful of himself, extremely moderate towards those against whom he may be expected to be sharp, and not at all fond of power.

“Further, from a long experience in regard to congregations, he sometimes delivers his opinion about the method of carrying on the Gospel work in a very systematical manner, implying, one might think, a great deal of _policy_; but, when his counsels are traced to their first idea, they are always an inculcation of one or other of the known maxims of our Saviour, with only a more direct application to special and present cases than is common.

“He is deeply persuaded of the blessed ends attained by gathering some of the children of God together into such little _congregations_ as he has the care of; but he is also fully convinced, not only that there are many more of God’s children remaining scattered in the several _Christian parties_ and societies; but even that the establishments, confessions, forms of worship, etc., in those societies, have a blessed effect for the salvation of such. For which reason, if the hearts on all sides did but permit things to go according to his mind, the souls who are quickened to spiritual life, even through the necessity of the Brethren, should, notwithstanding, remain generally in the communion and way they had been brought up in, without the least affront or infringement offered thereto.

“His _noble_ way of thinking, in several other particulars, will not so much recommend him at first sight, as expose him to censure; but noble it is, however, and will be found best in the end. He is against using any _compulsion_ with hearts, who ought to be led by the love of the Saviour, and by a new nature; and is endeavouring to bring the discipline of the congregation to such a temperature, as that it may assist a work of grace where it is, but not mimic it where it is not. In pursuance of which principle, he rather tolerates (with secret grief and employing only distant hints), several unessential faults of those about him, than correct them with detriment to the ingenuity of spirit. These faults are charged upon him; as for instance, a few ill-judged flights of spiritual joy and cheerfulness, which he discerned to be such from the beginning, but would not retrench them, because they would not subside of themselves; and the _true_ Christian gaiety of spirit is too valuable a jewel to hazard the breaking of it, by a rough blow in the polishing. So far goes the generosity of his conceptions, that he is resolved to drop the whole fabric of the congregation, if ever the life and spirit should be found to have left it. No wonder, then, that he insists upon adapting the outward worship, from time to time, to the inward state of the members; so that the Liturgy, from honesty and not from fickleness, is capable of many _progressive gradations_, and even of _retrogradations_, rather than fall into hypocrisy.

“In short, the person I have been speaking of is a plain man, who proceeds straight forward; and, amidst all the richness of his active and extensive genius, will always be serving and inculcating one only point, namely, the _meritorious sufferings of our Creator_,—a point by which alone Christians are distinguished from Deists.”

How far this serves as a vindication or apology, the reader must form his own opinion; but it exhibits the fidelity of Gambold to his German leader, and also indicates some of the principles which Gambold himself entertained at this period of his history.

Gambold did more than this for the censured Zinzendorf. In 1751, a five shillings volume was published, with the title, “Maxims, Theological Ideas, and Sentences, out of the present Ordinary of the Brethren’s Dissertations and Discourses, from the year 1738 to 1747. Extracted by John Gambold, M.A. 8vo.” In his Preface, Gambold writes:—

“Every one has heard, in some light or other, this _noble person’s_ name mentioned. To judge _impartially_ of him, we are to look back at what he has preached in a course of several years, especially since the _discourses_, by their nature and circumstances, were such a _free out-pouring of his heart_.”

To this there could be no objection; but it may be doubted whether Gambold’s extracts were as _impartial_ as he wished them to be regarded.

In 1753, Gambold rendered another service to the Count, by the publication of “The Ordinary’s Remarks upon the manner of his being treated in Controversy. Translated from the High-Dutch, with a Preface, by John Gambold, Minister of the Moravian Chapel in Fetter Lane.”

And shortly after this, in 1754, Gambold issued, “A Modest Plea for the Church of the Brethren,” of which publication, Lavington, Bishop of Exeter, wrote:—

“The whole drift of this pamphlet is to commend their sect in _general_ terms, without answering any one _accusation_ brought against them.”[133]

Lavington was a bitter antagonist, and what he says must be received with caution; but still, the very title of Gambold’s production indicates that the Brethren’s Church was hardly perfect.

More than this. In 1754, was published the largest hymn-book in the English language: “A Collection of Hymns of the Children of God in all Ages, from the Beginning till now. In two Parts. Designed chiefly for the Use of the Congregations in Union with the Brethren’s Church.” Two Volumes, pp. 380, and 390.[134] 8vo. Zinzendorf projected this; but Gambold was his chief editor.[135] The Preface, which probably was Gambold’s production, contains the following description of the Brotherhood:—

“The Brethren’s grand topic, in their hymns, as every one may see, is the Person and Propitiation of Jesus Christ. They collect, as in the _focus_ of a burning glass, what has descended to them from past ages, or properly from the Bible itself, upon this head; and, that it may not be evaded under the notion of _dicta ardentia_, they present it in a system, and apply that system to practice. They affirm our free acceptance with God as sinners, and through pure grace, and yet the necessity of, and powerful assistances for, a most real holiness of life afterwards, with such a warmth, upon each of these subjects successively, that many a reader runs away with the supposition of their over-doing on that side he happened to take notice of, for want of waiting the balance. They cherish, as an hereditary platform from their ancestors, a very high persuasion of, and very strict rules concerning, a New Testament Church. To mention but one peculiarity more, they continually betray a burning propensity to the work of propagating the Gospel of peace. If any one finds more things uttered in this spirit, than he can make application of in his sphere, let him remember that these are a people, very many of whose members have such a call. Above a hundred of them have already consumed and laid down their mortal tabernacles in ministering the Gospel to the heathen.”

The last statement is remarkable, and greatly to the honour of the Brethren’s Church, especially when it is remembered that only thirty years had elapsed since the Church was founded at Herrnhuth, in Germany.

From these brief notices of his literary labours, it will be seen, that, Gambold was a faithful, unflinching friend of the illustrious Count. The English Moravians were passing through the terrible crisis already mentioned in the Memoir of Ingham. They were nearly wrecked; and not undeservedly. Ingham left them; but Gambold did his utmost to defend them; and, as the chief English member of their community, was ordained a “_Chor-Episcopus_,” in other words, an Assistant Bishop. The ceremony took place at a Synod, held at Lindsey House, London, in November, 1754; and was performed by Bishops Watteville, and John and David Nitschmann.[136]

Little more remains to be told of this sincere and devoted man. For seventeen years, he wore the honours of his office “with humility and diffidence.” The writer of the Memoir, prefixed to Gambold’s works, remarks:—

“Such a Bishop would have justly been esteemed an honour to any Church, whether ancient or modern, if disinterestedness of spirit, humility of mind, devotion of heart, a benevolent disposition towards all men, and a voluntary submission to the service, not only of the Church in general, but of every member thereof, though in the most inferior situation, be the proper qualifications and distinguished ornaments of the Christian Episcopacy.”

It has been already stated, that, of the thousands of sermons which Gambold preached, during the thirty-eight years of his Christian ministry, only two were printed. One of these was delivered, before the University of Oxford, in 1741; the other, in Fetter Lane Chapel, London, on a National Fast Day, in 1756.

At the latter period, the nation was in a state of great excitement and alarm. War with France was inevitable. February 6, 1756, was observed as a day of humiliation and prayer. Such a fast in London had not been seen since the Restoration. Business was suspended; and churches and chapels everywhere were crowded. Gambold’s sermon was founded upon the text, “Tremble, thou Earth, at the presence of the Lord;” and, when published, was entitled, “The Reasonableness and Extent of Religious Reverence.” Though somewhat metaphysical in its style, and mode of reasoning, it displays ability, and is worth perusing.

So far as is known, there are only two other works with the publication of which Gambold was connected.[137] One was a beautiful and comprehensive Catechism, of about sixty pages, 12mo, published in the year 1765, with the title, “A Short Summary of Christian Doctrine, in the Way of Question and Answer: The Answers being all made in the sound and venerable Words of the Common Prayer Book of the Church of England. To which are added, Some Extracts out of the Homilies. Collected for the Service of a few Persons, Members of the _Established Church_; but imagined not to be unuseful to others.” Two facts are made manifest by this publication; namely, that, Gambold’s creed was orthodox; and that, notwithstanding his Moravian bishopric, he had still a warm affection for the Church of England.

The other book, referred to above, was Cranz’s History of Greenland. This was, in the first instance, published in Germany; but the General Synod of 1765, directed that it should be translated into English; and a great part of the translation, and the whole of the editing was devolved upon Gambold. The work was published, in London, in 1767, with the following title: “The History of Greenland: containing a Description of the Country and its Inhabitants; and particularly a Relation of the Mission carried on, for above thirty years, by the Unitas Fratrum at New Herrnhuth and Lichtenfels, in that Country. By David Cranz. Translated from the High Dutch; and illustrated with Maps and other Copperplates. London, 1767. Printed for the Brethren’s Society for the Furtherance of the Gospel among the Heathen.” 8vo; vol. i., pp. 405; vol. ii., pp. 497.

About eighty copies were distributed among the nobility and gentry, for the purpose of enlightening them respecting the Moravian Mission; and the writer of the Memoirs of James Hutton, says:—

“Although the work, in a pecuniary sense, was by no means profitable; yet, the distribution of the copies among the higher ranks, produced the happiest effects, by removing the prejudice which had been excited in the public mind, through the writings of the Bishop of Exeter, and others.”

For ten years after his episcopal ordination, Gambold resided chiefly in London, employing himself in every branch of service for the congregation settled there, and in regular correspondence with all his fellow-labourers of the same communion throughout England.

In 1760, the death of Zinzendorf occurred; and four years later, a General Synod was held at Marienborn, which Gambold attended. Besides Himself, there were present, eleven bishops, forty-six presbyters, deacons, and lay-elders, and thirty-seven deputies from different congregations. It was opened, with great solemnity, on the 1st of July, and continued its deliberations, by several adjournments, in forty-four sessions, till the 29th of August.

Ten years had elapsed since the last General Synod; and, hence, many and momentous were the questions that had to be considered. Their sphere of labour had been considerably enlarged, especially in heathen countries. There had been the long and embittered controversy in England. Some of their Settlements had been disturbed and injured by the existing war. Zinzendorf, their chief, had died; and the debt of the Brethren’s Church amounted to the alarming sum of £150,000.[138] It is unnecessary to enter into the details of this important Conference. Suffice it to say, that, from this period, Moravianism became a purer, healthier, and more scriptural thing than it had been before.

Gambold secured the respect and love of the Brethren composing this General Synod; and was in a position to be of greater service to his community than ever. His work, however, was nearly ended. After the sessions of the Synod were concluded, he returned to London, where he continued to reside till 1768, when he was seized with “a dropsical asthma,” from which his sufferings were such, that his friends, who were about him, apprehended that every day would be his last. Hoping to be benefited by the change, he removed to his native air; and, for a time, there were flickering hopes of amended health. Wishing to render himself useful to the Brethren’s Church at Haverfordwest, he exerted his failing energies to the utmost. As far as he was able, he visited the sick, and poor, and tried to comfort them in their distresses. When he could, he preached; his last text being “Set your affections on things above.” When not able to preach in public, he explained the Scriptures in private, and held fellowship with his Christian friends. His work was done; and it only remains to see how the Oxford Methodist, and Moravian Bishop died.

In a letter dated October 11, 1770, after stating that his asthma was so relieved that he could now lie down in bed, and obtain a little sleep, he continued:—

“I ought to be thankful for every mitigation of pain; but it becomes, I think, plainer than ever, that I have a real attack of the dropsy, which whether I shall get the better of it, or it, by and by, get the better of me, is a question. I totter on my legs, and, though I look pretty well, yet there are few intervals in the day wherein I have anything like strength either of body or mind. However, I set no bounds to my Saviour’s power, if He sees it good to continue me here a little longer; but it is hardly to be any more expected in my case. I really do all I can to support my impaired constitution, and walk, most days, a little in the chapel or burying-ground, till I am ready to drop down. All that I can properly desire of my gracious Lord is, that, He would be merciful to me an unworthy sinner, wash me from all my unfaithfulness and transgressions in His blood, keep me in communion with Himself and His people, help me to behave rightly, at least not offensively, in my sickness, and be perceptibly near to me in my last hour, whenever it is to be.”

In another letter, dated July 28, 1771, he wrote:—

“The writing of the few lines before the present, was the work of several days, attended with more difficulty and pain than any one is able to conceive, who does not feel what I have suffered. But to complain is disagreeable to me. The constant prayer of my heart, most tenderly united with yours, is for the welfare and prosperity of the Church of God, and especially that part of it which is the immediate object of our care. May our faithful and best Friend, who purchased it with His blood, and is the supreme Head thereof, so defend His people amidst all opposition, and support His servants who labour in the word and doctrine, and have the general charge over His house, that the several members of it may increase in faith, hope, and love, to their comfort and joy.

“With respect to myself, if I may judge from what I feel, I can think no otherwise than that I am very near the end of my course. Therefore, all my prayers are centred in this, that my gracious Lord may wash me, a sinner, in His blood, and abide always near me, especially in my last extremity.”

The last time that he attended the public celebration of the Lord’s Supper, was only five days before his death. At the conclusion of it, weak and wasted as he was, he commenced singing a verse of praise and thanksgiving, and the impression produced was such, that the whole congregation began to weep.

From the nature of his disease, it was seldom he could sleep; but he was always patient and confiding. “All He does is well done,” said he; “let us only look to Him, and the end will be blessed.” He was deeply thankful for the kind offices of his friends, and especially for those of his loving wife, who nursed him, in every stage of his illness, with the greatest tenderness. Just before the close of all his sufferings, he was heard to pray: “Dear Saviour! remember my poor name, and come, come soon!” His prayer was answered. Shortly after these words were uttered, he peacefully expired, on September 13, 1771, leaving behind him, besides his widow, two children, a son and a daughter, to lament their loss.[139]

Gambold, like Wesley, wrote an epitaph on himself; and, as it is a fair specimen of the better class of his poetical productions, it is here subjoined:—

“Ask not, who ended here his span? His name, reproach, and praise, was—Man. Did no great deeds adorn his course No deed of his, but show’d him worse! One thing was great, which God supplied, He suffered human life,—and died. What points of knowledge did he gain? That life was sacred all,—and vain; Sacred, how high? and vain, how low? He knew not here, but died to know.”

Though Bishop Gambold was a man of great learning, and of extensive reading, especially in the early writings of the Christian Church, he himself was not a voluminous author. Excepting his translations, and the works he merely edited, all that he published of his own were two sermons; his Short Summary of Christian Doctrine; a few Prefaces; and some brief Hymns and Poems. In this respect, he differed widely from his old friend Wesley. Then again, though an able and effective preacher, his pulpit exercises were almost entirely confined to the small village of Stanton-Harcourt, and the Brethren’s Chapel in Fetter Lane, London. In this also, he differed, not only from Wesley, but from Whitefield. Still, it would be incorrect to say, that his life, to a great extent, was a useless one. Wesley, after publishing one of Gambold’s poetic pieces, is reported to have said: “And this light was buried _under a bushel_! How might he have enlightened all Christendom!”[140] We scarcely concur in this. Gambold, notwithstanding his learning and his piety, was constitutionally too timorous and retiring to be the man to enlighten all Christendom; but, at the same time, he was of such service to the Moravian Church, that, it is an extravagance to say, “his light was buried under a bushel.” With all its weaknesses, follies, and faults, at the beginning of its history, the Moravian Brotherhood set a Christian and heroic example to other Churches, in its missions to the heathen; and the man who chiefly helped to edify, purify, improve, and perpetuate such a community, did no mean service to the cause of the Divine Redeemer. Gambold’s poetry has been over-estimated by Methodist and Moravian writers; and, perhaps also, his natural ability and learning; but all must admit, that he was an exceedingly devout and earnest Christian; and that, though he might, for a season, be somewhat tainted with the religious lusciousness of the early Moravian society, his moral character, from first to last, was without a speck.

Perhaps it ought to be added, that, a beautiful portrait of Gambold was painted by Abraham Louis Brandt, an earnest and laborious Moravian minister, and that an exquisite engraving from the original picture was prefixed to Gambold’s works, when first published in 1789.

REV. JAMES HERVEY, M.A., THE LITERARY PARISH-PRIEST.

James Hervey, with great appropriateness, was designated by Charles Wesley, the “Isocrates” of the Oxford Methodists.[141] The old Greek rhetorician was not an orator; the weakness of his voice and his natural timidity prevented that; but the polish of his style in writing and the harmonious construction of his sentences obtained for him a fame which seems to be undying. And so in regard to Hervey. He lacked Whitefield’s eloquence, and Wesley’s constructive faculty; but he had a peculiar mental quality, which invested his productions with an air of gracefulness beyond the power of either of his friends to imitate. Critics, great and small, genuine and pretentious, have condemned Hervey’s style; and yet, notwithstanding this, few books have passed through more editions than his have done; and, after the lapse of a hundred years since their author’s death, few are greater favourites at the present day. Why is this? Perhaps some of his censors can answer the question.

James Hervey, like the Wesleys and Gambold, was the son of a country clergyman. He was born at Hardingstone, near Northampton, on the 26th of February, 1714; his father holding the two neighbouring livings of Weston-Favel and Collingtree. His ancestors appear to have been highly respectable. One of them was a judge; another had been member of Parliament for the town of Northampton; and the patronage of the above-mentioned livings had been, for many years, in the possession of the family.

Until the age of seven, Hervey was under the tuition of his mother. He then became a day-scholar in the free grammar school at Northampton, where he displayed great dexterity in the usual gymnastic exercises of boys like himself; and where, in the course of ten years, he learned enough of the Latin and Greek languages, to enable him to matriculate at the Oxford University. His progress, however, would probably have been greater than what it was, had it not been for the execrable conduct of his master, who determined that no one in the school should learn faster than his own stupid son. “Hervey himself told me,” says Mr. Ryland, “that his master never made but one remark in reading the Greek Testament, and that was a very foolish one.”

When only a boy, seventeen years of age, Hervey, full of youthful frolic, left the quietude of his father’s house for the animated scenes, the high advantages, and peculiar dangers of collegiate life. It was something infinitely more sacred than an accident which led to his admission into Lincoln College, where Wesley was a fellow and a tutor, and where, for the last two years, the Methodists had frequently held their meetings.[142]

The effects of the idleness enforced upon him at the Northampton free grammar school, were felt at Oxford. It was difficult for a sprightly and clever boy, like Hervey, to lay aside, all at once, the unstudious habits of the last ten years, and to devote himself, with unflagging earnestness, to the academical pursuits which now demanded his attention. For two years, from 1731 to 1733, he was idle at Oxford, as he had been obliged to be idle at Northampton. At the end of that time, he became acquainted with the Methodists, and distinguished himself, as they also did, by his devotion to the duties of religion, and to his collegiate studies. Wesley rendered him considerable assistance, especially by giving him instructions in the Hebrew language.

“Oxon, Sept. 2, 1736. I hereby thank you, as for all other favours, so especially for teaching me Hebrew.”

Thus wrote Hervey, at the age of twenty-two, when he had taken his degree of Bachelor of Arts, and was leaving the university to enter upon the duties of the Christian ministry. Eleven years afterwards, when in the midst of the fame arising from the recent publication of his “Meditations among the Tombs,” etc., he wrote to Wesley another letter:—

“WESTON, NEAR NORTHAMPTON, _December 30, 1747_.

“Assure yourself, dear sir, that I can never forget the tender-hearted and generous Fellow of Lincoln, who condescended to take such compassionate notice of a poor under-graduate, whom almost everybody condemned; and when no man cared for my soul.”[143]

Here we pause, to take a glance at Hervey during his five years’ residence at Oxford. John Gambold, writing of him, while he was still at college, says:—

“He is a man of surprising greatness of soul; and, if you look for his virtues, you will not be able to discover them one by one, but you will see that he walks before God with a reverence and alacrity which includes them all.”[144]

Hervey became one of the Oxford Methodists in 1733, when he was only nineteen years of age. In the same year, he wrote as follows to his sister:—

“LINCOLN COLLEGE, OXON, _Sept. 16, 1733_.

“DEAR SISTER,—Was there any occasion to apologize for the serious purport of this, it would be sufficient to direct you to the date,[145] and the time of its inditing, but I promise myself, that, to you anything of this nature will be unnecessary; for, though we are in the very prime and spring of our years, strongly disposed to admire, and perfectly capacitated to relish the gaieties of youth, yet we have been inured to moderate the warmth of our appetites, accustomed to anticipate in our minds the days of darkness, and incessantly disciplined into a remembrance of our Creator. For my part, I find no season so proper to address one of the principal sharers of my heart, one of my nearest and dearest relations, as that I have at present chose and made use of, when either an universal silence composes the soul, and calms every turbulent emotion, or the voice of joy and gladness, speaking through celestial music, invites to adore the wonders of our Redeemer’s love, touches upon the strings of the softest passions, and inspires the most sweet, most tender sentiments.

“As I was the other day traversing the fields in quest of health, I observed that they had lost that profusion of fragrant odours which once perfumed the air, and were disrobed of that rich variety of curious dyes which surpassed even Solomon in all his glory. Not a single flower appears to gladden the sight, to bespangle the ground, or enamel the barren landscape. The clouds, that recently distilled in dews of honey, or poured themselves forth in showers of fatness, now combine in torrents to overflow the lifeless earth, and to bury or sweep away all the faint footsteps of ancient beauty. The hills, that were crowned with corn the valleys that laughed and sung under loads of golden grain, in a word, the whole face of nature, that so lately rejoiced for the abundance of her plenty, is become bare, naked, and disconsolate. As I was continuing my walk, and musing on this joyless scene, methought, the sudden change exhibited a lively picture of our frail and transitory state; methought, every object that occurred seemed silently to forewarn me of my own future condition.

“I dwelt on these considerations till they fermented in my fancy, and worked themselves out in such-like expressions: ‘What! must we undergo so grievous an alteration? We, whose sprightly blood circulates in brightest tides? We, who are the favourites of time, on whom youth, and health, and strength, shed their selectest influence? We, who are so apt to look upon ourselves as exempt from cares, or pains, or troubles, and privileged to drink in the sweets of life without restraint, without alloy? Must we forego the sunshine of our enjoyments for anything resembling this melancholy gloom? Must the sparkling eye set in haggard dimness? the lovely features and glowing cheeks be obscured by pale deformity? Must soft and gay desires be banished from our breasts, or mirth and jollity from our conversation? Must the vigour of our age fall away like water that runneth apace, and the blissful minutes of the prime of our years vanish like a dream? If this be our case, in vain do we boast of our superior felicity. In vain do we glory in being the darlings of heaven. The inanimate creation droop indeed, sicken and languish, for a time; but quickly revive, rejoice, and again shine forth in their brightest lustre. It is true, they relinquish, at the approach of winter, their verdant honours; but rest fully assured of receiving them with interest from the succeeding spring. But man, when he has passed the autumn of his maturity,—when he has once resigned himself into the cold embraces of age,—bids a long, an eternal adieu to all that is entertaining, amiable, or endearing. No pleasing expectations refresh his mind; not the least dawnings of hope glimmer in to qualify the darksome looking-for of Death.’

“I had not long indulged these bitter reflections before I espied a remedy for those sore evils which occasioned them. Though I perceived all our passionate delights to be vanity, and the issue of them vexation of spirit; yet I saw, likewise, that virtue was substantial, and her fruits joy and peace;—that, though all things come to an end, the ways of wisdom were exceeding broad. The seeds of piety, if implanted in our tender breasts, duly cherished, and constantly cultivated, will bud and blossom even in the winter of our days; and, when white and red shall be no more,—when all the outward embellishments of our little fabric shall disappear,—this will still flourish in immortal bloom.

“To walk humbly with our God, dutifully with our parents, and charitably with all, will be an inexhaustible source of never-ceasing comforts. What, though we shall sometimes be unable to hear the voice of singing men and singing women,—though all the senses prove false to their trust, and refuse to be any longer inlets of pleasure,—it is now, dear sister, it is now in our power to make such happy provisions as even then, in those forlorn circumstances, may charm our memories with ravishing recollections, and regale all our faculties with the continual feast of an applauding conscience. What sweet complacency, what unspeakable satisfaction shall we reap from the contemplation of an uninterrupted series of spotless actions! No present uneasiness will prompt us impatiently to wish for our dissolution, nor anxious fears for futurity make us immoderately dread the impending stroke. All will be calm, easy, and serene. All will be soothed by this precious, this invaluable thought, that, by reason of the meekness, the innocence, the purity, and other Christian graces which adorned the several stages of our progress through the world, our names and our ashes will be embalmed; the chambers of our tomb consecrated into a paradise of rest; and our souls, white as our locks, by an easy transition, become angels of light.

“I am, with love to my brother, dear sister, your most affectionate brother,

“JAMES HERVEY.”

This letter has been inserted without abridgment, 1. Because, it evinces, that, even while in his teens, Hervey cultivated that flowingly harmonious style, which was one of the chief characteristics of all his publications. And, 2. Because, it is thoroughly unevangelical, and, in spirit, such as might be naturally expected from an Oxford Methodist seeking salvation by his own good works. 3. It was written at the time when Hervey first united himself with Wesley and his Pharisaic friends.

There are several other letters, written during the years of Hervey’s collegiate life; but, for want of space, they can be only sparingly employed:—

(To his sister.)

“LINCOLN COLLEGE, OXON, _March 28, 1734_.

“DEAR SISTER,—My fancy has often took its flight to Hardingstone, and delighted itself with the imaginary conversation of you and my other dear relatives. I have frequently recollected, and, as it were, acted over again in my mind the many pleasing hours we have spent together in reading holy and edifying books, or discoursing on pious and useful subjects.

“There is great reason for congratulation, on account of your being so choice a favourite of heaven, as your frequent sicknesses, and often infirmities speak you to be. How does the goodness of our gracious Father endeavour, by the repeated, though lightest, strokes of His rod, to cure whatever is disordered, to rectify whatever is amiss in you! Do not then hold out against these kind calls to repentance; but suffer yourself, by this loving correction, to be made great;—great in humility, holiness, and happiness. Humble yourself under the mighty hand of God; and, by a hearty sorrow for your past faults, and a firm resolution of obedience for the future, let this fatherly chastisement bring forth in you the peaceable fruits of righteousness.”

All good, so far as it goes, especially from a youth of twenty; but not a word of Christ, or of being saved by His mediatorial merits, and by the exercise of faith in Him.

His sister wished him to turn poet; but, instead of writing poetry himself, he sent her “The Last Day,” by Dr. Young; and wrote as follows:—

“LINCOLN COLLEGE, OXON, _May 2, 1734_.

“DEAR SISTER,—I scarcely know any human composition more likely to improve and edify, at the same time that it diverts and delights, than this poem of “The Last Day.” If you would please yourself, refine your taste, or have the practice of religion pleasing, instead of plays, ballads, and other corrupt writings, read this almost Divine piece of poetry;—read it (as I have done), over and over; think upon it; endeavour to digest it thoroughly; and even to get by heart the most moving passages: and then, I trust, you will find it answer the ends I purpose in sending it.

“You will excuse me from exercising my poetical talent; because, I perceive, such an attempt will be either very absurd, or very dangerous. For, should I tack together a few doggerel rhymes, this would be an affront to you; whereas, should I succeed so well as to gain the applause of my reader, this, I am sure, would portend very great harm, if not to you, yet, most certainly, to me. For what can portend greater harm than the words of praise, which, though smoother than oil, yet, are very swords? What can be more destructive of that humble mind which was in Christ Jesus,—that meek and lowly spirit which is in the sight of God of great price? I am so far from carrying on my versifying designs, that, I heartily wish I had never conceived any; and that those lines I sent to my cousin had either never been made, or that I had never heard them commended. Pride and vanity are foolish and unreasonable in dust and ashes; and, which is worse, odious and detestable before infinite perfection and infinite power.”

The next are extracts from a long letter, of six octavo pages, entirely on the Christian eucharist, and addressed to Whitefield:—

“OXON, _July 29, 1735_.

“DEAR SIR,—Is the sacrament indeed administered at one or other of your churches every Sunday? Sure then the lot is fallen to you in a fair ground; sure you have a goodly heritage. The holy eucharist is a communion of the body and blood of Christ;—a participation of all the benefits procured for us by His most meritorious passion. In this most comfortable sacrament, pardon is freely offered to all. Has any one been an enemy to God by wicked works? By this body shall he be reconciled. By this blood shall his peace be made.

“Let me put this one question, and I have done. In the last great day, on what will you rely for salvation? Will you seek to your good thoughts and pious discourses? Alas! they are full of imperfection, and cannot bear the severe trial. All your own righteousnesses are as filthy rags, and will be utterly unable to gain your acceptance. To what then will you have recourse? To whom will you fly in this great extremity? Surely, to the sufferings of Jesus Christ. There is nothing else under heaven whereby you can be saved, but His meritorious passion. Unless His body plead in your behalf, you are covered with shame, and everlasting confusion. Unless His blood make your peace, you are cast, you perish, you are eternally undone. Think, oh, do but think deeply on this, and then you will gladly embrace every occasion of partaking of the holy communion.

“By exhibiting such benefits, by urging such motives, may we prevail on all our neighbours to secure to themselves a resting place for their souls, an anchor of their hopes, sure and stedfast.

“Yours in the Lord,

“JAMES HERVEY.”[146]

This was a letter widely different from those which Hervey had written to his sister. In them, he wrote as a man trusting for salvation solely in his own good works. In this, he propounds the doctrine, that, salvation is entirely owing to the sacrifice of Christ; and, that its blessings are obtained (not by the exercise of faith, but,) in the participation of the Christian sacrament. It need not be added, that, this was one of the chief doctrines of the Oxford Methodists.

The two Wesleys and Ingham left Oxford in 1735, and the time was now approaching for Hervey’s departure. Hence, the following letter to his father:—

“_April 8, 1736._

“HONOURED SIR,—You reprove me for my dilatory way of proceeding,—very justly I own. I hope, I shall, from this time, amend. I was examined yesterday. I must do my juraments five times on Friday, and be admitted to my degree on Monday. Mr. H⸺ tells me, I must wear a bachelor’s gown.

“Mr. Farrer, a little while ago, asked me to resign my room to a pupil of his, who is to come the middle of this month. To which proposal, I have agreed, because I can live much cheaper out of college. I shall, by this means, save the expense of calling up, of bed-making, etc., as well as have a room at a cheaper rate, and pay for it only when I am resident: on which account, I assure myself, this step, I have taken, will be approved of by you and my mother.

“I am sorry to hear of your being obliged to go on with farming. I could wish you would let it, though at some disadvantage, and though we should suffer thereby something in our fortunes.

“As to the curacy near Bath, I can give you no determinate answer. My friend, I believe, is a very sincere one, and will do me what service he can. There is one person who has had the offer of it before me: whether he will accept of it is not known. As soon as _I_ know, _you_ shall know.

“I hope you will send me a letter next week, to wish me joy on being a graduate.

“JAMES HERVEY.”

Though not ordained, when Hervey left Oxford, in June, 1736, and returned to his father’s house at Hardingstone, he, at once, commenced holding meetings among his neighbours. The following letter, addressed to Mr. Chapman, one of the Oxford Methodists, refers to this, and contains Hervey’s views on what ought to be Chapman’s behaviour among the polite inhabitants of Bath, whither he was going:—

“HARDINGSTONE, _June 12, 1736_.

“I humbly thank you for sending me the Journal,” (probably Wesley’s, who was now in Georgia.) “Blessed be God, for His unspeakable love to the poor Indians, and for His watchful care of our dear friends! With what zeal and ardour do those glorious combatants run the race that is set before them. May we, dear Mr. Chapman, may we go and do likewise! go and improve our little stock of knowledge and holiness, by imparting them to as many as want and are willing to receive!

“I hope my evening assemblies are, and will be, prospered. I heartily thank you for advising me to resume those means of instructing my neighbours. I have had some comforting assurances that the sanctifying Spirit has been among us, and blessed my discourses to the edifying of the hearers. I have some from two parishes besides this, that attend upon my little catechetical lectures, and am likely to have a young gentleman from the academy at Northampton.

“If you are going to Bath, how must you behave yourself in such a situation? I wish I could advise you aright; but, I fear, I am one of those whom the apostle styles μυωπα ζοντες. Nevertheless, my opinion, such as it is, I will freely give you.

“I think then, sir, great regard is to be had to the genius and temper of the city. Since that is light and gay, I would accommodate myself to it as much as possible, so it be consistently with innocence. I would, at all times, endeavour to be perfectly cheerful and obliging and complaisant, to the utmost of my power. I would be earnest with God to make my countenance shine with a smiling serenity; that there might sit something on my cheeks, which would declare the peace and joy of my heart. The world has strange apprehensions of the Methodists. They imagine them to be so many walking mopes, more like the ghost in a play, than sociable creatures. To obviate this sad prejudice, be always sprightly and agreeable. If a pretty turn of wit, or a diverting story offer itself to your mind, do not scruple to entertain the company therewith. Everything that borders upon sourness, moroseness, or ill-breeding, I would cautiously avoid. And everything that may give a beautiful or amiable idea of holiness, I would study to show forth. I see no manner of harm in bowing at church, provided it be not in divine service, so as to interrupt our devotions. I think Mr. Wilson disapproved of this; but I cannot bring myself to believe, that, a modest and decent respect to our neighbours is disparaging to God, but rather acceptable to Him. I do not mean, by what I have said, that you should make all sorts of compliances. A solicitation to join with your acquaintance in billiards, dice, cards, dancing, etc., should be rejected.

“If Mr. Morgan is at Bath, pray present my thanks and love to him. God Almighty make him and you bold as lions, wise as serpents, and harmless as doves! If I had not heard you were at Oxon, this had been sent by the post to Bath.

“JAMES HERVEY.”

Hervey was a churchman; but he was not a bigot. At this period of his history, one of the students in Doctor Doddridge’s Academy, at Northampton, was the celebrated Rev. Risdon Darracott, then a youth, nineteen years of age. Hervey and young Darracott had had an interview in the house of a member of Dr. Doddridge’s church. Darracott was endeavouring to form a religious society among Doddridge’s students, somewhat similar to the society of Methodists at Oxford; and the interview, just mentioned, led him to write to Hervey for advice. The latter had recently left Oxford, and the following is an extract from his answer:—

“HARDINGSTONE, _June 3, 1736_.

“DEAR SIR,—I think your proposal, as far as I can see into it, is very proper; and if discreetly managed, and steadily persisted in, cannot fail to be advantageous to yourself and others. This seems to be evident for several reasons; four of which at present occur to my mind.

“1. Because we are ignorant and short-sighted, and oftentimes unable to discern the things that are excellent. But God is pleased to reveal to one what is concealed from another; so that, in a multitude of counsellors, there is wisdom.

“2. Because we are lovers and admirers of ourselves, unwilling to see our own errors, and, therefore, unlikely to amend them. Whereas, our friends will, with a meek and impartial spirit, show us our faults.

“3. Because we are weak and irresolute; easily shaken from the most laudable purposes, and apt to let go our integrity upon any opposition. But a band of friends, who are like minded, inspires us with courage and constancy.

“4. Because we are slothful and lukewarm in religious duties. But a holy fellowship will kindle and keep alive a holy fervour. How often have I gone into the company of my dear friends, listless and spiritless; yet, when I came home, I have found myself quite another person; vigorous and active, sanguine and zealously affected in good matters.”[147]

Hervey, as an Oxford Methodist, was doubtless speaking from experience; and his reasons for religious fellowship are well worth weighing.

A few weeks after the date of the above, Hervey proceeded to Oxford to be ordained; and, whilst there, wrote again, to this young Dissenter, as follows:—

“LINCOLN COLLEGE, OXON, _Sept. 1, 1736_.

“DEAR MR. DARRACOTT,—I wish you would suggest to me what I must do to further the Gospel of God my Saviour. I employ, every day, an hour or more with some well-inclined people of the poorer sort. We read Mr. Henry on the Holy Scriptures, and pray together. There is one set in one part of the city, and another in another. I meet them at a neighbour’s house. Oh! that I could also open my mouth as he did; so boldly, so powerfully!

“I am preparing to enter into holy orders, and to take upon me the work of the ministry. That great, wonderful, and important work! Help me with your prayers to the Lord God my Saviour, that I ‘may receive the Holy Ghost not many days hence,’ by the laying on of hands; even ‘the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and of the fear of the Lord.’

“Dear sir, pray give my humble service, and best thanks to Dr. Doddridge, and beg of him, when he is in the acceptable time, to remember me, who am in the time of need. If he has any word of exhortation; but, especially, if he has any treasures of instruction, proper for a candidate of the ministerial office, how glad should I be if he would please to impart them, and how gratefully should such a favour be always acknowledged by his and your affectionate servant and brother in Jesus Christ,

“J. HERVEY.”[148]

Another letter, written previous to his ordination, shall be given, at full length. Wesley was now in Georgia; and Hervey addressed to him the following:—

“OXON, _Sept. 2, 1736_.

“REV. AND DEAR SIR,—I have read your Journal, and find that the Lord hath done great things for you already, whereof we rejoice. Surely, He will continue His loving-kindness to you, and show you greater things than these. Methinks, when you and dear Mr. Ingham go forth upon the great and good enterprise of converting the Indians, you will, in some respects, resemble Noah and his little household going forth of the ark. Wherever you go, you must walk among dry bones or carcasses, among a people that are aliens from the life of God, buried in ignorance, dead in trespasses and sins. Oh, may the blessing of that illustrious progenitor of ours, and of that favourite with the Most High, be upon your heads! May you be ‘fruitful and multiply,’ may you bring forth abundantly in that barren land and multiply therein!

“As for me, I am still a most weak, corrupt creature. But blessed be the unmerited mercy of God, and thanks be to your never to be forgotten example, that I am what I am. As to my strength, and activity with regard to others, I fear it may be too truly said, ‘It is to sit still.’ I am at present one of the multitude; but I expect, before this reaches you, to receive the office of a Deacon, and become a minister of the New Testament. Oh, may I also ‘receive the Holy Ghost not many days hence;’ and be made a faithful minister of those saving mysteries, from that time forth and for ever! I hope, I shall then hear a voice behind me, saying, ‘Awake thou that sleepest, from thy slumber, and Christ shall give thee light.’ Christ shall be thy sanctification, Christ shall be thy illumination. He shall stand by thee, and strengthen thee. He shall give thee both to will and to do. Through the power of His grace, thou shalt run and not faint; thou shalt be fervent in the business and propagation of righteousness, nor ever give over, till thou givest up thy soul to God, its Maker, and thy body return unto the dust, as it was.

“That I may be obedient to such a heavenly call, is, I hope, ‘all my wish and all my desire.’ This is, indeed, the treasure I value, the thing that I long for. Do you, dear sir, put up your incessant prayers; and, oh, let the mighty God set to His seal, that the thing may be established, that it may be unto me according to my heart’s desire! Then, will I invite you (my _father_, shall I call you, or my _friend_? For, indeed, you have been both unto me), to meet me among the spirits of just men made perfect; since I am not like to see your face in the flesh any more for ever! Then, will I bid you welcome, yea, I will tell of your love, before the universal assembly, and at the tremendous tribunal. I will hear with joy the Man Christ Jesus say of you, ‘Oh, ye that are greatly beloved. Well done, good and faithful servants; ye have served your Lord and your generation with your might; ye have finished the work, which the eternal foreknowledge of my Father gave you to do. If others have turned their thousands, ye have turned your tens of thousands from the power of Satan unto God. Receive, therefore, a glorious kingdom,—a beautiful and immortal crown from my hand. Enter, with the children I have given you,—with the souls that you have won. Oh ye blessed ones, ye heirs of glory, enter in at those everlasting doors, and receive there the reward of your labours, even the fulness of joy for ever and ever.’

“I am, and may I always be, dear sir, your son in the Lord Jesus Christ,

“J. HERVEY.

“P. S. I heartily thank you, as for all other favours, so especially for teaching me Hebrew.[149] I have cultivated (according to your advice) this study, and am, blessed be God, the giver of knowledge! somewhat improved in this language. My prayers accompany you, and all that are engaged with you in the same glorious design. Let me also have yours and theirs for Jerusalem’s, for Christ’s sake.”[150]

Seventeen days, after the date of the above letter, Hervey was ordained a deacon at Christ Church, by Dr. Potter, Bishop of Oxford.[151]

One of the Oxford Methodists was Charles Kinchin, Fellow of Corpus Christi College.[152] On leaving Oxford, he was presented with the rectory of Dummer, near Basingstoke; and now, in 1736, Hervey became his curate. This is not the place to describe his curacy; but further extracts from his letters, during the time he held it, will serve to illustrate his character.

His brother, being desirous to be apprenticed in London, received from him the following:—

“DUMMER, _June 27, 1737_.

“DEAR BROTHER,—I find you are at London looking out for a trade, and a master to set yourself to. I hope, you pray earnestly to God to guide you in your choice. Desire also your honoured mother, and mine, to have a great regard to your soul. Let it be inquired, not only whether such a tradesman be a man of substance and credit, but also, whether he be a man of religion and godliness? Whether he be a lover of good people, a careful frequenter of the Church? Whether his children be well nurtured and educated in the fear of the Lord? Whether family prayer be daily offered up in his house? Whether he believes that the souls of his servants are committed to his trust, and that he will be answerable for the neglect of them at the judgment-seat? It will be sadly hazardous to venture yourself under the roof of any person, who is not furnished with these principles, or is a stranger to these practices. But, if he be contrary to all these, a despiser of God and goodness, wholly devoted to carnal pleasure and worldly gain; if he not only omit the religious care and oversight of his household, but also set them a wicked and corrupt example, let nothing induce you to enter into his service.”

At the time when this letter was addressed to his brother, he received a sort of petition, signed by the inhabitants of Collingtree, one of his father’s parishes, praying him to become their minister. In his long reply, dated June 29, 1737, he did not absolutely refuse to accede to their request; but sketched what a minister of Christ ought to be, and exhorted them to ask the great Head of the Church, to supply them with such an one. The letter is too long for insertion here; but, it shows, that, this young man of twenty-three had correct and exalted notions of ministerial duty. The standard of excellence was high, and but seldom reached; but it was not higher than it ought to be.

Meanwhile, the services of Hervey were not confined to Dummer. Even the _Oxford_ Methodists, to some extent, were itinerant ministers, and, by interchange, occupied each other’s pulpits. Hence the following:—

“DUMMER, _October 26, 1737_.

“DEAR MR. ⸺,—I received your last at Oxford. After that, I removed to Stanton-Harcourt; and now am replaced at Dummer. These frequent removals and changes of situation, I hope, will be some small excuse for my dilatoriness in writing; for, you know, they occasion trouble and take up time.

“Mr. Broughton, Mr. Gambold, and Mr. Kinchin, have been exercising their ministry here. O may I not pull down, by my indiscretion or inactivity, what they have begun to build!

“As to the making of sermons, I am deterred from writing them, not because I look upon it as a useless employment; but because I feel, and cannot help confessing, my absolute inequality to a task so important. I entreat your intense and persevering prayers on my behalf, that the great and good God, the dispenser of all wisdom, would vouchsafe to be a light to my darkness, and strength to my weakness. Should these supplications be graciously answered, my heart will then teem both with abundance of matter, and propriety of expression; my pen too will be that of a ready writer.

“I am, dear sir, your obliged and affectionate, but unworthy friend,

“J. HERVEY.”[153]

In the early part of the year 1738, Hervey suffered from enfeebled health; and accepted the invitation of Paul Orchard, Esq., who resided at Stoke Abbey,[154] a beautifully situated old mansion in Devonshire.

Taking Bristol on his way, he wrote as follows to Mr. Orchard:—

“BRISTOL, _February 3, 1738_.

“WORTHY SIR,—I have been at Bristol little less than a fortnight, waiting of an opportunity of coming to Cornwall by water; but, the wind still continuing contrary, I intend, this day, to set out for Exeter, on horseback. I hope, by three or four easy stages, to reach it on Monday or Tuesday next. Here I propose to rest, till I have the satisfaction of hearing from my much-esteemed, though unknown patron. I expect, sir, to be sorely fatigued, not being accustomed to travelling; and, if you please to permit your man and horse (for I dare not presume to ask for your chariot) to give me the meeting at Exeter, by the time he arrives, I hope to have worn off my weariness. I beg my humblest service may be accepted by your lady, and am, good sir, your obliged humble servant,

“JAMES HERVEY.”

The foregoing, to Mr. Orchard, was written three days after Whitefield embarked for Georgia, and Wesley returned to England. No sooner did Hervey hear of his friend Wesley’s safe arrival, than he wrote him the following loving and interesting letter:—

“STOKE ABBEY, _March 21, 1738_.

“REV. AND HONOURED SIR,—How agreeably surprising was the news, which a letter of Mr. Chapman’s lately brought me. I am at a loss to say, whether it was more unexpected or more grateful. It assured me that Mr. Wesley was arrived in England; had visited Oxon; and was coming to Bath: and shall I not hasten a congratulatory address, to welcome the friend of my studies, the friend of my soul, the friend of all my valuable and eternal interests? To do it cannot be deemed impertinency; but not to do it would justly bring upon me the imputation of ingratitude.

“I hope, sir, your health is not impaired by your travels. I dare say, your experience is increased, and your knowledge enlarged; your faith strengthened, and your zeal quickened. I do not doubt but the God whom you serve, has shown you wonderful things in His righteousness; His Almighty wisdom and goodness have dealt graciously with you, and wrought marvellously by you. O! how greatly pleasing, and, perhaps, not unprofitable would a relation of them be.

“I believe you had the pleasure of finding some of the Oxonians grown considerably in grace. They have made haste, since your departure, to improve their talents; and to edify their neighbours, as though they were earnestly and resolvedly desirous to enjoy their company in a better world.

“You cannot but have heard, and, hearing, you cannot but rejoice at, the successful zeal of our friend Whitefield. All London, and the whole nation ring of μεγαλια του Θεου done by his ministry. But, alas! it will damp your rising satisfaction to receive an account of useless, worthless Hervey’s having run a round of sin and vanity; and, at length, weary and giddy, being almost ready to drop into hell. Oh! it is not fit to be mentioned; worthy of nothing but oblivion. Spare the narrative, and cure the wretch. Send a line, and accompany it with a prayer, to warm my frozen and benumbed soul; that, if there be any seeds of goodness latent, any sparks of piety dormant in my breast, they may break forth to life, and kindle into a flame.

“I am retired from the scene of action into a worthy and wealthy gentleman’s family. Mr. Chapman will inform you, how much he deserves your prayers, and the prayers of all who are mighty with God and prevail.

“Dear sir, if other business,—if other charitable employments will allow you leisure, pray favour me with a letter. To none will it be more acceptable; by none is it more needed, than by your most obliged humble servant,

“JAMES HERVEY.”

Hervey’s health did not improve at the beautiful residence of his friend, Orchard. Hence, four months after his settlement at Stoke Abbey, he wrote to his sister as follows:—

“1738. June 19. My disorder is a languor and faintness, a feebleness and inability for action, which is increased or lessened according to the various temperature of the weather. I bless God Almighty! I am not deprived of my appetite for food, neither are my bones chastened with pain; so that, many impute all my complaints to a hippish and over-timorous turn of mind,—to a distempered imagination, rather than a disordered body.

“I have been about twenty or twenty-six miles into Cornwall, and seen wondrous workmanship of the all-creating God. At Bideford, about fourteen miles off, I am pretty well known, and am a little esteemed. It is strange to tell, but let it be to the glory of God’s free and undeserved goodness, though I am worthy of shame and universal contempt, that, I find favour almost wherever I go.”

For upwards of two years, Hervey was the cherished guest of Mr. Orchard and his family. David and Jonathan were not warmer or more faithful friends than these. Hence the following remarkable agreement:—

“We, the underwritten, whom God’s providence has wonderfully brought acquainted with each other, for purposes, no doubt, of piety and everlasting salvation, sensible how blind and corrupt our nature is, how forward to fall into errors and iniquities, but how backward to discern or amend them;—knowing also the great advantage of kind and affectionate, but, at the same time, sincere and impartial reproof and admonition;—do oblige ourselves to watch over each other’s conduct, conversation, and tempers; and, whenever we perceive anything amiss therein,—any duty ill done, or not done so well as it ought,—anything omitted which might be for our spiritual good, or practised which will tend to our spiritual hurt,—in fine, any thing practised or neglected, which we shall wish to have been otherwise in a dying hour:—All this we will watch to observe, never fail to reprove, and earnestly endeavour to correct in each other, that so, we may have nothing to upbraid one another with when we meet in the eternal state. We resolve to do all this with the utmost plainness, and all honest freedom; and, provided it be done with tenderness, with apparent good-will, and in private, we will esteem it as the greatest kindness we can show,—the truest interest of sincere friendship that we can exercise, and the only way of answering the gracious ends of Almighty wisdom in bringing us together. In witness and confirmation of which resolution, we here subscribe our names.

“PAUL ORCHARD, ”JAMES HERVEY.”

“_November 28, 1738._”

While Hervey was thus resting, and recruiting his health, in Devonshire, Wesley and his brother Charles became acquainted with Peter Böhler, found peace with God, associated with the Moravians, and began to preach the doctrine of salvation by faith only, with a fervour and earnestness, which excited almost national attention, and brought upon them, in varied forms, the malice of their enemies. Hervey, in his beautiful retirement, heard of this, and wrote to Wesley as follows[155]:—

“STOKE ABBEY, _December 1, 1738_.

“MOST DEAR AND REVEREND SIR,—Whom I love and honour in the Lord: indeed, it is not through any forgetfulness of your favours, or unconcernedness for your welfare, that, you have not heard from me, but through the miscarriage of my letter. Immediately on the news of your first arrival in England, I made haste to salute you, and wondered why your answer was so long in coming; but wondered more when I heard you had left the nation a second time,[156] without being so condescending as to own me, or so kind as to vouchsafe me a single line. But, now, sir, that, I am assured under your own hand, that, you have escaped the perils of the sea, the perils of foreign countries, the perils of those that oppose the truth; and, that, you, restored in safety to your native country, are resettled at Oxon, and both have been doing, and still are doing spiritual and everlasting good to men,—I may truly say ‘my heart rejoiceth, even mine.’

“O that I could give you a comfortable account of myself, and of my zeal for God! Alas! I must confess, with shame and sorrow, ‘my zeal has been to sit still.’ I am not strong in body, and am lamentably weak in spirit. Sometimes, my bodily disorders clog the willing mind, and are a grievous weight upon its wheels. At other times, the mind is oppressed with sloth, and thereby rendered listless and indisposed for labouring in the Lord. Pray for me, dearest sir, and engage all my friends to cry mightily to Heaven in my behalf, if so be, this dry rod may bud and blossom; this barren tree may bring forth much fruit.

“I live in the family of a worthy gentleman, who is a hearty well-wisher to the cause of pure and undefiled religion; who desires no greater happiness than to love the Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity; and who would be glad of a place for himself and household in your prayers.

“Dear sir, will you permit me to inform you what is said, though I verily believe slanderously said, of you? It is reported, that, the dearest friends I have in the world are setters forth of strange doctrines, that are contrary to Scripture, and repugnant to the Articles of our Church. This cannot but give me uneasiness; and I should be glad to have my fears removed by yourself. It is said, that, you inculcate faith, without laying stress upon good works; and, that, you endeavour to dissuade honest tradesmen from following their occupations, and persuade them to turn preachers. Now, these calumnies I wish you would give me power to confute, who am,

“Dear sir, your ever obliged and grateful friend,

“J. HERVEY.”

The first of these rumours was a calumny; for, while Wesley inculcated faith, he also strenuously enforced good works. The second was not without foundation; for Wesley himself writes:—

“Joseph Humphrey was the first lay preacher that assisted me in England, in the year 1738.”[157]

The two Wesleys and Whitefield, full of the love of God, and with faces beaming with peace and joy through believing in Christ Jesus, were now about the most abused men in England. All the churches were closed against them; and fields, streets, and village greens were their chief preaching places. The mob treated them with violence. The clergy used the pulpit in denouncing them. The press was employed in spreading scandalous reports concerning them. Some of their old friends were puzzled, and began to stand aloof from them. But, in the midst of all, they themselves were happy; and were honoured, almost every day, in being made the instruments of turning men from sin to holiness, and from the power of Satan unto God.

Hervey’s health was such, that, even had he wished, he was utterly unable to join his friends in this their bold and marvellously successful out-door mission to the unconverted masses. While they were preaching to assembled thousands on Hannam Mount, Kennington Common, and Blackheath, he was being nursed, with the greatest tenderness, amid the comforts and beauties of Stoke Abbey; and was preaching, as opportunity permitted, and as his strength allowed, in some of the neighbouring churches, and especially in Mr. Thompson’s, of St. Gennys, Cornwall. Though absent, however, he was not forgotten. Whitefield, full of faith and of the Holy Ghost, wrote to him, inquiring whether he had found the same blessings, which he and the Wesleys had. Hervey’s answer was so beautifully ingenuous; and, moreover, is so important as bearing upon the subject of his conversion, that, it is given here without curtailment.

“STOKE ABBEY, _April 4, 1739_.

“DEAR MR. WHITEFIELD,—Your kind favour, dated March 6, I received not till yesterday, not returning sooner from worthy Mr. Thompson’s charge. O that he may not find his dear flock gone back; but adorned in Christian knowledge, during his absence from them!

“I thank you for the good news you sent me. Christ enable me to praise, rejoice, and give thanks on this behalf!

“I am obliged for the searching questions you put to me. Before I answer them, give me leave to exhort you in the words of the Psalmist, ‘Try me, my dear and faithful friend, try me, and seek the ground of my heart, and examine my thoughts; look well if there be any way of wickedness in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.’

“First question, Does the Spirit of God witness with your spirit that you are a child of God? In truth, I cannot tell. I have sometimes a comforting hope, that I am a child, and not an outcast; a true son, and no bastard; but whether this persuasion cometh of Him that has called men to salvation, I know not. Whether it be the testimony of the Holy Spirit witnessing within me, or the whisper of a vain presumption speaking peace where there is no peace, I am at a loss to determine. Tell me, dear sir, by what touchstone I shall distinguish them.

“Second question, Have you peace and joy in the Holy Ghost? I sometimes do rejoice, and not in carnal satisfactions, but in hope of the glory which shall be revealed. But the bright prospect is quickly intercepted; dark clouds of fear intervene; and sad misgivings of mind throw a damp upon the rising joy. Sometimes I am blessed with inward peace, and possess my soul in tranquility; but this also is like our April sun,—very changeable and short-lived. The sweet calm is broken, and ruffling gusts of peevishness and uneasiness discompose the tenour of my mind. I must confess, that, I feel touches of envy (oh that I could mingle my tears with my ink, as I write!), motions of pride, hankering after unnecessary sensual delights; that, I too frequently am destitute of love to my brethren, of a compassionate long-suffering zeal for their welfare, and cannot perceive one spark of devotion kindled in my cold heart. For these things, my soul is, at some intervals, disquieted within me. Such sad experiences turn my peace into pain; they destroy my gladness, and fill me with grief.

“Third question, Are we justified by faith only? I answer, By faith only. Works can have no share in our justification, because there is iniquity in our holy things. They are done after an imperfect manner, or from improper views, or sullied with some secret self-glorying; and, therefore, cannot recommend _themselves_, much less the _sinful doers_ of them, to infinite purity. Nay, if God should enter into strict and rigorous judgment, I fear our best works would deserve punishment. And to think, that, those performances, which deserve punishment, can merit, either in whole or in part, in any measure or degree, an eternal reward, is surely to misjudge the case. It seems to be as false as to fancy, that, the addition of some dross would enhance the value, or increase the lustre, of refined gold. Yet still I believe, that, these works, poor and mean and imperfect as they are, are absolutely necessary, and that there is no justification without them. A tenant upon lease must duly and punctually pay his pepper-corn, though it be not considered, by the payer or receiver, as of any worth at all. So, a Christian must exercise himself in all good works, if he would obtain salvation, though that can add no worth to the perfect, sufficient, and alone meritorious sacrifice of Jesus Christ. We must be as careful to maintain good works, as if our salvation was the purchase of them alone, and yet renounce them utterly, and rely upon the merits, death, and intercession of our blessed Saviour, who is made unto them that believe, not only wisdom, but righteousness, sanctification, and redemption.

“If I am wrong, be pleased to inform me; and God Almighty give me a child-like, unprejudiced, teachable spirit! Pray for me, dear sir, that, my sins, which blind my understanding, may be subdued; and that; together with a right spirit, I may have a right judgment in all things. That text, James ii. 24, I dare not blot out of my Bible, and I cannot put out of my mind. Indeed, it perplexes me. It makes me unsettled and wavering. When I think of it, I am ready (ready! nay, ought I not to be resolved, since the Apostle has put the words into my mouth?) to alter my reply, and say, not by faith _only_, but by works (in conjunction with it) a man is justified. Give me leave, henceforward, to become your pupil in this important doctrine of Christianity, as I have long been, and ever shall be,

“Your most affectionate friend,

“J. HERVEY.”[158]

The friendship of these Oxford Methodists was most sincere and cordial; but was not unruffled. All was not plain sailing. Breakers were a-head. It is a well-known fact, that, early in the year 1739, Whitefield and Wesley, being shut out of the pulpits of the Established Church, commenced their marvellous career of out-door preaching. Astonishing effects followed. All sorts of rumours were current. Enemies were active, and, as already stated, even friends were staggered. In his Devonshire retreat, Hervey was excited, and wrote to the Rev. Mr. Kinchin, of Dummer, an immensely long letter from which the following is an extract:—

“STOKE ABBEY, _April 18, 1739_.

“DEAR MR. KINCHIN,—This day, a letter informs me, that, my worthy and ever-esteemed Rector has hearkened to men of unsound opinions, and is turning aside to their errors;—that, he is inclined to throw off his gown, renounce the Church of England, relinquish his Fellowship and living, and become itinerant preacher. And can I see a friend, who has been kind to me as a father, is dear to me as a brother,—can I see such a friend run away with such erroneous and pernicious notions, and sit silent and unconcerned? No; my affections constrain me; and I cannot hold my peace. I love him, and, therefore, must speak. I love him tenderly, and, therefore, must speak freely.”

Here follow twelve printed octavo pages of remonstrance. Hervey then adds:—

“There is no man living that I more sincerely love and honour than Mr. Wesley. His memory is most dear and deservedly precious to me; but, yet, I must frankly own, he is liable to mistakes,—mistakes in religion, and dangerous ones too. I remember the time when he was fond of the mystic writers; read one of their leading authors over and over again; and commended what he read as the best book, next to those that were given by inspiration. But, within the space of a few months, he saw his error; retracted his opinions; and inveighed against them as studiously as he ever extolled them. This I mention only to show, that, the best designing men,—men of eminent learning and exemplary devotions,—may be led into false apprehensions of things. He has arguments, I do not doubt, to support his tenets, as he had in the former case, and can manage them with a masterly skill; but, yet, he may be deceived, though he means only the glory of Christ. Therefore, dear sir, withhold your assent a little, and do not too easily fall in with his principles. At least, suspend your determination for awhile; wait the event; and let that speak for the attempt.

“You see how moderate I am in the matter. I do not exclaim against the gentlemen who have brought these new doctrines to our ears. If truth and purer Christianity be on their side, God forbid, but that I myself and every true-hearted disciple should go over to their party! Only have a little patience; tarry thou the issue of things; and let _excitus acta probet_.

“I wonder why they dissuade you from cleaving to the Establishment. Why do they find fault with our excellent Church? And why should they entice you from your parish? Sure we are, that, the Holy Ghost made you overseer over that little flock; but, that, He has released you from the charge and called you to another sphere of labour, is not so evident. There was a time when Mr. Wesley was a warm and able advocate of the primitive institutions. I marvel, that, he is so soon removed to another opinion. This is a fresh conviction how variable his mind is, and, though burning with zeal for God, yet, given to change. And, having altered so often already, why may he not alter again, and new-mould his present sentiments as well as his former?

“They advise you to become an itinerant preacher. But why? I would gladly know. Is greater perfection to be attained by wandering into the wide world, and preaching in variety of places? Or will this way of preaching be more successful and efficacious? I cannot bring myself to believe this.

“Etc., etc.,

“JAMES HERVEY.”

To some extent, Hervey was evidently misinformed. It is possible, it is not unlikely, that, Wesley and Whitefield had advised their brother Methodist, Mr. Kinchin, to become an itinerant preacher; but there is no evidence, that, they ever wished either him or any of their friends to leave the Established Church, or, that, they ever entertained the idea of leaving the Church themselves. Still, there can be no doubt, that Hervey had heard such reports as these, and was intensely anxious on this account. Hervey refers to the diffusion of “erroneous and pernicious notions.” These were, probably, not so much the doctrines of justification by faith, the witness of the Spirit, and cognate truths, as the things mentioned in the following letter, addressed to Whitefield, three weeks after the foregoing letter was sent to Mr. Kinchin:—

“STOKE ABBEY, _May 10, 1739_.

“DEAR MR. WHITEFIELD,—I sincerely thank you for your last letter. I can hardly bring myself to assent to your whole account of justification by faith. This, perhaps, may proceed from some obstinate prejudices, rather than from reasonable and weighty scruple. However, I waive the mention of my objections, and make the care of my own right faith give place to a concern for the principles and practices of my dear friends.

“It is reported, and creditably reported, from Oxon, that, several strange notions have been lately broached there, and have gained proselytes and espousers among the most hopeful and promising part of the University. They, who bravely stood their ground against sin, are become an unhappy prey to error and delusion. I hope you are not fallen from your once avowed steadfastness to the truth as it is in Jesus, and as it is in our excellent Church. It is whispered, indeed, that, the seducers are practising their arts upon you, and trying to subvert my dear Mr. Whitefield’s orthodoxy.

“In a late letter, I gave an answer to some queries you were pleased to put to me. Now, I beg the favour of your opinions concerning the following doctrines: ‘That, the Distinction, Order, Degrees, even Robes and Habits of the University are all Anti-Christian; that, nothing is taught in it, but that learning and wisdom, which opposes the power of God; that, whoso is born of God is also taught of God, not in any limited sense, but, so as to make the use of natural means of no effect; that, all human learning (however said to be sanctified of God) entirely disqualifies us for preaching the true Gospel of Jesus Christ; that, an Established ministry is a mere invention of men; that, our whole Church and all its authority, are founded on, and supported by a lie; and, that, all who receive power of preaching from it, are in a state of slavery, and must throw off all obedience to it, before they can enjoy the freedom of the Gospel.

“These tenets, extravagant and pernicious as they are, have been, I find, studiously advanced; but let them not have the sanction of your approbation. If they will get abroad into the world, let them go branded with your dislike and censure.

“JAMES HERVEY.”

Remembering the rumours of the day, such a letter as the above is not surprising. Falsehoods concerning Wesley and his friends were rife. No report was too extravagant to be believed. Unfortunately, Whitefield’s answer to Hervey is not forthcoming; but the invalided recluse was soon led into the way of truth. Hence, the following, also addressed to Whitefield, pointing out the means by which Hervey had been induced to renounce his Oxford Pharisaism, and to embrace the doctrine of salvation by faith in Christ only. The letter is too valuable to be abridged:—

“Yes, dear sir, with pleasure, I send another letter. I rejoice to find, that, you remember me. I am thankful, that, you have not renounced a correspondent, made odious by so much ingratitude.

“You are pleased to ask, How the Holy Ghost convinced me of self-righteousness, and drove me out of my false rests? Indeed, sir, I cannot precisely tell. The light was not instantaneous, but gradual. It did not flash upon my soul, but arose like the dawning day. A little book, wrote by _Jenks_, upon Submission to the Righteousness of God, was made serviceable to me. Your Journals, dear sir, and Sermons, especially that sweet Sermon upon ‘What think ye of Christ?’ were a means of bringing me to a knowledge of the truth. And another excellent piece has been, and I hope will be, as so much precious eye-salve to my dim and clouded understanding,—I mean ‘_Marshall’s_ Gospel Mystery of Sanctification.’

“These,—blessed be He, who is a light to them that sit in darkness!—have, in some degree, convinced me of my former errors. I now begin to see, that, I have been labouring in the fire, and wearying myself for very vanity, while I have attempted to establish my own righteousness. I trusted I knew not what, while I trusted in some imaginary good deeds of my own. These are no hiding-place from the storm. They are a refuge of lies. If I had the meekness of Moses, and the patience of Job, the zeal of Paul, and the love of John, I durst not advance the least plea to everlasting life on this footing. But as for my own beggarly performances,—wretched righteousness,—gracious, adorable Emmanuel!—I am ashamed; I am grieved, that I should thrust them into the place of Thy Divine, Thy inconceivable precious obedience!

“My schemes are altered. I now desire to work in my blessed Master’s service, not _for_, but, _from_ salvation. I believe, that, Jesus Christ, the Incarnate God, is my Saviour; that, He has done all which I was bound to perform; and suffered all that I was condemned to sustain; and, so, has procured a full, final, and everlasting salvation for a poor damnable sinner. I would now fain _serve_ Him who has _saved_ me. I would glorify Him before _men_, who has justified me before _God_. I would study to please Him in holiness and righteousness all the days of my life. I seek this blessing, not as a _condition_, but, as a _part_,—a choice and inestimable _part_ of that complete salvation, which Jesus has purchased for me.

“Now, if at any time, I am fervent in devotion,—seem to be in a gracious frame,—or am enabled to abound in the works of the Lord,—I endeavour to put no confidence in these bruised reeds, but to rest upon the Rock of Ages. Not in these, most blessed Jesus, but in Thy robes of righteousness, let me be found, when ‘God shall call the heavens from above, and the earth, that, He may judge His people.’

“When, on the other hand, I feel myself most deplorably dead and deficient,—when I am apt to sigh for my unprofitableness, and cry out with the prophet, ‘My leanness, my leanness!’ I no longer comfort myself with saying, ‘Be of good cheer, soul, thy God requires only _sincere_ obedience, and, perhaps, to-morrow may be better than this day, and more abundant in acts of holiness.’ Jesus is now become my salvation, and this is my song in the house of my pilgrimage,—‘Why art thou cast down, O my soul?’ Though imperfect in thyself, thou art complete in thy Head. Though poor in thyself, thou hast unsearchable riches in thy Divine Surety. The righteousness of Thy obedience, O Lord Redeemer, is everlasting. O grant me an interest in this, and I shall live.

“If overtaken by sin, or overcome by temptation, I dare not, as formerly, call to mind my righteous deeds, and so think to commute with Divine justice; or quit scores for my offences, by my duties. I do not, to ease my conscience, or be reconciled to God, promise stricter watchfulness, more alms, and renewed fastings. No; in such unhappy circumstances, turn, O my soul! neither to the right hand nor to the left; but fly instantly to Him, whom God has set forth for a propitiation. Hide thyself in His wounded side, and be safe. Wash in His streaming blood, and be clean.

“If in these, or in other points, I am otherwise minded, than corresponds with the gospel of truth, cease not, dear sir, to pray, that, ‘God may reveal even this unto me.’

“But why will not my dear friend come amongst us? Why won’t he drop his word towards the west? Many, in these parts, long for your arrival. Many long to hear the joyful sound from your lips. Many, I am assured, would hail my dear brother with that acclamation, ‘How beautiful are the feet of him that bringeth glad tidings; that bringeth glad tidings of good things!’ O that it would please the Divine Providence to direct your way unto us! Come, dear sir, come with the fulness of the blessings of the gospel of peace. Come amongst living multitudes, who will be attentive to hear you; and come, once more, into the arms of him who dearly loves you.

“J. HERVEY.”[159]

Hervey and Whitefield were young men, both twenty-five years of age; but they were not novices in religious knowledge. By extensive reading, by conversation, by docility, above all, by the blessed Bible, and by the Spirit’s teaching, they had, at this early period of their history, arrived at theological conclusions, from which they never wavered to the end of life. Exception may be taken to some of the expressions of Hervey in the foregoing letter; and to the Calvinistic views of both; but they _believed_ what they preached; and they undoubtedly thought and felt that their doctrines were founded upon the Divine authority of the sacred Scriptures. It is no part of the plan of the present work to defend or to attack the doctrines taught by the men whose histories are sketched; but simply to furnish honest information respecting their manner of life, their teaching, their religious experience, their success, and the termination of their toil and suffering.

In 1740, Hervey’s health was sufficiently restored to justify his undertaking the curacy of Bideford, where he continued till about the month of July, 1743. His congregation was large, but his stipend small, amounting to not more than £60 a year. Here he planned and partly executed his “Meditations among the Tombs,” and his “Reflections on a Flower Garden.” A ride from Bideford to Kilhampton suggested the former; and the latter were, in part, composed in the summer-house of a pleasant garden, belonging to the family with whom he lodged. At his entrance upon his ministry at Bideford, he wrote as follows to his friend, Mr. Orchard, in whose hospitable mansion he had been so long a guest:—

“Your excellent proposal is not yet put into execution; we have no evening prayers in public as yet; nay, I have not so much as communicated the design to my rector. I am shamefully timorous: lions, giants, and the sons of Anak are much in my thoughts. I dream (and may it be no more than a dream, and not too real a presage,) of difficulties, both in getting leave to attempt, and in getting strength to perform, this spiritual service, which I owe to my little flock. Your zeal will reproach me with cowardice; your faith upbraid me with unbelief; but, O, let your charity and pity pray against both. I hope ere long to disclose the matter to Mr. Nichols.”

Another letter, written at Bideford, and addressed to Whitefield, will be welcome. It strikingly exhibits the change in Hervey’s views and religious character:—

“BIDEFORD, _1741_.

“DEAR MR. WHITEFIELD,—Your favour struck me with an agreeable surprise. I verily thought my stubborn silence had razed me from your remembrance; but, since you still have an affection for an ungrateful friend, I take this opportunity of returning my grateful acknowledgments.

“I rejoice to hear the Redeemer’s cause revives. Set up Thyself, O Incarnate God! above the heavens, and diffuse Thy glory through all the earth! Let Thy enemies perish, O Lord! Let disappointments attend the attempts of Thy foes and the devices of hell; but let Thy servants be prosperous, and their message crowned with success!

“Dear sir, I cannot boast of trophies erected here by the Captain of our salvation; but, I hope, the arm of the Lord will be revealed more and more among us. I hope, the triumphs of free grace will have wider spread and free course, and will prevail mightily over our unbelief. I own, with shame and sorrow, that, I have been too long a blind leader of the blind. I have perverted the good ways of God, and have darkened the glory of redeeming merit and sovereign grace. I have dared to invade the prerogatives of an all-sufficient Saviour, and to pluck the crown off His head. I have derogated from the honours, the everlasting and incommunicable honours of Jesus. I have presumed to give works a share in the redemption and recovery of a lost sinner; and have placed those filthy rags upon the throne of the Lamb; and, by that means, debased the Saviour, and exalted the sinner.

“But, I trust, the Divine truth begins to dawn upon my soul. Was I possest of all the righteous acts that have made saints and martyrs famous in all generations,—could they all be transferred to me, and might I call them all my own,—I would renounce them all that I might win Christ. I would not dare to appear before the bright and burning eye of God with such hay, straw, and stubble. No, dear sir, I would long to be clothed in a Mediator’s righteousness, and ascribe all my salvation to the most unmerited and freest grace.

“Dear sir, cease not to pray for me; desist not to counsel me; since, I perceive, you cannot forbear to love me.

“I am,” etc.,

“J. HERVEY.”

In the discharge of his ministerial duties at Bideford Hervey was exemplary. He preached twice every Sunday; and, on Tuesdays and Fridays, expounded part of one of the Lessons for the day; except when he examined the children, and gave explanations of the Church’s Catechism. Like his friends Wesley and Whitefield, he also formed a religious society, which continued to meet above forty years. This brought upon him considerable reproach; but, “so far from being ashamed” of what he had done, he wrote,—

“I am only ashamed of the inconsiderable assistance which I am able to contribute to so worthy an attempt. Ashamed! no; but if it were lawful for a Christian to glory in anything beside the cross of Christ, this should be matter of glory and triumph to me. Their scorns, derision, and mockery, I would bind on my head as a beautiful crown, and be better pleased with such a character, than with an ornament of gold about my neck.”[160]

Brave words were these! The Wesleys and Whitefield were encountering murderous mobs in all directions; and, so far from complaining, were “rejoicing, that, they were counted worthy to suffer shame for the name of Jesus Christ.” The feebleness of Hervey’s body rendered it impossible for him to undertake the rough mission work, which was so zealously undertaken by his friends; but, the Christian heroism of his soul, rendered him not unworthy of their brotherhood. The men, one and all, were animated with the spirit of “the noble army of martyrs;” and, at any moment, were prepared to die for the sake of the Lord Jesus. No wonder, that, such men were successful, and, that, their memories are wreathed with unfading laurels; while the names of their “enemies, persecutors, and slanderers,” are either forgotten, or only remembered with contempt.

The Rev. Mr. Nichols, the Rector of Bideford, died early in the year 1741, only a few months after Hervey had entered upon his labours there; and, as the Bideford living was a valuable one, there were a considerable number of aspirants after it. On March 2, 1741, Hervey wrote to a friend as follows:—

“You have heard, I do not doubt, that, Mr. Nichols, my rector, is no more: who will succeed him is yet a secret. Many, I believe, are eagerly wishing for it, as a place of considerable profit, but few, perhaps, are solicitously considering whether they are equal to the discharge of so difficult and important a service. But hold, my pen: what have I to do to judge others? Let it be all my care to approve myself faithful in my appointed station.”

Shortly after this, Hervey was summoned home, on account of the serious illness of his father. Hence the following:—

“WESTON, _May 30, 1741_.

“DEAR MR. W.⸺,—’Tis late, midnight drawing on, and the Sabbath approaches; but I must snatch a few minutes to tell my dear friend the good news. My father is made whole; quite freed from his pains; quite cured of his disorders; and almost in a new world. Deep, indeed, was his distress; grievous his affliction; but now the clouds are over and gone, and the voice of joy and health is restored to his dwelling.

“Now, therefore, I am free: I have no engagement here. My father, it is true, offers me a curacy; but, if Mr. ⸺ chooses it, and my dear people think it may contribute in any measure to their spiritual benefit, nothing hinders but I may return to Bideford: Return, and address them much in the same strain as Peter bespoke the impotent man: ‘Eloquence and oratory, learning and accomplishments have I none; but such as I have, in the name of Jesus, give I you,’ ”From your affectionate friend,

“J. HERVEY.”[161]

Hervey did return to Bideford; but, at the end of about two years, the new rector dismissed him, against the united request of his parishioners, who offered to maintain him at their own expense. This, to a man of Hervey’s exquisite sensitiveness of feeling, was no trivial trial. To the people of Bideford he was devotedly attached. He writes, while still among them:—

“I live in the very heart of the town. O that the immortal interests of its inhabitants may be ever on my heart! May I covet no other prosperity, and pursue no other happiness, than to be an instrument of doing them some spiritual good! I hope, I shall never forget my dear people of Bideford. I shall bear them upon my heart, when I retire into my study for reading, when I walk solitary in the fields for exercise, and when I bend my knees before the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

And again, after he had left them:—

“I rejoice to hear that dear Mr. Thompson[162] proposes to make you a monthly visit. O that his doctrine may distil as the dew! He will teach you the way of God more perfectly, for he has the unction of the Holy One, and knows the truth as it is in Jesus. There will not be wanting those who will censure his righteous dealings, and ridicule his zeal for the glorious Redeemer; but all those who have Jesus and His salvation, will say, ‘The Lord prosper you!’ If any of my acquaintances think it worth their while to hear from me, I shall, with as much pleasure, go to my desk and write to them, as I formerly went to their houses and conversed with them. I assure you, I would still seek to please my people for their good to edification.”

Before following Hervey to his next sphere of labour, further extracts from his correspondence, at and about this period, will help to illustrate his character.

Hervey was an earnestly religious man, a devout student of the holy Bible, and an extensive reader of pious authors, but he was also a lover of at least some of the light and popular literature of the age. Hence the following to his sister:—

“BIDEFORD, _October 12, 1742_.

“See how our judgments and inclinations alter in process of time! I once thought, I should make less use of the _Spectator_ than you; but now, I believe, the reverse of this is true; for we read one or more of these elegant and instructive papers every morning at breakfast, and they are served up with our tea, according to their original design. We reckon our repast imperfect without a little of Mr. Addison’s or Mr. Steele’s company.”

Such a confession is not surprising in a man who was now employed in writing “Meditations among the Tombs,” and “Reflections on a Flower Garden.”

Hervey seems to have left Bideford in the month of July, 1743; but, on his way to Northamptonshire, he halted at Bath, where he resided several weeks, and wrote a number of his most interesting letters. The following are extracts from some of them:—

“DEAR MRS. A⸺,—I am got as far as Bath, in my way homeward; and here I am likely to make a considerable stay. My friend, Mr. C⸺,[163] has taken a trip into Devon, and left me entrusted with his flock: so that, here is my abode till his return releases me.

“Sunday last[164] I spent at Bristol, attending Mr. Whitefield’s preaching. Never have I seen, never have I read, so remarkable an accomplishment of our Lord’s promise, as is evident in that indefatigable, powerful preacher. He does indeed believe in his Divine Master, and _out of his heart flow rivers of living waters_.

“This afternoon, some hopeful young persons came to visit me. They seemed to be in the number of those who are pressing forward unto the prize of their high calling in Christ Jesus. Perceiving them to be thus minded, I introduced a discourse concerning growth in grace,” etc.[165]

The next furnishes a glimpse of Bath a hundred and thirty years ago.

TO MRS. ORCHARD.

BATH, _August 10, 1743_.

“MADAM,—I expected to have been at home before this time; but, as I have dropped short at Bath, and am likely to continue here awhile, you will give me leave to transmit my best wishes from hence.

“There is a good deal of company at Bath. A new mineral water is found out, about a mile distant from the city. It is grown into considerable repute, and is much frequented. Several of the nobility and gentry drink it constantly. It will not bear bottling, and, for that reason, must be used on the spot. It is called the Lincomb Spa.

“The latter season is approaching, which, you know, madam, brings abundance of strangers with it. Some invalids resort to the English Bethesda; some, as lovers of pleasure, to this mart for all manner of diversions. Every one seems studious of making a gay and grand appearance. It is, I think, one of the most glittering places I ever beheld. ‘Anointed with oil, crowned with rose-buds, and decked with purple and fine linen,’ they sport away their days, chanting to the sound of the viol, drinking wine in bowls, and stretching themselves on couches of ivory; and, perhaps, never remembering the afflictions of Jesus, nor His love, ‘which is better than wine,’ nor His name, ‘which is as ointment poured forth.’

“While they are contriving every art to embellish their persons, let us, dear madam, give all diligence to be all-glorious within. While they are studying to outvie the butterfly and the tulip, let us be animated by higher views, and put on the Lord Jesus Christ,” etc....

“And now, madam, will you permit me to anticipate a remark which you will naturally make. Shall I spare you the necessity of saying, Why here is a sermon instead of a letter.

“Indeed, madam, if it be a sermon, the Bath finery has furnished me with a text.

“And why, good madam, should not the world expect such sermon-like epistles from us ministers? Why will not they let us be comformable to ourselves, and act in character? Would you not expect to hear of engagements and victories from a soldier just come from making a campaign? Would any one be surprised to find a merchant discoursing of foreign affairs, or canvassing the state of trade? Nay, is it not allowable even for our tailor and milliner to talk of the newest fashions and most modish colour? Why, then, should not the agents for the court of heaven treat of heavenly things? Why should not their whole conversation savour of their calling? Why should they be one thing when they bend the knee, and another when they put pen to paper? Why act one part when they speak from the pulpit, and quite a different one when they converse in the parlour? To say the truth, madam, if you do not allow me this liberty, I may pretend, indeed, but can never act the grateful, the affectionate, the faithful, humble servant.”

The following is an extract from an enormously long letter, of eighteen printed pages, addressed to a clergyman, who had been preaching in the Abbey Church.

“BATH, _August 27, 1743_.

“REVEREND SIR,—Sunday last, I happened not to be at the Abbey Church in the afternoon; but, conversing with a gentleman who was one of your auditors, I desired to have a summary account of your sermon. And, truly, he gave me such an account as both astonished and grieved me. You dignified worldly prosperity at so extraordinary a rate, and almost canonized the prosperous man. On the other hand, you vilified the glorious Jesus in so scandalous a manner, and set the Incarnate Godhead to one of the most ignoble and abominable offices. This made me encourage my friend to send you a word of admonition; and, when he declined, I could not forbear undertaking it myself. For, it would be unkind to you, sir, to perceive you under such grievous mistakes, and not to warn you of the error of your ways. Nor would it be less unfaithful to your Master, and my Master, to be informed of such preaching, and suffer it to pass current, without any animadversion.

“I understand, you first exhorted people to rejoice, when their circumstances were affluent and their worldly affairs prosperous. You enforced this palatable advice by the precepts of Scripture; and, lest it should not be received with a proper welcome, you further urged it on your hearers by the example of our blessed Saviour.

“In opposition to this strain of teaching, permit me to observe, 1. That, worldly prosperity is no sufficient cause for a Christian to rejoice. 2. That, it is often one of the sorest evils that can befal a person. And 3. Allow me to sketch out the true nature of spiritual prosperity; or discover what is that solid ground for rejoicing, which the oracles of God recommend.”

These were the three points explained and enforced in Hervey’s pungent and scorching letter, sent to the clerical sycophant, who, because the sinners, in his crowded church, were fashionable ones, imitated, not the honest Baptist of Scripture history, but the dangerous Syren of ancient mythology, and flattered the rich and elegantly dressed “children of wrath” who sat before him, instead of reproving their sins, and proclaiming their danger. Hervey was still young in years; but the unfaithful preacher deserved all he got.

This was not the only rebuke which Hervey administered during his brief residence in the gay city of the west. At this period, Bath was, perhaps, the most fashionable place in Great Britain; and the most renowned man in Bath was Richard, commonly called “Beau,” Nash. Four years before, this accomplished rake had endeavoured to prevent Wesley preaching in the city where, by a sort of general consent, he acted as the king of all the fops and fashionables there assembled; but Nash was not a match for the poor, persecuted Methodist; and, smarting from Wesley’s keen retort, and stung by an old woman’s taunts, was glad to sneak away from a scene of conflict of his own creating. Beau Nash was still in power; and now young Hervey addressed to him the following faithful, and caustic letter,—

“SIR,—This comes from your sincere friend, and one, who has your best interest deeply at heart. It comes on a design altogether important, and of no less consequence than your everlasting happiness; so that, it may justly challenge your careful regard. It is not to upbraid or reproach, much less to triumph and insult over your misconduct. No; it is pure benevolence,—it is disinterested good-will which prompts me to write; so that, I hope, I will not raise your resentment. However, be the issue what it will, I cannot bear to see you walk in the paths that lead to death, without warning you of your danger,—without sounding in your ears the awful admonition, ‘Return and live;—for why will you die?’ I beg of you to consider, whether you do not, in some measure, resemble those accursed children of Eli, whom, though they were famous in their generation, and men of renown, yet, vengeance suffered not to live. For my part, I may safely use the expostulation of the old priest,—‘Why do you such things? For I hear of your evil dealings by all this people; nay, my brother, for it is no good report I hear; you make the Lord’s people to transgress.’

“I have long observed and pitied you: and a most melancholy spectacle, I lately beheld, made me resolve to caution you, lest you also come into the same condemnation.

“I was, not long since, called to visit a poor gentleman, erewhile of the most robust body and gayest temper I ever knew; but, when I visited him, oh! how was the glory departed from him! I found him no more that sprightly and vivacious son of joy which he used to be; but languishing, pining away, and withering under the chastising hand of God: his limbs feeble and trembling; his countenance forlorn and ghastly; and the little breath he had left sobbed out in sorrowful sighs; his body hastening apace to the dust, to lodge in the silent grave, the land of darkness and desolation; his soul just going to God who gave it, preparing itself to wing its way to its long home, to enter upon an unchangeable and eternal state. When I was come up into his chamber, and had seated myself on his bed, he first cast a most wishful look upon me, and then began, as well as he was able, to speak. ‘Oh! that I had been wise, that I had known this, that I had considered my latter end! Ah! Mr. H⸺y, death is knocking at my doors; in a few hours more, I shall draw my last gasp, and, then, judgment, the tremendous judgment! How shall I appear, unprepared as I am, before the all-knowing and Omnipotent God? How shall I endure the day of His coming?’ When I mentioned, among other things, that _strict holiness_ which he had formerly so lightly esteemed, he replied, with a hasty eagerness, ‘Oh! that _holiness_ is the only thing I now long for. I have not words to tell you how highly I value it. I would gladly part with all my estate, large as it is, or a world, to obtain it. Now my benighted eyes are enlightened. I clearly discern the things that are excellent. What is there in the place whither I am going but God? Or what is there to be desired on earth but religion?’ But, if this God should restore you to health, said I, think you that you would alter your former course? ‘I call heaven and earth to witness,’ said he, ‘I would labour for holiness as I shall soon labour for life. As for riches and pleasures and the applauses of men, I account them as dross and dung; no more to my happiness than the feathers that lie on the floor. Oh! if the righteous Judge would try me once more; if He would but reprieve and spare me a little longer;—in what a spirit would I spend the remainder of my days! I would know no other business, aim at no other end, than perfecting myself in holiness. Whatever contributed to that,—every means of grace,—every opportunity of spiritual improvement,—should be dearer to me than thousands of gold and silver. But alas! why do I amuse myself with fond imaginations? The best resolutions are now insignificant, because they are too late. The day in which I should have worked is over and gone; and I see a sad horrible night approaching, bringing with it the blackness of darkness for ever. Heretofore, (woe is me!) when God called, I refused; when He invited, I was one of them that made excuse; now, therefore, I receive the reward of my deeds. Fearfulness and trembling are come upon me. I smart; I am in anguish already; and yet this is but the beginning of sorrows! It doth not yet appear what I shall be;—but sure I shall be ruined, undone, and destroyed with an everlasting destruction.’

“This sad scene I saw with my eyes; these words, and many more equally affecting, I heard with my ears; and soon after attended the unhappy gentleman to his tomb. The poor breathless skeleton spoke in such an accent, and with so much earnestness, that I could not easily forget him or his words; and, as I was musing upon this sorrowful subject, I remembered Mr. Nash;—I remembered you, sir;—for I discerned too near an agreement and correspondence between the deceased and yourself. They, are alike, said I, in their ways; and what shall hinder them from being alike in their end? The course of their actions was equally full of sin and folly; and why should not the period of them be equally full of horror and distress? I am grievously afraid for the survivor, least, as he lives the life, so he should die the death of this wretched man, and his latter end should be like his.

“For this cause, therefore, I take my pen, to advise,—to admonish,—nay, to request of you to repent while you have opportunity, if happily you may find grace and forgiveness. Yet a moment, and you _may_ die: yet a little while, and you _must_ die; and will you go down with infamy and despair to the grave, rather than depart in peace, and with hopes full of immortality?

“But I must tell you plainly, sir, with the utmost freedom, that, your present behaviour is not the way to reconcile yourself to God. You are so far from making atonement to offended justice, that you are aggravating the former account, and heaping up an increase of wrath against the day of wrath. For what say the Scriptures? Those books which, at the consummation of all things, the Ancient of days shall open, and judge you by every jot and tittle therein—what say these sacred volumes? Why, they testify and declare to every soul of man, ‘That, whosoever liveth in pleasure is dead while he liveth’; so that, so long as you roll on in a continued circle of sensual delights and vain entertainments, you are dead to all the purposes of piety and virtue; you are odious to God, as a corrupt carcass putrifying in the church-yard; you are as far from doing your duty, or working out your salvation, or restoring yourself to the divine favour, as a heap of dry bones nailed up in a coffin is from vigour and activity.

“Think, sir, I conjure you, think upon this, if you have any inclination to escape the fire that never will be quenched. Would you be rescued from the fury and fierce anger of Almighty God? Would you be delivered from weeping, and wailing, and incessant gnashing of teeth? Sure you would! Then, I exhort you as a friend; I beseech you as a brother; I charge you as a messenger from the great God, in His own most solemn words: ‘Cast away from you your transgressions; make you a new heart and a new spirit; so iniquity shall not be your ruin.’

“Perhaps you may be disposed to contemn this and its serious import, or to recommend it to your companions as a fit subject for raillery; but, let me tell you beforehand, that for this, as well as for other things, God will bring you into judgment. He sees me now write. He will observe you while you read. He notes down my words in His book. He will note down your consequent procedure. So that, not upon me, but, upon your own self, will the neglecting or despising of my sayings turn. ‘If thou be wise, thou shalt be wise for thyself; if thou scornest, thou alone shalt bear it.’

“Be not concerned, sir, to know my name. It is enough that you will know this hereafter. Tarry but a little, till the Lord, even the most mighty God, shall call the heaven from above, and the earth, that He may judge His people, and then you will see me face to face. There shall I be ready, at the dread tribunal, to joy and rejoice with you, if you regard my admonitions, and live; or to be—what God prevent—by not inclining your heart to receive this friendly admonition.”

This was plain dealing; but was greatly needed. To write such a letter, to such a man,—an accomplished gallant, exercising sovereignty over nearly all the fashionable residents of a gambling, dissipated city,—required no ordinary courage in a young clergyman, who had not yet attained his thirtieth year. How it was received, and what were its effects, we are left to guess; but it is a curious fact, that, it was not destroyed, but was found among Nash’s papers after his decease.

Leaving Bath, Hervey, in October, 1743, became curate to his father, at Weston-Favel, a small village of three or four hundred inhabitants, near Northampton; and here, in this rural seclusion, he continued to reside (with the exception of a short interval) until his death, in 1758.

His pastoral duties were comparatively light; but his time was not unoccupied. Compared with the career of Wesley and Whitefield, who were living a rough, itinerant life, this settlement of Hervey was a perfect contrast; but, it must be borne in mind, that, Hervey was physically unfit for the out-door preaching, which his two old Oxford friends were practising. His voice was unsuitable for such exercises. The exposure to rain, frost, and snow, would have made his brief life briefer still. Besides, the delicate gentleness of his nature totally disqualified him for encountering the hardships, privations, and persecutions of Wesley and Whitefield’s wandering life. It would be hasty to say, that, he was lacking in faith, love, zeal, prayer, and religious energy. He possessed all these in a far more than ordinary degree. In this respect he had but few equals, and scarcely any superiors. The spirit was willing, but the flesh was weak. To imitate Wesley, Whitefield, Grimshaw, Berridge, was simply impossible; but Hervey did all he could. He most conscientiously cared for the souls of his handful of parishioners; and as conscientiously employed his leisure, not only in writing long religious letters to his absent friends, but, in composing books, which, as every one admits, breathe the devoutest piety, and which have been read, with pleasure and with profit, by thousands belonging to each successive generation during the last hundred and twenty years. Hervey’s life was not a failure, because the last fifteen years of it were spent in a secluded country village.

Apart from his ministerial duties, the first labour to which his attention was devoted, after his settlement at Weston-Favel, was the finishing and the publication of the well-known works begun in Devonshire, namely, “Meditations among the Tombs,” and “Reflections on a Flower Garden.” Hence the following:—

“AT MR. THOMAS HERVEY’S, IN BASINGHALL STREET, LONDON, _May 23, 1745_.

“DEAR MR. ⸺,—You will be surprised when you observe the place from whence this letter is dated. Prevailed on by the kind solicitations of my friends, I have taken a trip to London, where I propose to continue about a fortnight.

“Your last two favours I received together. I thank you for the specimen of types. I hope better paper is intended to be used, than that whereon the types were printed; which I think coarse and slovenly. I am most inclined to send abroad the pieces in a matrimonial state: I mean, not in separate pamphlets, but united in a volume. They seem to be a contrast to each other, and may, perhaps, mutually recommend one another. Probably the ‘Meditations among the Tombs’ may carry too doleful an aspect; and, if not enlivened a little with the brighter scenes of ‘The Garden,’ may terrify the reader, and create disgust. I shall take an opportunity of talking with Mr. Richardson on this affair; and shall, if he takes the trouble of perusing it, put one of the letters into his hands: though it must be the mourning piece, because I have no copy of the gayer essay, but what is in shorthand. What you hint at, with regard to the largeness of the character, that old and enfeebled eyes may be able to read it, is perfectly right. I shall desire that this suggestion may be observed.

“I hope your ingenious friend has examined the piece, with a kind severity, by this time. It will be a favour if you will give me a line while I abide in the city; and a greater, if you will inform me of Mr. S—h—m’s opinion, and transmit me some of his remarks. Before I sent the ‘Reflections’ to Bath, Mr. Payne, brother to our old acquaintance, gave them a reading. He frankly acquainted me, in a letter, both with what he liked, and what he disapproved of. He advised me to expunge the long note relating to Mr. Pope’s opinion.[166] He is a Fellow of King’s College, and a very ingenious scholar. Upon the whole, he declared himself pleased with the performance, and marked out several places that struck his fancy in a peculiar manner.

“My heart’s desire and prayer to God is, that it may be, in some degree, serviceable to the interests of religion: which end, of all others most desirable and important, if it may be so happy as to promote, I shall rejoice in the publication. Otherwise, may Providence, which discerns the remotest consequences of every transaction, not give it an imprimatur.

“I have no motto for the thoughts among the tombs.[167] Does any fine passage, from the ancients or moderns, proper to introduce and give credit to such serious remarks, occur to your mind?

“Now, perhaps, you will expect to hear how I proceed in London. I intend, sir, to see and hear as much as I possibly can, in the space allotted for my stay. I have thoughts of going, incog., to the places of teaching and worship, frequented by persons of every denomination. ‘Try all things,’ is the Apostle’s permission; ‘Hold fast that which is good,’ is his direction. I shall indulge myself in the one; may I be enabled to put in practice the other!

“I believe it will be my most prudent course not to visit a certain lady. If I debar myself that pleasure, it will be entirely owing to an apprehension of wounding my own ease and tranquility. Who knows what impressions may be made by an amiable person and engaging behaviour, heightened by the exercise of good sense, and completed by an apparent regard for religion and eternity? Indeed, sir, I must own, my heart is not proof against such charms.

“Since I wrote the preceding, I have heard our old acquaintance.[168] He preached upon, ‘The gift of the Holy Ghost:’ showed what fruits it produced in the heart and life; then applied the whole by way of examination, in a searching and very forcible manner. May I never forget what was uttered this night! Might I but experience it, I should bless the day in which I was born. I have room to add no more, than my service to Mrs. ⸺; and that the favour must be speedy, if you intend me a letter while in London.

“Yours affectionately,

“J. HERVEY.”[169]

An extract from another letter, on the same subject, may not be unacceptable. Probably it was addressed to Dr. Doddridge.

“WESTON-FAVEL, _Nov. 16, 1745_.

“SIR,—It is not easy to express the satisfaction, I received from your agreeable and useful conversation this afternoon. I rejoice to find that there are gentlemen of genius, learning, and politeness, who dare profess a supreme value for the Scriptures, and are not ashamed of the cross of Christ.

“This brings the dedication and the preface, which are to introduce a little essay, entitled, ‘Meditations among the Tombs,’ and ‘Reflections on a Flower Garden,’ in two letters to a lady. I hope, sir, in consequence of your kind promise, you will please to peruse them with the file in your hand. The severity of the critic, and the kindness of the friend, in this case, will be inseparable. The evangelical strain, I believe, must be preserved; because, otherwise, the introductory thoughts will not harmonize with the subsequent, the porch will be unsuitable to the building. But, if you perceive any meanness of expression, any quaintness of sentiment, or any other impropriety and inelegance, I shall acknowledge it as a very singular favour, if you will be so good as to discover and correct such blemishes.

“I hope, sir, my end in venturing to publish is a hearty desire to serve, in some little degree, the interests of Christianity, by endeavouring to set some of its most important truths in a light that may both entertain and edify. As I profess this view, I am certain, your affectionate regard for the most excellent religion imaginable, will incline you to be concerned for the issue of such an attempt; and, therefore, to contribute to its success, both by bestowing your animadversions upon these small parts, and by speaking of the whole (when it shall come abroad) with all that candour which is natural to the Christian, and will be so greatly needed by this new adventurer in letters, who is, etc.,

“J. HERVEY.”

Hervey’s book, referred to in these letters, was published in 1746, the size, 8vo., the pages, 216. The lady to whom it was dedicated was the daughter of his friend, the Rev. Mr. Thompson, Vicar of St. Gennys, Cornwall. The book is too well known to render an account of its contents necessary; but a brief extract from the preface will show the objects at which he aimed.

“The first of these occasional Meditations begs leave to remind my readers of their latter end; and would invite them to set, not their houses only, but, which is inexpressibly more needful, their souls in order; that they may be able, through all the intermediate stages, to look forward upon their approaching exit, without any anxious apprehension.

“The other attempts to sketch out some little traces of the All-sufficiency of our Redeemer, for the grand and gracious purposes of our everlasting salvation; that a sense of His unutterable dignity and infinite perfections may incite us to regard Him with sentiments of the most profound veneration, to long for an assured interest in His merits, and to trust in His powerful mediation, with an affiance not to be shaken by any temptation, not to be shared with any performances of our own.”

During the year 1746, Hervey wrote to a friend several long and very valuable letters on the doctrine of the Trinity. These may be found in his collected works, and are well worth reading. He also, as was his usage, carried on an extensive correspondence concerning experimental and practical religion; and his letters, belonging to this class, though occasionally verbose and fanciful, are characterized by the devoutest piety. None but a godly man could have written them; and none but godly people will peruse them. Many of them are almost little sermons, and all of them are rich in religious truth. In the days of penny postage, letters like these are rarely written; and it is greatly to be feared, that, English biographers in future centuries, will find a vexatious lack of biographical material belonging to this. People are too busy to write long letters; and, were it otherwise, the removal of the heavy postage of olden times has taken away one of the chief stimulants to make a letter longer than the pressing necessities of the case demand. Besides, locomotion is now so easy, cheap, and rapid, that friends, instead of sending their secrets to each other, in a written form, prefer to make a railway trip, and to tell them _viva voce_. Things were widely different a hundred years ago; and, hence, the extensiveness, richness, the fulness, and detail, the confidential gossip, and the heart-outpourings found in the correspondence of our English ancestors. They wrote letters: their grandsons send telegrams. The letters are of the greatest use to those who wish to become biographers. The telegrams are usually burnt as soon as they are read. In former days, letters were too long, interesting, and valuable to be destroyed. At the present day, they are too brief and common-place, to be worth preserving. The results of such a change in the epistolary habits of the people, are not felt at present; but they will be bitterly lamented in the approaching future.

Not to mention other distinguished men belonging to the past, the most eminent of the Oxford Methodists all excelled in epistolary correspondence. Wesley’s collected works alone contain nine hundred and twenty-three of his private letters; Whitefield’s works, when published, even more than a hundred years ago, contained one thousand four hundred and sixty-five; while the works of short-lived Hervey, by far the _longest_ letter writer of the three, contain two hundred and nine, to all of which must be added hundreds more, published in other forms.

In a book like this, it is impracticable to do more than very sparingly employ such copious materials; and nearly all that is attempted, in the case of Hervey, is to give only extracts containing incidents. These, however, shall be as exhaustive as possible. Proceeding on this plan, the following belong to the year when Hervey first became an author.

Hervey’s charity to the poor was only limited by his means, and even such a limit was sometimes overstepped. At Bideford, for instance, such was his unbounded benevolence, that, to prevent embarrassment, his friends practised upon him the innocent deception of borrowing his money when he received his salary, lest he should disperse it all in benefactions; and then repaying it as his necessities required. All the profits of his ‘Meditations,’ amounting to £700 pounds, he distributed in charitable donations; and directed that any profit, arising from the sale of his books after his decease, should be used in the same manner.

“This,” said he, “I have devoted to God. I will, on no account, apply it to any worldly uses. I write, not for profit, nor fame, but, to serve the cause of God; and as He hath blessed my attempt, I think myself bound to relieve the distresses of my fellow-creatures with the profits that come from this quarter.”

The following extract is in harmony with this:—

“WESTON-FAVEL, _Feb. 2, 1746_.

“DEAR MR. W⸺,—Your spouse informed me, you were concerned, that the little money, I left in your hands, had not been remitted to me; but, dear sir, I am glad on this account. If it may be the means of cherishing one of the least of our Redeemer’s brethren, I rejoice that it has not been returned.

“You did right in delivering a guinea to Mrs. Williams, for the benefit of poor widow Cole. If Molly Lake, or Betty Peak, are in want, by all means, let them be relieved. Tell them, I present them each with a crown; and bid them think, if a poor mortal, a wretched sinner, is so ready to help them, according to his ability, how much more ready is the infinitely compassionate Saviour of the world to pity all their miseries, and comfort them in all their troubles. Were it in my power, I would willingly do more for them; but let them remember that the power of the blessed Jesus knows no limits. Oh, it is impossible to imagine how rich our Divine Master is in goodness, and how mighty in power!”[170]

Every one knows that, in 1745, England was thrown into a state of the utmost excitement, by the landing of Charles Edward Stuart, and his Scotch and Irish adherents, and by the futile march to Manchester, and subsequent retreat to Culloden. The following refers to this and other matters:—

“WESTON-FAVEL, _Feb. 9, 1746_.

“Thanks to you, dear sir, for your kind wishes. Blessed be the Divine Providence! I am now able to inform you, that what you wished is accomplished. I have had one of the most agreeable losses I ever met with. I have lost my indisposition, and am, in a manner, quite well.

“I congratulate you, sir, and my country, on the good news received from the north.

“How do you like Stackhouse’s History of the Bible? I am sure, he has one advantage superior to all the historians of the world, namely, that, the facts, which he relates, are more venerable for their antiquity, more admirable for their grandeur, and more important on account of their universal usefulness. The Scriptures are finely calculated to furnish the most exquisite entertainment to the imagination, from those three principal sources, mentioned by Mr. Addison,—the great, the beautiful, and the new.”

The next was written to his Cornish friend, the Rev. Mr. Thompson, of St. Gennys,—a gentleman possessed of considerable property, and whose family seat was at Brynsworthy, near Barnstaple, in Devonshire.

“WESTON, _June 28, 1746_.

“DEAR MR. THOMPSON,—Your last gave me hopes of the speedy receipt of another letter; in pleasing expectation of which, I have waited thus long. But now my pen refuses to be restrained, and, therefore, writes to the friend whom its master honours, and loves from his very soul.

“I presume, this will find you at Brynsworthy, that agreeable seat, where, three years ago, I passed several delightful weeks. Oh! when shall I spend my hours of conversation so much to my improvement!

“I very much want to know something relating to the condition and conduct of my old acquaintance. When were you at the Abbey?[171] When did you favour Bideford with your company? How goes on the good cause among the people lately committed to my care? How are your lectures prospered at your own and Mr. B⸺’s Churches?[172] Have you heard of Mr. S⸺? Where is he settled, and how does he proceed? Is Mr. W⸺’s abode in your parts? I hope, his manner of life answers your expectations of him; and, I hope, your acts of kindness and words of exhortation have not been in vain. Have you received any tidings of, or from, Mr. Walker?

“One more question permit me to ask, and I have done with my interrogatories. Did not a certain Cornish clergyman take a journey to Exeter some time ago, on a very particular occasion? Was he not summoned to appear before the bishop of the diocese, in order to give an account of his behaviour and zeal?

“If you have any knowledge of this remarkable affair, (and I believe it will be impossible to apply to one who knows it more perfectly), be pleased to favour me with a narrative of its occasion, its circumstances, and its issue. I imagine an answer to this one query, will furnish materials for a very long letter.[173]

“We had this week a very heavy storm of rain, attended with a surprising darkness, awful thunders, and fierce lightnings. At a celebrated fair, that was held upon a spacious common in this neighbourhood, several persons were struck down with the flashes, and one poor man, with two horses, killed upon the spot.

“I congratulate you, dear sir, and my country in general, on the late most important and happy victory obtained by the gallant Duke of Cumberland. We can never be sufficiently thankful to the God of the armies of Israel for turning the scale of war in our favour at that ever-memorable event.[174]

“My little piece, entitled ‘Meditations among the Tombs’ and ‘Reflections on a Flower Garden,’ has been published a considerable time.[175] I have taken the liberty to dedicate it to Miss R. Thompson; and, was I near, or had I the opportunity of conveyance, would desire Miss C. Thompson to accept one of the books. The thing, I am told, finds acceptance with the public, greater indeed than I durst expect. Mr. Richardson, the author of ‘Pamela,’ is my printer. Seven hundred and fifty copies are struck off; the printer and writer are joint adventurers with regard to pecuniary advantages, if any such should accrue from the sale. If, at some leisure moment, you should happen to cast a glance upon the lines, mark, dear sir, their blemishes, correct their improprieties, and improve them into a greater neatness, in case a second edition should be demanded. O may they tend, in some small degree, to awaken my readers into a serious concern for their eternal state, and lead their minds unto the Rock of ages, the Hope of all the ends of the earth, Jesus Christ! May they, under the propitious influence of grace, answer this desirable end; or else let them share the fate of literary rubbish, and be swept away into utter oblivion!

“Be pleased to make my most respectful and affectionate compliments acceptable to Mrs. Thompson. I wish Miss Thompson may be a living picture of that amiable and virtuous woman, whose price is above rubies. If your trusty friend, Mr. B (ennet) is with you, pray tell him I love him, because he loves Mr. Thompson.

“Should you inquire after my state, you will find a description of it, Judges viii. 4—‘Faint, yet pursuing.’ Cease not, dear sir, to pray, that, the hands which hang down may be lifted up, and the feeble knees strengthened, to walk in the way everlasting.

“In your last, you inquired after a very holy woman, whose name is Mary. I have asked Dr. Doddridge about her. He declined giving me a particular account of her intercourse with heaven, and only said, that, she was a very sincere and devout soul, but somewhat addicted to chimerical and extravagant imaginations. The Doctor desired me to transmit his cordial good wishes and service to yourself and spouse.

“Let it not be long before dear Mr. Thompson, with a letter, delights, animates, and comforts, his most obliged and affectionate friend,

“JAMES HERVEY.”

The success of the “Meditations and Reflections” was such, as to encourage Hervey to attempt another work of the same description. Hence, the following letter, probably addressed either to his friend Dr. Doddridge or Dr. Stonehouse:—

“WESTON-FAVEL, _Nov. 1, 1746_.

“DEAR SIR,—This morning, I received your favour. The day lowers, and threatens rain, which debars me from the pleasure of paying you my thanks in person.

“Mr. Huygens[176] I hope to read very carefully; but, I believe, it will be proper to take heed of adopting into my plans any notions that are difficult and abstruse. I would have everything so perspicuous, that, the dimmest understanding may apprehend my meaning; so obvious, that, he who runs may read. Let me lay before you a little sketch of my design, with a request, that, you would alter the general order, and make retrenchments, or additions of particular incidents, as you shall think most expedient.

“A contemplative walk. The approach of evening, and gradual extinction of light. The advantages of solitude. The stillness of the universe. The coolness of the atmosphere. Darkness, and its usefulness to mankind. Sleep, and its beneficial effects. Dreams, and their extravagance. A glow-worm glimmering. An owl shrieking. A nightingale singing. The very different circumstances of mankind; some revelling and carousing; some agonizing and dying; A knell sounding; The notion of ghosts walking; The moon, with its various appearances, and serviceableness to our globe;—the heavenly bodies—their number, size, courses, distances,—display many of the glorious attributes of their Creator; some of which are specified. They teach nothing of redemption; this, the peculiar prerogative of revelation—Christ, the day-star from on high, that points out, and makes clear the way of salvation.

“These are some of the subjects which, I imagined, might be admitted into the composition of a Night-piece. If others occur to your mind more pleasing, or more striking, be pleased to suggest them.

“I am glad to find, by the quotation from Mr. Locke, that your esteem and veneration for the Scriptures are on the increasing hand. May we be persuaded, even more and more, of the incomparable excellency of those sacred volumes! This one consideration, that they are the Book of God, is a higher recommendation of them, than could be displayed in ten thousand panegyric orations. For my part, I purpose to addict myself, with more incessant assiduity, to this delightful and Divine study. Away, my Homer! I have no more need of being entertained by you, since Job and the prophets furnish me with images much more magnificent, and lessons infinitely more important. Away, my Horace! Nor shall I suffer any loss by your absence, while the sweet singer of Israel tunes his lyre, and charms me with the finest flights of fancy, and inspirits me with the noblest strains of devotion. And even my prime favourite, my Virgil, may withdraw; since, in Isaiah, I enjoy all his majesty of sentiment, all his correctness of judgment, all his beautiful propriety of diction, and⸺But I must have done. The messenger waits; he can stay no longer, than barely to allow me leisure to subscribe myself, dear sir, etc.,

“J. HERVEY.”

While Hervey was thus occupied in literary pursuits, he was neither unmindful of his flock, nor of the general claims of Christian charity. Among other public institutions in which he felt deeply interested, the county hospital of Northampton was not the least important In a letter, apparently to Dr. Stonehouse, he writes:—

“WESTON-FAVEL, _November 22, 1746_.

“DEAR SIR,—I heartily applaud the zeal you show for the spiritual welfare of the patients. The infirmary would be an inestimable blessing, if it might be productive of a reformation in the persons whom it admits and discharges. As distressed objects will, in all probability, resort to it from all parts of the county, a change wrought in their hearts, and a renewal begun in their lives, might be a happy means of diffusing religion far and near. I hope the clergy, concerned in the management, will concur in the prosecution of so desirable an end. I wish some proper scheme was contrived for this, in which I might bear some little part, without giving umbrage to my brethren, or alarming their jealousy. I have thought of offering to give the patients a kind of lecture or exhortation once a week; but, sometimes doubtful whether such a proposal would meet with acceptance, and sometimes checked by the infirmities of my constitution, I have hitherto neglected to mention the affair. However, I now venture to submit it to your consideration. To this, or any other more advisable method, I should very readily contribute the best of my assistance.”

In 1747, Hervey joined himself to a society, whose object was that of reading together the Old Testament in English, and the New Testament in Greek. This assembly, which was not to “consist of more than ten or twelve individuals, lest an increased number should produce confusion or dissensions,” met on the first Tuesday morning in every month, and, oddly enough, in different inns, agreed upon, from time to time, by the majority. Each member was chairman of the meetings, in alphabetical succession, and read a chapter out of each of the two Testaments, pausing at the end of every verse for inquiries and reflections. Every one also was expected to give an account of some religious book, which had been read by him since the last time of meeting; all dined together, at the expense of eighteen-pence a head; and each one subscribed half a crown a month for charitable uses. The meetings, including an hour for dinner, lasted seven hours in the summer season, and six in winter. Hervey drew up two beautiful forms of prayer, to be used by the respective members, before and after they came together. The society was unique, but useful. None but gentlemen of social position and of good education were qualified for admission; and it was certainly to the honour of the neighbourhood in which Hervey lived, that, in that age of fox-hunting, carousing, and roistering, such an assembly was formed.

Meanwhile, Hervey was busily occupied in completing his “Contemplations on the Night”; and also in publishing a second edition of the volume which he had issued in 1746. References to these and other matters will be found in the following extracts from his letters.

“WESTON-FAVEL, _February, 1747_.

“DEAR SIR,—I have heard nothing from my printer during all this interval. What can be the reason of his long silence and great negligence I cannot imagine. But, this week, it occurred to my mind, that, if he delays the second edition at this rate, I may possibly be able to prepare the third letter[177] to accompany it. Accordingly, I have postponed other business, and applied myself wholly to this work. I have transcribed some part of the intended piece, and sent it for your perusal. Pray be so good as to examine it narrowly, and favour me with your remarks and improvements, on a separate paper. There are, I fear, besides more material faults, several mistakes in the copy, owing to my want of leisure to review it. I suppose the remainder of my design, when completed, will consist of about the same number of pages.

“If I live till Monday, I propose to visit my patient at the infirmary; and, if company happens to be agreeable, will take the pleasure of spending an hour with a certain valuable and very much esteemed friend at Northampton. If you are not able to guess the person I mean, you shall soon be informed by,

Dear sir, yours, etc.,

“J. HERVEY.”

“WESTON-FAVEL, _April 12, 1747_.

“DEAR SIR,—I have folded down a corner of the leaf at the place where your perusal left off. There is a note or two subjoined to the preceding pages, which I wish you would please to examine. My humble service to Dr. ⸺. I desire He will write his remarks and corrections on a separate paper. What think you of the following lines for a motto?—

“‘Night opes the noblest scenes, and sheds an awe, Which gives these venerable scenes full weight, And deep impression on th’ intender’d heart.’[178]

“Your plan for forming a Christian society,[179] and regulating our interviews, I greatly approve. It seems to me to be complete. I heartily wish to have it carried into execution, and hope it will be productive of considerable comfort and advantage to the members; and not to them only, but, by rendering them more useful in their respective stations, to many others.

“I hope you have perused the remainder of the manuscript: and cannot but wish you would give the whole a second reading. The unknown importance of what we print, inclines me to urge this request. Who can tell how long it may continue, and into what hands it may come? I almost tremble at such a thought, lest I should write unadvisedly with my pen; and injure, instead of serve, the best of causes.

“I shall soon create you a second task, by transmitting for your correction, twenty folio pages of the Remarks on the Stars, and Serious Improvements,

“Yours, etc.,

“J. HERVEY.”

“_June 2, 1747._

“REV. AND DEAR SIR,—My father is wonderfully recovered. Had he lived in the times of superstition, for ought I know, his uncommon disorder might have been ascribed to witchcraft, and his speedy recovery passed current for a miracle. We thought him to be on the very brink of death; but now he lives, and regains his strength daily. Last Sunday, he read prayers in his church; and intends next Sunday to fill the pulpit.

“I am just now going to our visitation, held at Northampton. I shall appear as a stranger in our Jerusalem! knowing few, and known by fewer. Methinks, there is something august and venerable in a meeting of the clergy; especially if one looks upon them as so many agents for the invisible God, and envoys from the court of heaven. I hope to be put in mind of that awful day, when the Lord Jesus Christ, that great Shepherd of the sheep, and Bishop of souls, will make His entrance in the clouds of heaven.” Etc.

“J. HERVEY.”

From the above, it is evident, that, though Hervey had now spent several years at Weston-Favel, his acquaintance with the clergy of the diocese was extremely limited. Why was this? Was it because he lived, to a great extent, the life of a literary recluse? Or was it because he had been a Methodist? Or was it because of his known friendship with Dr. Doddridge, the great and good Dissenter of Northampton? Whatever the reason, the fact existed; and, in this respect, he was in the same position as his old friends Wesley, Whitefield, and Ingham.

The next extract is valuable, and ought to be seriously considered by all who are chargeable with the same criminal inadvertencies. It is also a beautiful instance of Hervey’s extreme delicacy in administering reproof.

“WESTON-FAVEL, _June 27, 1747_.

“MY DEAR FRIEND,—Was it you, dear sir, or I, that, when a certain passage in Scripture happened to be mentioned, treated it, not indeed with contemptuous disdain, but, with too ludicrous an air? descanted on it, in a sportive and frolicsome manner, in order to create a little pleasantry? If I was the person that indulged this improper levity, I beseech you to rebuke me, and severely too. Though my design might be innocent, my conduct was apparently wrong. That infinitely precious and important book, should be always held in the highest veneration. Whatever the Divine Spirit vouchsafes to dictate, should be thought and spoke of by mortals, with gratitude, dutifulness, and awe. It is the character of a religious man, that, he trembles at God’s Word; and it is said of the great Jehovah, that, He has magnified His name and His Word above all things.

“Who was it, dear sir, that lent to our valuable friend, that vile book, ‘Le Sopha,’ and yet wrote by Crebillon,[180] with an enchanting spirit of elegance, which must render the mischief palatable, and the bane even delicious? I wonder, that, your kind and benevolent heart could recommend arsenic for a regale. It puts me in mind of the empoisoned shirt presented to Hercules. I am sure, you did not think on it, or else you would no more have transmitted such a pestilent treatise to the perusal of a friend, than you would transmit to him a packet of goods from a country depopulated by the plague. If that polluting French book still remains in your study, let me beg of you to make it perform quarantine in the flames.

“Dear sir, bestow a thought on these things. If the remonstrances are wrong, I willingly retract them; if right, you will not pronounce me impertinent. Love and friendship dictate what I write; and the only end I have in view, is the holiness, the usefulness, the happiness, the final salvation of my much esteemed friend.”

In July, 1747, Hervey completed his “Contemplations on the Night,” which he dedicated to the youthful son of his deceased friend, Mr. Orchard, of Stoke Abbey. He was also diligently occupied in the preparation of his “Contemplations on the Starry Heavens,” and his “Winter Piece”; hence the following, from a letter by Dr. Doddridge, dated,

“_July 6, 1747_.

“I have just been writing to my good friend, Mr. Hervey; whose manuscript on The Stars, I have reviewed with pleasure. I hope it will be means of raising the hearts of many _above_ the stars; and of fixing them on Him, who is, so much more than anything material, ‘The bright and morning Star.’ I see, in Mr. Hervey, an example of diligence, humility, candour, and universal goodness, which I am sure ought to keep _me_ humble, and, I hope, in some measure, does so.”[181]

The next, which appears to have been sent to some friend in the neighbourhood of Stoke Abbey, refers to the same subject; and also shows, that the state of Hervey’s health was becoming serious:—

“WESTON-FAVEL, _August 8, 1747_.

“DEAREST MR. ⸺,—”I ought to take shame to myself, for suffering so kind a letter, received from so valuable a friend, to remain so long unanswered. Upon no other consideration than that of my enfeebled and languishing constitution, can I excuse myself, or hope for your pardon. My health is continually upon the decline, and the springs of life are all relaxing. Medicine is baffled, and my physician, Dr. Stonehouse, who is a dear friend to his patient, and a lover of the Lord Jesus, pities, but cannot succour me. This blessing, however, together with a multitude of others, the Divine goodness vouchsafes, to gild the gloom of decaying nature, that, I am racked with no pain, and enjoy the free, undisturbed exercise of my understanding.

“I am much obliged to you for carrying my message to Stoke Abbey, with so much speed, and conveying to me, with equal despatch, a satisfactory answer. When you visit the worthy family again, be pleased to inform Mr. Orchard, that the piece is sent to the press, and, after some corrections made in the dedication, addressed to my godson.[182] It is my humble request to him, and my earnest prayer to God, that, he may regard it, not merely as a complimentary form, but as the serious and pathetic advice of his father’s intimate acquaintance, and his soul’s sincere friend; who, in all probability, will be cut off from every other opportunity of fulfilling his sacred engagements, and admonishing him of whatever a Christian ought to know and believe to his soul’s health.

“I forget whether I told you, that, the last work will be divided into two parts; will be full as large as the first two letters; and, therefore, the whole will be disposed into two small pocket volumes, on a very neat paper, with an elegant type, in duodecimo. But a convenient number of the new essays will be printed in the octavo size and character, for the satisfaction of those who purchased the former edition, and may possibly be willing to complete their book. It was a considerable time before I could think of a title for the last pieces, that suited their nature, and expressed their design. At length, I have determined to style them, ‘Contemplations on the Night,’ and ‘Contemplations on the Starry Heavens.’

“Now I apprehend myself to be so near the close of life, with eternity full in my view, perhaps, my dear friend would be glad to know my sentiments of things in this awful situation.

“I think, then, dear sir, that, we are extremely mistaken, and sustain a mighty loss in our most important interests, by reading so much, and praying so little. I think also, we fail in our duty, and thwart our comfort, by studying God’s Holy Word no more. I have, for my part, been too fond of reading everything elegant and valuable, that has been penned in our own language; and been particularly charmed with the historians, orators, and poets of antiquity. But were I to renew my studies, I would take my leave of these accomplished trifles. I would resign the delights of modern wit, amusement, and eloquence, and devote my attention to the Scriptures of truth. I would adopt the Apostles’ resolution, and give myself to prayer and to the Word.

“With regard to my public ministry, my chief aim should be, to beget in my people’s minds a deep sense of their depraved, guilty, undone, condition; and a clear believing conviction of the all-sufficiency of Christ, by His blood, His righteousness, His intercession, and His Spirit, to save them to the uttermost. I would always observe, to labour for them in my closet, as well as in the pulpit; and wrestle in secret supplication for their spiritual and eternal welfare. For, unless God take this work into His own hand, what mortal is sufficient for these things?

“My hope, my whole hope, with regard to my future and immortal state, is in the Lord Redeemer. Jesus is all my trust His merits are my staff, when I pass through the valley of the shadow of death. His merits are my anchor, when I launch into the boundless ocean of eternity.

“Though the days are come upon me, in which I have reason to say of worldly things, I have no pleasure in them; yet, I find a secret satisfaction in this consideration, that, to you and to others, I may be permitted, even when dead, to speak in my little treatises. May they, when the author is gone hence, testify, with some small degree of efficacy, concerning Jesus! May they fan the flame of love to His person, and strengthen the principle of faith in His merits! Once more, dear sir, adieu!

“J. HERVEY.”

Hervey was afflicted in person; he was also afflicted in the sufferings of his friends. Hence the following, written in the month of December, 1747.

“Your last found me on the recovering hand, getting strength and spirits, though by slow degrees. Soon after I received your favour, a messenger came from London, bringing us the alarming news, that my youngest brother was extremely ill. My father’s bowels yearned, and his heart bled; but the infirmities of age, and an unwieldy constitution, hindered him from taking the journey. Upon me, therefore, the office fell. Feeble and languid as I was, there was no rejecting such a call. Accordingly, I took coach, and, in two days, arrived safe in London, where I found my poor brother (the packer) seized with a most violent fever. He was attended by two eminent physicians; but they proved vain helpers. For a considerable time, his stout constitution struggled with the disease; but, at last, was forced to yield. After attending his sick-bed for several days, I had the melancholy task of closing his dear eyes, and resigning him up to death. Oh, the uncertainty of mortal things! Who could have thought that I should survive my brother? I, sickly and enervated; he, always lively and vigorous. In flourishing circumstances, and blessed with prosperity in his business; but now removed to the dark, inactive, silent tomb! Lately married to a beautiful and blooming bride, but now a companion for creeping things!

“Scarce was I returned to Weston, but another awful Providence fetched me from home. My very worthy physician, Dr. Stonehouse, who lives and practises in Northampton, had the misfortune to lose an amiable and excellent wife. She also was snatched away in the morning of life (aged twenty-five), and dead before I so much as heard of her being disordered. At this valuable friend’s house, I was desired to abide some time, in order to assist in writing letters for him, and dispatching his necessary affairs; in comforting him concerning the deceased, and in endeavouring to improve the awakening visitation to our mutual good.[183]

“You will surely say, when you read this account, that, I have been in deaths oft: once upon the borders of it myself, and more than once a spectator of its victory over others.

“The ‘Contemplations,’ you are pleased to inquire after, are, after long delays, or a very slow procedure of the press, launched into the world. What may be their fate, I dare not conjecture.

“J. HERVEY.”

Two more letters, belonging to the year 1747, must be added.

The venerable Dr. Watts, in 1746, had published his speculative and dangerous book, entitled, “The Glory of Christ as God-Man Displayed,” and had presented Hervey with a copy. He was now in the last year of his life, and died November 25, 1748. Hervey wrote to him as follows:—

“WESTON-FAVEL, _December 10, 1747_.

“REV. AND DEAR SIR,—Pardon me if I take leave to interrupt your important studies for the good of mankind, or suspend for one moment your delightful communion with the blessed God. I cannot excuse myself without expressing my gratitude for the present, by your order, lately transmitted from your bookseller, which I shall always value, not only for its instructive contents, but, in a very peculiar manner, for the sake of the author and giver.

“To tell you, worthy doctor, that your works have long been my delight and study, the favourite pattern by which I would form my conduct and model my style, would be only to echo back, in the faintest accents, what sounds in the general voice of the nation. Among other of your edifying compositions, I have reason to thank you for your ‘Sacred Songs,’ which I have introduced into the service of my church; so that, in the solemnities of the Sabbath and in a lecture on the week-day, your muse lights up the incense of our praise, and furnishes our devotions with harmony.

“Our excellent friend, Dr. Doddridge, informs me of the infirm condition of your health; for which reason, I humbly beseech the Father of spirits, and the God of our life, to renew your strength as the eagle’s, and to recruit a lamp that has shone with distinguished lustre in His sanctuary: or, if this may not consist with the counsels of unerring wisdom, to make all your bed in your languishing, softly to untie the cords of animal existence, and enable your dislodging soul to pass triumphantly through the valley of death, leaning on your beloved Jesus, and rejoicing in the greatness of His salvation.

“You have a multitude of names to bear on your breast, and mention with your lips, when you approach the throne of grace in the beneficent exercise of intercession; but none, I am sure, has more need of such an interest in your supplications, none can more highly esteem it, or more earnestly desire it, than, dear sir, your obliged and affectionate humble servant,

“JAMES HERVEY.”[184]

It is a curious fact, that, Hervey possessed and cherished the friendship of the two greatest Dissenters of the age, Doctor Doddridge and Dr. Watts; and, that, the hymns of the latter, even in his lifetime, were sung in the service of an established church.

For eight years, Wesley had been an itinerant preacher, and had encountered an unparalleled amount of violent opposition. There had been a temporary estrangement between him and Whitefield, on Calvinistic doctrines; but the two were now as warmly attached to each other as ever. Methodism, meanwhile, had been established in all directions; and, in this very year, 1747, had been introduced into Ireland. Brutal were the persecutions from which the poor Methodists still had to suffer; but their truth was mighty and triumphant. Hervey had taken no part in the great movement of the Wesleys and Whitefield; but he had not opposed it. Indeed, it had his sympathy and prayers. His old friends occupied one sphere of Christian usefulness; he, according to his ability, occupied another. Hence the following, addressed to Wesley:—

“WESTON, NEAR NORTHAMPTON, _December 30, 1747_.

“DEAR SIR,—With pleasure I received, and with gratitude acknowledge, the favour of your two letters. That which bears the date of November 21, I should have answered long ago, had I not been retarded by the following reason:

“I was desirous to give a proof of my love for your person and of my reverence for your conduct, somewhat more substantial than the bare profession of my pen. My bookseller is, this week, to pay a sum of money for a second impression of my two little pieces of devotional meditation, which I lately ventured to publish, and which God has vouchsafed to honour with acceptance. This is to be received by my brother, in Miles’s Lane, at whose house, if you please to call, he will, in my name, present you with five guineas, which I beg of you to accept, as a token of that affectionate and grateful esteem which I bear to my ever-valued friend; and distribute among the indigent or distressed members of that Divine Benefactor, who died for us both.[185]

“Assure yourself, dear sir, that I can never forget that tender-hearted and generous Fellow of Lincoln, who condescended to take such compassionate notice of a poor undergraduate, whom almost everybody condemned, and for whose soul no man cared.

“If you ask, Why I have withdrawn into a corner, and lain hid in obscurity, while God seems to be shaking the heavens and the earth, and to be doing His work, His great and glorious work, of bringing sinners to Christ, as the doves to their windows? I will tell you freely. It is because of an infirm constitution, a languid flow of spirits, and an enervated state of body, which render even that small share of business, which lies within my narrow sphere, too often burdensome to me, and but very poorly performed by me.

“As for points of doubtful disputation,—those especially which relate to _particular_ or _universal_ redemption,—I profess myself attached neither to the one nor the other. I neither think of them myself, nor preach of them to others. If they happen to be started in conversation, I always endeavour to divert the discourse to some more edifying topic. I have often observed them to breed animosity and division, but never knew them to be productive of love and unanimity. I have further remarked, that, in forming their sentiments on these doctrines, persons may be diametrically opposite, and yet be high in the favour of God, and eminently owned by Him in their ministry. Therefore, I rest satisfied in this general and indisputable truth, that, the Judge of all the earth will assuredly do right; and whosoever cometh to Him, under the gracious character of a Saviour, will in no wise be cast out.

“I embrace—readily embrace—your offer. Let me ever be reckoned in the number of your friends, and often remembered in the earnestness of your prayers. Though it is your distinguished province, to lift your voice on high, and make the world resound with the Redeemer’s name; though my employ is to catch the pleasing accents, and echo, or rather whisper, them among a little circle of acquaintance, yet, I hope, we may be united in the same cordial affection here, and united in the same kingdom of our common Master hereafter.

“Your correspondence will be greatly esteemed, and, I hope, will prove a blessing to, dear sir, your very unworthy, but truly affectionate brother and servant,

“J. HERVEY.”[186]

Affliction was still the heritage of Hervey; but, in the midst of all, his full heart overflowed with pure benevolence, and his pen was not unemployed. Having completed his “Contemplations,” he now devoted what health he had to the revision and enlargement of his “Descant on Creation.” The following are extracts from letters written in the months of March and April, 1748.

“If you have not so much as you wish to relieve the necessities of the poor, distribute from my stock. I am cloistered up in my chamber, and unacquainted with the distresses of my brethren. Lend me, therefore, your eyes to discover proper objects, and your hand to deal about my little fund for charity. Do not forbid me to send a guinea in my next for this purpose. Do not deny me the pleasure of becoming, through your means, an instrument of some little comfort to my afflicted fellow-creatures.

“Herewith comes the ‘Descant’ enlarged. I hope you will be able to read it, and not a little to improve it. Can you engage Dr. ⸺ to run it over? I must write it over again, so fear not to erase and blot.

“A letter from my father is enough to cast contempt on created things. It informs me, that, my poor sister is reduced very low, so low that my father cannot hear her speak. He seems to look upon her life to be in very great danger. May the Father of compassion restore her health, that she may live to the honour of her dying Master, and be a comfort to her afflicted parents!”

For months after this, Hervey’s health was very feeble, but his soul as large as ever; hence the following:—

WESTON-FAVEL, _Aug. 18, 1748_.

“MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,—I received your letter, full of tenderness, and full of piety, last night. The very first thing I apply myself to this morning, is to acknowledge your favour, and confess my own negligence. But your affectionate heart will pity rather than blame me, when I inform you, that, a relapse into the disorder, of which I was never thoroughly cured, has brought me very low, insomuch that I am unable either to discharge the duties of life, or to answer the demands of friendship. I have not been capable of preaching for several Sundays. Pyrmont water, ass’s milk, and such kind of restoratives I try, but try in vain.

“You are not ignorant of my sentiment with regard to our Dissenting brethren. Are we not all devoted to the same supreme Lord? Do we not all rely on the merits of the same glorious Redeemer? By professing the same faith, the same doctrine which is according to godliness, we are incorporated into the same mystical body. And how strange, how unnatural it would be, if the head should be averse to the breast, or the hands inveterately prejudiced against the feet, only because the one is habited somewhat differently from the other? Though I am steady in my attachment to the Established Church, I would have a right hand of fellowship, and a heart of love, ever ready, ever open for all the upright, evangelical Dissenters.”

To a great extent, Hervey was now an invalid. Sometimes he catechised the children on the Apostles’ Creed, the Lord’s Prayer, and the Ten Commandments; but confesses his want of aptitude for this, and that he rarely did it so as to satisfy himself. His public work, however, was extremely limited. By preaching, he could do but little; but, by his treatises, he was reaching the hearts and consciences of thousands who never heard his voice. In 1749, a sixth edition of his “Meditations and Contemplations,” in two volumes,[187] was published; and Whitefield wrote as follows:—[188]

“July 10, 1749. Your sentiments concerning Mr. Hervey’s book are very just. It has gone through six editions. The author of it is my old friend, a most heavenly-minded creature, one of the first of the Methodists, who is contented with a small cure, and gives all that he has to the poor. He is very weak, and daily waits for his dissolution. We correspond with, though we cannot see, one another. We shall, ere long, meet in heaven.”

In another letter, to Hervey himself, Whitefield says:—

“Blessed be God, for causing you to write so as to suit the taste of the polite world! O that they may be won over to admire Him, who is indeed altogether lovely! O when shall we get within the veil! Thanks be to God, it cannot be long. We are both sickly. Lord, give us patience to wait till our blessed change come!”

On November 8, 1749, Whitefield wrote:—

“Your present circumstances almost distress me. I think it requires more grace heartily to say, ‘Father, Thy will be done,’ in such a situation, than to die a martyr forty times. But, my dear friend, though your body is weak and confined at home, your pen hath been active, and your works walk abroad. I hear of them from all quarters. God hath blessed, and will bless them. Let that comfort you, and, if health any way permits, pray write again. Fear not, my dear, dear man; let faith and patience hold out a little longer, and then the struggle shall be over. Yet a little while, and you shall join with that sweet singer, Dr. Watts, who, whilst on earth, dragged a crazy load along, as well as you, for many years. I am now at Ashby, with good Lady Huntingdon. Her ladyship has a great regard for you, and begs you would come and stay a week at her house. She will take great care of you.”

Hervey was ill, and the warm-hearted Whitefield never loved him so much as now. Hitherto, Lady Huntingdon had not corresponded with Hervey, though she had long entertained a great regard for him. One or two letters had passed between them, but no regular correspondence took place till the beginning of the year 1750. Again and again, had Whitefield conveyed her ladyship’s request that he would write to her; and, at length, on February 2, 1750, Hervey yielded, and commenced a correspondence, which was continued, without interruption, until his death. Whitefield was delighted, and wrote:—“I am glad you have opened a correspondence with our elect lady. Keep it open, I entreat you, my dear friend.”

An extract from another letter, by Whitefield, will be welcome:—

“PLYMOUTH, _Feb. 25, 1750_.

“REVEREND AND DEAR SIR,—Your letters always fill me with sympathy. Your last I have just been reading, and in reading breathed out the ejaculation, ‘Lord, when will the days of his mourning be ended?’ Surely, you are not always thus to stick fast in the mire and clay. Look up then, my dear Mr. Hervey; you shall find grace to help in time of need.

“‘Leave to His sovereign sway, To choose and to command; So shalt thou, wondering, own His way, How wise, how strong His hand. Far, far above thy thought His counsel shall appear, When fully He the work hath wrought, That caused Thy needless fear.’

“This is the advice I give you, I sent your hymn to good Lady Huntingdon, who has been ill, but is now, I hope, recovered. Pray write to me often. Sorrows grow less, joys grow greater, by being communicated. Load me as much as you will with all your grievances, and I will lay them before Him, who came to bear our sicknesses and heal our infirmities.”

Two months later Whitefield wrote again:—

“PORTSMOUTH, _April 28, 1750_.

“MY VERY DEAR FRIEND AND BROTHER,—Your letter should have had an immediate answer, if the least leisure had offered when in town. But there I am continually hurried, and had scarce time to eat bread. However, our Lord gave me meat which the world knows not of, and enabled me to preach three or four times a day to great multitudes, and, I trust, with great blessings.

“Fear not your weak body. We are immortal till our work is done. Christ’s labourers must live by miracle; if not, I must not live at all; for God only knows what I daily endure. My continual vomitings almost kill me, and yet the pulpit is my cure. I speak this to encourage you. Persons whose writings are to be blessings must have some thorns in the flesh. Your disorders, like mine, I believe, are, as yet, only to humble, not to kill us. Though I long to go to heaven, yet I am apt to think we are not to die presently, but live and declare the works of the Lord—you by your pen; I by my tongue. Courage, my dear, very dear Mr. Hervey; courage! When we are weak, then are we strong.

“But to your letter. How shall we contrive to meet? I purpose being at Olney next Sunday seven-night, and in a day or two after at Northampton. I wish I could have a line from you. Your (Meditations) are now printing at Philadelphia. Why do you not sit for your picture? The Lord be with you. I love you most tenderly. I thank you ten thousand times for all favours, and am, very dear friend, yours most affectionately, and eternally, in our Lord Jesus,

“G. WHITEFIELD.”

The programme was carried out; and the old friends met. Whitefield writes:—

“ASHLEY, _May 11, 1750_.

“I preached last Lord’s-day at Olney.[189] We had two sweet seasons. A great multitude attended. On the Monday, about six miles from Northampton, I had a private interview with Dr. Stonehouse, Dr. Doddridge, Messrs. Hervey and Hartley. On the Tuesday, I preached, in the morning, to Dr. Doddridge’s family, and, in the afternoon, to about two thousand in the field. Dr. Stonehouse, Mr. Hervey, etc., attended me, and walked with me along the street; so that, I hope, the physician will now turn his back upon the world. I expounded at his house in the evening, and am, hereafter, to come to it as my own. On Tuesday, I preached twice at Kettering to several thousands. On Wednesday, I came hither, and found good Lady Huntingdon, though very weak, yet, better than I expected.”

Concerning this visit by the great evangelist, Hervey wrote:—

“WESTON, _May 12, 1750_.

“This week, we had another visit by that indefatigable preacher of the everlasting gospel, Mr. Whitefield. He delivered his message under the canopy of the skies, and in the midst of a numerous and attentive audience. Dr. Doddridge, Dr. Stonehouse, another doctor of physic, Mr. Hartley, a worthy clergyman, and myself, were on his right hand, and on his left. His text was, ‘Ye are the temples of the living God.’ He showed himself a workman that need not be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth. He dealt out to saints and sinners their portion in due season. All the hearers hung on his lips, and many were visibly impressed by the power of his doctrine. I hope, I am the only one who suffered by attending. I was obliged, as soon as the sacred service was over, to lie upon the bed for a little refreshment, and took such a cold as I have not yet got rid of.

“I dined, supped, and spent the evening with Mr. Whitefield, at Northampton, in company with Dr. Doddridge, and two pious, ingenious clergymen of the Church of England. And, surely, I never spent a more delightful evening, or saw one who seemed to make nearer approaches to the felicity of heaven. A gentleman of great worth and rank in the town invited us to his house, and gave us an elegant treat; but how mean was his provision, how coarse his delicacies, compared with the fruit of my friend’s lips! They dropped as the honey-comb, and were a well of life. Surely, people do not know that amiable and exemplary man; or else, I cannot but think, instead of depreciating, they would applaud and love him. For my part, I never beheld so fair a copy of our Lord,—such a living image of the Saviour,—such exalted delight in God,—such enlarged benevolence to man,—such a steady faith in the Divine promises,—and such a fervent zeal for the Divine glory; and all this without the least moroseness of humour, or extravagances of behaviour; sweetened with the most engaging cheerfulness of temper, and regulated by all the sobriety of reason, and wisdom of Scripture; insomuch, that I cannot forbear applying the wise man’s encomium of an illustrious woman to this eminent minister of Christ, ‘Many sons have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all.’”

A few weeks after this, Hervey was prevailed on, by the repeated importunity of Whitefield and Lady Huntingdon, to visit London, for the benefit of his enfeebled health.[190] He arrived in June, 1750, and remained until the death of his father, in May, 1752. One of the winters was spent in the house of Whitefield; and, for some time, he lodged with his brother William, in Miles Lane. By means of Lady Huntingdon, he became acquainted with Lady Gertrude Hotham, Lady Chesterfield, the Countess Delitz, Lady Fanny Shirley, and many other distinguished and pious persons. Here he met with Charles Wesley; was visited by Dr. Gill, Mr. Cudworth, and John Cennick; and, for the first time, heard Romaine. Here, also, he enlarged and corrected his ‘Meditations,’ composed his ‘Remarks on Bolingbroke’s Letters,’ and wrote part of his ‘Theron and Aspasio.’ He could rarely attempt to preach; but his time was fully occupied. How his two years in London were employed will be best exhibited by extracts from his voluminous correspondence.

At the time of Hervey’s arrival in the metropolis, Whitefield was in the north of England, and the two friends did not again see each other till about the beginning of September.

“_September 11, 1750._

“MY DEAR FRIEND,—Thanks for your subscription; I have procured more of another friend. I shall soon be a poor man, here are so many necessitous objects. And who can bear to be in affluence, while so many fellow-creatures are in deplorable want?

“This night, dear Mr. Whitefield is with us, returned from his expedition, full of life, and rich with spoils,—spoils won from the kingdom of darkness, and consecrated to the Captain of our salvation.

“I have been prevailed upon to sit for my picture. If ever portrait was the shadow of a shadow, mine is such. Oh, that I may be renewed after the image of the blessed Jesus! When I awake up after His likeness, I shall be satisfied with it.”

Three days after this, Hervey, Whitefield, and Charles Wesley,—a happy trio,—met at Whitefield’s house. C. Wesley writes:—“1750. September 14. I met James Hervey at the Tabernacle, and in the fellowship of the spirit of love;”[191] and, on the same day, Whitefield, as follows:—

“At my return to town, I was received, though utterly unworthy, with great joy; and our Lord has manifested forth His glory in the great congregation. I have preached in Mr. Wesley’s chapel several times; and I trust, a young lady of high rank was truly awakened about a fortnight ago, and is since gone triumphantly to heaven. Mr. Charles Wesley breakfasted and prayed with me this morning, and Mr. Hervey was so kind as to come up to be with me in my house. He is a dear man, and, I trust, will yet be spared to write much for the Redeemer’s glory. I have prevailed on him to sit for his picture, and it will be published in a short time.”[192]

The young lady referred to in this extract, was the daughter of Lady Gertrude Hotham. Hervey had frequently visited her in her last sickness, and, on one occasion, had administered to her the Lord’s supper. Hence the following to the Countess of Huntingdon:—

“I had the pleasure of perusing your ladyship’s letter to Mr. Whitefield, and return my grateful acknowledgments for your condescension in inquiring after me. My kind patroness, Lady Chesterfield, and many honourable persons, whose names, I trust, are written in the book of life, are very desirous for your ladyship’s return to the great city. I have lately expounded, and administered the ordinance, at good Lady Gertrude Hotham’s. Her daughter is ripening fast for glory. I had but little conversation with her, for she is too weak to endure much fatigue. When speaking of God’s stupendous love, in giving His only Son for our salvation, and of our interest in the all-sufficient propitiation of His death, I quoted these portions of Scripture.—‘He came into the world to save sinners;’ ‘He poured out His soul for transgressors.’ ‘Yes,’ said Miss Hotham, who had been listening with singular attention; ‘He died, the just for the unjust; He suffered death upon the cross, that we might reign with Him in glory.’ On a subsequent visit, I found her much altered for the worse, as respected her bodily health. Mr. Whitefield had been to see her the preceding day, and has since gone to erect the joyful standard at Portsmouth. Blessed be God, she enjoyed much peace and tranquillity of mind, and a firm persuasion, that God was her reconciled Father, and the blessed Redeemer her all-sufficient portion. I expect to hear every day of her abundant entrance into the joy of her Lord. Good Lady Gertrude, and all her noble relatives and friends, are wonderfully supported in this trying affair.”

Hervey was already employed in writing another book. He was slowly dying, but to be idle was impossible. Hence, the following:—

“_December 20, 1750._

“MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,—Your letter found me, after a considerable delay in its passage, where do you think? Where I never expected to go any more,—found me at London! Prevailed on by the repeated importunity of my friends, I came by easy stages to town, in order to try whether change of air may be of any service to my decayed constitution: for my worthy physician, Dr. Stonehouse, has declared that nothing which he can prescribe, is likely to administer any relief.

“You inquire about my new work, intended for the press. It is a great uncertainty whether my languid spirits and enfeebled constitution will permit me to execute my design. It is a pleasure, however, to hear that I am sometimes admitted to converse with you by my book.”

The sale of the works which Hervey had already published was extraordinary. The ensuing letter to his father is evidence of this, and also unfolds a feature of Hervey’s domestic character not heretofore noticed.

“LONDON, _January 23, 1751_.

“HONOURED SIR—Mr. Rivington has advertised the next edition of my books, and has fixed upon the 31st for publication. Then there will be five thousand volumes ready for sale. Oh may they be five thousand trumpets to proclaim far and near the glories of Him, who died for our sins, and rose again for our justification!

“If you inquire about my picture, Mr. Willis will be so kind as to inform you. I am quite tired of sitting to the painters.

“If mother and you think Mr. Thayer would accept a couple of gallons of rum, brandy, or shrub, I would very gladly make him a present; and, when my mother’s stock of shrub is out, she may command a fresh supply from your and her dutiful son,

“JAMES HERVEY.”

When Hervey first came to London, he had no intention of staying the length of time he did. On September 11, 1750, in a letter to his father, he wrote:—

“I have entertained thoughts of returning home very soon; but, if you choose that I should stay and make trial a little longer, I should be glad to have my MSS. here. Some of them, I think, lie on the chair at the right hand of my desk. There are others, but I forget where they are laid. If my sister can find any, containing dialogues or letters between Theron, and Aspasio, I desire she will pack them up, and send them carefully by coach.”

During the whole of the year 1751, Hervey continued in the same debilitated state. It was now, that, he began his long series of letters to Lady Frances Shirley, one hundred and eighteen of which were subsequently published by her ladyship’s executors. Early in the year, he tells his noble correspondent, that, he had put on his “coat but once during all the winter,” and, even then, he “returned home with a cold, and was obliged to take to his bed.” There is something painfully affecting in extracts like the following:—

“Should I attempt to speak roundly to Mr. ⸺, my cheeks, pale as they are, would be encrimsoned. Instead of working conviction in a brother, I should suffer disorder in myself. So tender are my spirits! As, I am sure, your ladyship must perceive, by a certain confusedness and precipitancy in my behaviour; quite contrary to that ease and serenity which every one must observe in your ladyship. I know not how it is, but I cannot, either by the exercise of my reason, or even by an advertence to God, rectify this weakness. I trouble you with this complaint, only with a view of demonstrating that nothing considerable can be expected from a person, to whom ‘the grasshopper is a burden.’”

Again,—“_April 14, 1751_. My health is so very precarious, and my constitution so enervated, that, I scarce ever am able, and am always unfit, to wait upon your ladyship. I have often found pleasure in visiting the poor tenants of the meanest hut, where I had an opportunity of talking on heavenly things. How much more should I be delighted, in an admission to your ladyship’s company, where I should hear the same favourite topics discoursed on, with all the refinements of politeness and superior sense! But extreme weakness, and great languor, disqualify me for the enjoyment of this satisfaction.”

Again,—“My poor heart, that is naturally fond of activity, and would fain exert itself for the blessed Redeemer’s glory,—that is peculiarly charmed with the works of creation, and knows no higher entertainment than a contemplative rural excursion,—is sometimes apt to repine at being cut off from its favourite gratifications. But I desire to check such unsubmissive emotions; and rest satisfied, that, whatever the all-gracious God ordains, is incomparably better than I could choose for myself. Let the voice of murmuring, therefore, be entirely suppressed. Let the praises of God be upon my tongue, and let all that is within me bless His holy name.”

Again,—“_September 23, 1751_. Though my hand is able to hold a pen, my feet are not able to carry me across the room, without some borrowed support. I have been extremely ill: hovering upon the very brink of eternity. The doctor was twice sent for, by a special messenger, from an apprehension, that, my dissolution was approaching. You will probably be desirous to know how my mind was affected, amidst such circumstances of peril and pain. I humbly bless the Divine goodness, I was under no terrifying fears with regard to death. It was desirable, rather than dreadful; the thing I longed for, rather than deprecated. You are pleased to ask, What I am going to publish? I was writing a little Treatise[193] upon some of the most important doctrines of Christianity: to be disposed partly into dialogues, partly into letters; and rendered entertaining by several descriptive pictures in nature and its ever-pleasing scenes. I have sketched out the greatest part, in a rough un-connected manner; but a considerable time will be requisite, to dispose it properly, and polish it for the nice taste of the present age. This time, whether it will please the Sovereign Disposer of all things to allow; or whether my constitution, always very inferior, but now more exceedingly enervated, will yield a sufficient supply of animal strength,—is a great uncertainty. But of this, my lady, we are absolutely certain, that, whatever is ordered, by unerring wisdom and infinite mercy, must be good,—must be best.”

One cannot but experience a feeling of surprise, that, a man in such physical debility was able to evince such activity of mind. Hervey could not be idle. To have been totally unemployed would not have retarded, but probably have hastened his decease. To some men, at least, a certain amount of work is a solace. It braces the mind; and enables the sufferer to better bear the afflictions of the body. So it was with Hervey. In the house of his brother, he had a comfortable home; and his father and friends were able and willing to afford him all the help he needed. No man was more free from the love of money. His wants were few, and his earthly longings were quite as limited. He had no need to work; but work was what he liked. His brain teemed with thought; and it was no inconsiderable relief to put some of his conceptions and conceits on paper. Besides, as he himself was wont to solicit the critical kindness of his friends, in the revision of his writings; so he sometimes rendered the same assistance to others. The following was written to the Rev. Mr. Pearsall, of Taunton, and is somewhat amusing as coming from one of the most florid writers of the period,—

“_May 29, 1751._

“REV. AND DEAR SIR,—Give me leave to return my best thanks for your obliging letters and very valuable manuscripts: those, I mean, which you were so kind as to transmit for my use. I look upon them as a detachment of auxiliary forces, seconding and supporting a feeble attempt to oppose the enemies, and to spread the conquests, of _Free Grace_. I wish they had fallen into abler hands: for mine, weak, always weak by nature, are now enervated to the last degree by sickness. For several hours, I have been unable to take up my pen; and could only endeavour, by resting myself in some easy posture, to sustain a being, whose _strength is become labour and sorrow_.

“I now return, after a long delay, your truly pleasing and profitable letters. I have read them with singular pleasure; and, I hope, with some improvement. Many parts I perused several times; and the warm piety, garnished by an elegant fancy, made them as delightful as if they were new. I cannot pretend to the merit of doing your compositions any service; unless it be in this one circumstance, that, I have detained them from you for a considerable time; by which means, they will be, in a manner, new to your own eye: and you will be much more capable of judging maturely, concerning each sentiment, and every expression.

“One thing, in general, let me remark: That, my worthy friend’s genius is too rich; his invention quite luxuriant. He must use the pruning knife, and cut off several of the shoots. Yes, though they are perfectly beautiful, they must be sacrificed; that, the fruit may acquire the finer flavour. There is a certain prettiness in some periods, that betrays us all into an ill-judged redundancy; which, though its neatness should secure it from being tiresome, yet, weakens the force of the principal thought.

“I wish you would introduce some suitable _descriptions_ to beautify the last letters. As they all turn upon the same subject, and have no pieces of entertaining _scenery_ to enliven them, I fear, they will read a little flat and heavy; especially when compared with the preceding ornamented pages.

“A few alterations I have proposed, and only proposed. Admit, or reject them, as shall appear, on your own examination, most expedient. Don’t, dear sir, be _hasty_ in publication. Compositions, that would spread far and continue long, in an age of so much refinement, should be touched and re-touched.

“I remain, dear sir, your obliged friend, and affectionate brother,

“JAMES HERVEY.”[194]

The sick man used his utmost endeavours to be useful. Writing to another friend, towards the close of the year 1751, he says,—

“If I mistake not, you are a subscribing member of the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge. Will you be so kind as to procure for me a dozen Bibles, and a dozen of the Bishop of Man on the Lord’s Supper. I give away this to communicants, because it has the Communion Service in it; and because it is more evangelical, and less exceptionable than the generality of what are called preparations for, or companions at, the Sacrament. Too many of these books, by long prayers for each day of the week, and by injudicious representations, have sometimes, I fear, the contrary effect to what is intended. I had once a design, nor have I wholly laid it aside, of extracting from “Jenks’ Office of Devotion,” the few leaves, he has there wrote so pathetically on the Sacrament, and of printing them with the Communion Service; adding suitable observations of my own, to supply Jenks’ deficiencies. I propose likewise to add what Marshall says on the subject; and insert, from the Bishop of Man, his short, yet striking meditations on some well-chosen texts of Scripture? What says my _fidus Achates_ to this? Give it a place in your thoughts; and, however we may determine on this, let us determine to cleave more closely to the Lord, and wait upon our God continually.”

It is a curious fact, that, there is no evidence of any interview between Hervey and the Wesleys, during 1751. At the beginning of the year, John Wesley was married, in London, to Mrs. Vazeille; and his brother Charles also spent several months in the metropolis; but neither their Journals nor their Letters contain the least allusion to their valetudinarian friend Hervey. With the exception of the month of January, Whitefield was scarcely at all in London; but he wrote to Hervey, from Bristol, as follows:—

“BRISTOL, _March 17, 1751_.

“MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,—This comes with a summons from good Lady Huntingdon, for you to appear in Bristol, and abide for a month or two at my brother’s house. You must not refuse. The God, who has carried that elect Lady through such bad roads from Ashby hither, will take care of you, and, I am persuaded, you will not repent your journey. Her Ladyship made the motion to me, and intends writing herself. Blessed be God! she is much better, and I trust will do well. She will have nobody to give her the Sacrament unless you come. I hope this will find you at the Tabernacle House. I ventured, the other day, to put out a guinea to interest for you. It was to release an excellent Christian, who, by living very hard, and working near twenty hours out of four-and-twenty, had brought himself very low. He has a wife and four children, and was above two guineas in debt. I gave one for myself and one for you. We shall have good interest for our money in another world.”

Hervey’s health was such that he declined yielding to this request;[195] and Whitefield wrote him another of his great-hearted letters:—

“EXETER, _April 11, 1751_.

“MY VERY DEAR MR. HERVEY,—I was pleased last night to find, by my wife’s letters, that, your sister was delivered, and, more so, because my wife wrote as though you were again under my roof. This I count a great honour, and such a privilege, that, I wish to have the favour conferred upon me as long as I live. These my hands (could they work, and was there occasion for it) should readily minister to your necessities. If my wife should come down to Bristol, pray let not my dear Mr. Hervey move. If Molly stays in London, she will take care of you; if not, Polly and Mr. D⸺ will gladly wait upon you. I have preached about forty times since I left London, and have been enabled several times to ride forty miles in a day. I find, that, this sensibly refreshes me. I wish you could say so too: your Bideford friends would then see you. They hold on their way, and long to have a line from you. I hope Jesus gives you strength to proceed in your book. It is inquired much after. The Lord be with you, and bless your pen, and your heart!”

Hervey was very happy in the house of his friend, and wrote to Mrs. Whitefield, at Bristol, with a playfulness which was unusual in him:—

“This leaves your family in good health, and me, whom you appoint steward, like Gideon’s soldiers,—_faint, but pursuing_; faint with bodily languors, but following after that amiable, adorable God, whose loving-kindness is better than life. We go on comfortably, and want for nothing, but your company. Mr. Cruttenden says, I live like a king, and dine every day in state. I tell him, No, I am nothing more than lord high-steward of your majesty’s household; but, since he will have it that I am a monarch, I this day began to act in character, and commanded and charged our trusty and well-beloved Robert Cruttenden, Esq., not to be awanting in his attendance on our royal person. I hope my friend’s jest is a good omen. I hope we shall be kings to our God, and reign over the rebels within, and tread the world under our feet, and sit in heavenly places with our exalted and royal Head, Christ Jesus.”

In the month of September, Whitefield embarked for Georgia; and, on his arrival there, wrote to Hervey as follows:—

“_February 1, 1752._

“MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,—I long to write to you, and inform you, that, I love you in the bowels of Jesus Christ. This leaves unworthy me, endeavouring to do something for Him on this side the water. Glory be to His great name! He causes His work to prosper in my worthless hands. Follow me with your prayers; and who knows but we may meet once more on this side heaven. I find our dear Mr. Hervey is to be detained longer from thence. I think he will have to bury many stronger men. I wish Lisbon may be blessed to Dr. Doddridge. I hope you write to Lady Huntingdon, and see her frequently. I was rejoiced to hear, from my dear yoke-fellow, that, her Ladyship was bravely: this was joy indeed. It is a new year. God quicken my tardy pace, and help me to do much work in a little time! This is my highest ambition.”

Dr. Doddridge, the beloved and honoured friend of Hervey, was already dead. The great Dissenter, in feeble health, had embarked for Portugal, in the same month as Whitefield started for America. He landed at Lisbon on October 13th, 1751; and, thirteen days afterwards, peacefully expired. In writing to Lady Frances Shirley, in reference to this event, Hervey intimates, that, heaven to him was now more attractive than ever. The removal of his friends made it easier for himself to die. Like Whitefield, he entered upon the year 1752, in the spirit of ardent gratitude, and entire devotedness to the service of his Saviour.

“I bless God,” said he, “I want for nothing;—nothing, unless it be a heart more deeply and devoutly affected with His most undeserved goodness. My brother, also, at whose house I live, is in a course of business, flourishing and prosperous, as can be wished. I am one with the Methodists in my heart; though hampered and withheld from acting, by a languishing constitution.”

This was written January 18, 1752. A month afterwards, he wrote as follows:—

“MILES’S LANE, _February 19, 1752_.

“On Sunday last, in the afternoon, we were greatly alarmed. A fire broke out in a Sugar-baker’s work-house, to which a part of my brother’s dwelling-house joins. We were all confusion and consternation; almost smothered with smoke; and crowded by the mob. Three engines, playing from various parts of our house, and several others, pouring in water from other quarters, by the blessing of God, kept under the raging element; and, in a few hours, extinguished it. It put me in mind of that tremendous day, when ‘the heavens shall pass away with a great noise, and the elements melt with fervent heat, and the earth with all the works therein be burnt up.’”[196]

The accident was alarming; and, to use the words of Hervey himself, “in order to avoid the fire, he had to wade through water,” and caught a cold and fever, which seriously shook his enfeebled health, and confined him to his chamber several weeks.

It has been already mentioned, that, Whitefield prevailed on Hervey to have his portrait taken. Early in the year 1752, a mezzotinto engraving was published;[197] and the following was addressed to the Rev. Mr. Nixon,[198] Rector of Cold-Higham, in Northamptonshire, who had put together eight lines, which he wished to be printed beneath the likeness:—

“I am obliged to you for the favour done me by your letter, and for the honour done me by your verses, to be engraved under my mezzotinto picture. I should have acknowledged both these obligations sooner, if my print-seller had not been dilatory in publishing the picture, which is now transmitted to Dr. Stonehouse, and desires your acceptance. I cannot forbear thinking, that, what is called honour, is a little capricious and whimsical. I, for my part, had taken my final leave of her; expected none of her favours; and was become familiarly acquainted with contempt. How is it then, that, she singles out a person, whose name has long been struck out of her list; and bestows her caresses upon a mean creature, who has been used to sit on the dung-hill? O! that it may be for the glory of Christ’s grace, Christ’s wisdom, Christ’s power! May I serve to the Sun of Righteousness, as a cloud is subservient in the firmament; which, though all-gloomy in itself, exhibits a rainbow; and, thereby, shows the world what beautiful colours are combined in that magnificent luminary.

“You are pleased to inquire after my little work. Dear Sir, add, to your kind inquiries, a prayer to God, that, it may be executed under the anointings of His Spirit, and appear (if it ever appears) under the influence of His blessing. My late sickness laid an absolute embargo upon it, for a considerable time; and has so shattered my feeble constitution, that, I proceed like a vessel which has lost its rigging, and is full of leaks.”

Hervey was, in part at least, a Calvinist. Wesley, on the other hand, was an Arminian; and, in 1751 and 1752, published two of his most convincing and cogent pamphlets, namely, “Serious Thoughts upon the Perseverance of the Saints,” and “Predestination Calmly Considered.” It would not be rash to say, that, both were unanswerable, though Hervey thought differently. On the first, he was thoroughly opposed to his friend Wesley; on the second he was dubious. Hence the following:—

“MILES’S LANE, _March 24, 1752_.

“Mr. Wesley’s last piece I have not read through. I can’t say, I am fond of that controversy. The doctrine of the perseverance of Christ’s servants, Christ’s children, Christ’s spouse, and Christ’s members, I am thoroughly persuaded of. Predestination and reprobation I think of with fear and trembling. And, if I should attempt to study them, I would study them on my knees.”

Hervey was now employed in writing his able and beautiful controversial pamphlet, entitled, “Remarks on Lord Bolingbroke’s Letters on the Study and Use of History; so far as they relate to the History of the Old Testament, and especially to the case of Noah, denouncing a Curse upon Canaan; in a Letter to a Lady of Quality.” The great infidel had died on November 15th, 1751; and his book, which had been published posthumously, had created a painful sensation. Hervey completed his “Remarks” on April 22, 1752; though they were not published for some time after: indeed, originally, they were not intended for publication at all. Lady Frances Shirley, having read Bolingbroke’s bad book, wrote to Hervey, asking his opinion concerning it; and the “Remarks” were, in the first instance, nothing more than a private letter to the “Lady of Quality” just mentioned.[199] The pamphlet is a successful attempt to refute a few of Bolingbroke’s bold and unauthorized assertions, namely: 1. That, “the Old Testament is no sufficient authority for _chronology_ from the beginning of time.” 2. That, in the Holy Scriptures, instead of history, we have “a heap of fables; which can pretend to nothing but some inscrutable truths, and therefore useless to mankind.” 3. That, the Scriptures are “full of additions, and interpolations, and transpositions.” 4. That, Noah “was still drunk when he denounced a curse upon Canaan; for no man in his senses could hold such language, or pass such a sentence.”

A wiser man than Lord Bolingbroke once wrote:—

“The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be; and that which is done, is that which shall be done; and there is no new thing under the sun.” (Ecclesiastes i. 9.)

In the infidel objections of Bolingbroke, the reader finds the pith of all the infidel objections of the present day; and, in order to refute them, nothing more is needed than to turn to the manly defences of the Holy Bible written more than a hundred years ago. Modern infidelity is the infidelity of Bolingbroke and others, dished up, and served with newly-invented garnishing, and a pretentiously learned flavour. Hervey’s treatise is free from all the ornate faultiness of his “Meditations”; its style is flowing, clear, and forcible; and its arguments fairly put and unanswerable. It would be rendering useful service to republish it in the present alarming prevalency of unbelief.

In the month of May, 1752, the livings of Weston-Favel and Collingtree were rendered vacant by the death of Hervey’s father. The following extracts from letters to Lady Frances Shirley refer to this event, and to other matters.

“_1732, May 19._ I am upon the point to remove into Northamptonshire. It has pleased God to take my honoured father to Himself; so that, I am obliged to depart from my present situation, and to take the living of Weston.[200] O! that I had strength of constitution, to watch over a flock, and feed them with the milk of the word! But the will of the Lord is best. He employs whom He will employ; and whom He will, He lays aside. Wise and righteous are all His ways. ’Tis very probable, I shall never have the pleasure of seeing your ladyship again, on this side the everlasting habitations. My enfeebled state renders me like an aged tree, which must continue where it is fixed: to transplant it, or to remove it, is to kill it.”

“_May 23._ I am just arrived at Weston, after a pleasant journey, in an easy coach, and cool weather. I am much fatigued, though we allowed two days for about seventy miles. Thanks are due to your ladyship for making my Letter[201] acceptable to others, by approving it yourself, and honouring it with your recommendation. I humbly bless God, if He pleases to give it favour in the eyes of others; and should think it the highest privilege, if He would vouchsafe to render it at all serviceable to their best interests; especially to such a distinguished and illustrious personage as the Princess of W⸺. I assure you, my lady, I have not the least aversion to print any production of mine, in case better judges should think it might tend to maintain the honour of the Bible, or endear that inestimable book to mankind. All I fear is, lest acute but irreligious minds should discover some weak sentiment; should find some flaw in the argument; and take occasion to wound the Redeemer, and vilify His truths, through my inadvertence. Be so good, my lady, as to make my very respectful compliments acceptable to Dr. Hales,[202] and inform him of my suspicions. If he would please to revise the little essay, and should think the ‘Remarks’ will stand the test of a rigorous examination, my scruples would be very much abated. I believe, I durst undertake to vindicate all the observations, that are of a critical nature, with regard to the original language, or of an historic nature with regard to fact. Whether I offend against the rules of polite and genteel demeanour, your ladyship is the best judge. If your ladyship, or the Dr., should persist in your opinion, I wish you would be so good as to get the paper transcribed (no matter how close it is written) and transmitted to me in a frank; for I have no copy of it, only in some incoherent minutes in shorthand.

“I know not what the Lord will do with me, or how I shall proceed. My strength is so worn down, and my constitution so irreparably decayed, that it will be absolutely impossible for me to discharge my ministerial duty.”

“_June 13._ Weston is near Northampton; about two miles from the town; pleasantly situated on an agreeable eminence. My house is quite retired; so that we hear none of the tumultuous din of the world, and see nothing but the wonderful and charming works of the Creator. O! that I may be enabled to improve this advantageous solitude! I did, on the day your ladyship mentions, ascend the pulpit; and speak, for the space of half an hour, to my people. But with so much weakness! O! ’tis well that the eternal God does not want strength of lungs, or delicacy of elocution; but can do His great work of converting souls by the weakest, meanest instruments. If it was not so, I must absolutely despair of being successful in my labour, or serviceable in my office. I opened my commission to my new parishioners, from those words: ‘Preach the gospel to every creature’; and gave them to understand, that, the end of my preaching amongst them, the design of my conversation with them, and the principal aim of my whole life would be, to bring them acquainted with the truth, and assist them in attaining the great salvation.”

“_July 3._ Advised by my friends, importuned by my relations, and swayed by a concern for the circumstances of a mother and sister who live with me, I have been prevailed on to take a second benefice.[203] This obliges me to set out for Cambridge without delay, in order to be created Master of Arts. From thence, I proceed to London, to get a dispensation from the Archbishop, and the seals from the Lord Chancellor. On Wednesday night, I hope to be in town; and, if I can get my business despatched by Saturday or Monday at the farthest, I may return soon enough to meet our Diocesan on his visitation at Northampton; receive institution there; and save myself the fatigue and expense of a journey to Peterborough. I was honoured with your ladyship’s letter, just as I returned from visiting my people at Collingtree: the parish which I served, when I lived with my father, and of which I am going to be rector. It would have pleased you to have observed how glad the honest folks were to see their old curate. And why were they glad? For no other reason, that I can conceive, but because I used to converse with them in private, just as I spoke to them from the pulpit; and endeavoured, at every interview, to set forward their eternal salvation. This, I find, is the grand secret, to win the affections of a flock. And in this, as in every other part of true Christianity, our interest and our duty are connected.”

“_July 11._ I think your ladyship’s objection was very just and weighty. I fancy it would be most advisable to send the little piece” (his Remarks on Bolingbroke) “abroad under my own name; as the acceptance, which my other Essays have found from the public, may promote the spread of this. And, I apprehend, my bookseller would give me something for the copy; which, at this juncture, would scarcely be consistent with prudence to neglect. The expense of taking my two livings is very great. It will cost me, I am told, six score pounds; and though, I believe, I have money enough in the bank, produced by my selling the property of my ‘Meditations,’ yet such a succour would be welcome and serviceable. Will your ladyship lend your name, either at full length or in initial letters, to dignify and recommend the performance? I humbly submit this proposal to your ladyship’s determination: and shall be obliged, if you allow it; and shall acquiesce, if you reject it.”

Hervey visited the metropolis, and, on his return to Weston-Favel, had a near escape from an untimely death. He writes:—

“_August 2._ Very early on Wednesday morning, I set out for Northampton, in a new machine, called _The Berlin_; which holds four passengers, is drawn by a pair of horses, and driven in the manner of a post-chaise. On this side Newport, we came up with a stage-coach, and made an attempt to pass it. This the coachman perceiving, mended his pace; which provoked the driver of the _Berlin_ to do the same, till they both lashed their horses into a full career; and were more like running a race, than conveying passengers. We very narrowly escaped falling foul on each other’s wheels. I called out to the fellows; but to no purpose. Within the space of a minute or two, what I apprehended happened. My vehicle was overturned, and thrown with great violence on the ground. The coachman was tossed off his box, and lay bleeding in the road. There was only one person in the coach, and none but myself in the _Berlin_; yet, neither of us (so tender was the care of Divine Providence!) sustained any considerable hurt. I received only a slight bruise, and had the skin razed from my leg, where I might too reasonably have feared the misfortune of broken bones, dislocated limbs, or a fractured skull.”

Hervey was now instituted, by the Bishop of Peterborough, in his second living, and opened his commission, among his new parishioners, by preaching from the text,—“To me, who am less than the least of all saints, is this grace given, that, I should preach among the Gentiles the unsearchable riches of Christ.” He also sent to the press his “Remarks on Lord Bolingbroke’s Letters,” which, in the month of November, were published. He solicited Lady Frances Shirley to favour him with the criticisms of her friends; and, on December 5, 1752, wrote to her as follows:—

“I am much obliged to your Ladyship for taking the trouble of transmitting the sentiments of your critical acquaintance. If I live to write another letter, I will return my opinion with relation to them. This is designedly short; to correspond with my weak state of health. For I am again confined; though, blessed be God! not ‘in durance vile,’ I preached on Sunday; and renewed my cold; so that this morning I have lost my voice. What a dying life is mine! Every blast pierces me, and every cold crushes me. Blessed, for ever blessed be God! for a better life and happier state in the heavens. Where we shall be languid no more; and be ungrateful to Jesus no more; and sin against God no more.”

To another friend, a few days later, he wrote:—

“_December 14, 1752._—Your approbation of anything in my ‘Remarks,’ will give me singular satisfaction; yet, I should be no less obliged for your free thoughts, on what should have been added, expunged, or altered. Point out my blemishes, and supply my defects. Applause may be more soothing to my vanity; but such kind corrections will be more pleasing to my judgment, and more serviceable to our common cause. It is scarce probable, that, a second edition should be published, as the first was numerous; but, if there should be such a demand, I am sure, your animadversions would enrich and ennoble it. As an author, I would aim, singly aim at the glory of my Divine Master, and the furtherance of His everlasting Gospel. Nevertheless, I would, by no means, neglect the recommendations of a graceful composition. I would be glad to have the apples of gold, which are the truths of our holy religion, set in pictures of silver. Generally speaking, human nature must be pleased, in order to be profited. The wisest of men ‘sought and found out acceptable words,’ even when that which was written, was the truth of God.”

In these extracts, the reader may find the reasons why Hervey became a pluralist. The thing cannot be commended; but, perhaps, in his case, it may be pardoned. He himself disliked it; but the circumstances of his widowed mother and fatherless sister, the importunity of his relatives, and the advice of his friends, overcame his righteous repugnance. At one time, he seems to have entertained the idea of giving one of the livings to his friend Dr. Stonehouse;[204] but this was abandoned; and Hervey placed himself in the extremely objectionable position of holding two ecclesiastical benefices instead of only one. It is true, that, the united populations of Weston-Favel and Collingtree were not more than about six hundred souls; and that the income of the two livings was only about £180 a year; but the question is, was it absolutely wrong, in every case, to become a pluralist? If it was not, Hervey was excusable, for, though £180 then was worth more than £600 now, the presentation to the two benefices was his own hereditary property, and, subject to the law of the land, he had a right to do as he liked with it. Still, the being a pluralist was an ugly fact. Churches have always objected to it. Even as early as the thirteenth century, at the Lateran council, holding more than one benefice was expressly forbidden, by a canon, under the penalty of deprivation; the same canon, however, granting the pope a power to dispense with it in favour of persons of distinguished merit. The practical result was, there were so many found with a title to this merit, that the prohibition became useless. In this way, the holding of more benefices than one, became legal; and such was the existing state of things in the time of Hervey. The law of the land created difficulties; but they were far from being insuperable. Two certificates had to be obtained from the bishop of the Diocese, one for the Archbishop, and the other for the Lord Chancellor. Testimonials, also, had to be procured, from the neighbouring clergy, concerning the presentee’s behaviour and conversation. He must also exhibit to the Archbishop, not only his letters of order of deacon and priest, but also a certificate of his having taken the degree of Master of Arts at the least, in one of the Universities of the realm. These and other preliminaries had to be observed; after which, if the Archbishop was satisfied, the dispensation was granted (not by the pope as in former days, but), by the Faculty Office; it was then confirmed under the broad seal of the Lord Chancellor; and, finally, the affair was completed, by an application to the bishop of the diocese where the living was situated, for the presentee’s admission and institution into his second cure of souls. Hervey had to pass through the whole of this worrying process; and, beside other expenses, had to pay a stamp duty of £30 for every skin, or paper, or parchment, on which his dispensation was engrossed. No wonder, that, he speaks of it as having cost him “six score pounds.” For five hundred years, or more, plurality of benefices had been an ecclesiastical disgrace; and, though, perhaps, permissible in a case like Hervey’s, it adds no lustre to his fame, and was not obtainable without handsome fees to the highest authorities of the English Church and State.

There is another fact, belonging to this period of Hervey’s history, too curious to be omitted. Every one knows, that, Whitefield believed, that, the keeping of slaves was sanctioned by the Scriptures; that, hot countries could not be cultivated without negroes; and, that, the lives of numbers of white people had been destroyed in Georgia, and large amounts of money wasted, for want of negro labour. Holding such principles, Whitefield, in 1751, bought a number of slaves, partly to cultivate the land attached to his Orphan House, in Georgia: and partly to instruct them, and to make them Christians.[205] Strange to say, the gentle Hervey approved of this procedure; and having, during his residence in London, largely shared in Whitefield’s hospitality, he gave to him, as a souvenir on leaving,—what? A slave! Hence the following:—

“When you please to demand, my brother will pay you £30, for the purchase of a Negro. And may the Lord Jesus Christ give you, or rather take for Himself, the precious soul of the poor slave!”

Whitefield readily acquiesced. His answer, referring to other matters as well as this, was as follows:—

“LONDON, _June 9, 1752_.

“MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,—I have received and read your manuscripts;[206] but for me to play the critic upon them, would be like holding up a candle to the sun. However, before I leave town, I will just mark a few places as you desire, and then send the manuscripts to your brother. I foretell their fate: nothing but your scenery can screen you. Self will never bear to die, though slain in so genteel a manner, without showing some resentment against its artful murderer.

“You are resolved not to die in my debt. I think to call your intended purchase _Weston_, and shall take care to remind him by whose means he was brought under the everlasting Gospel.

“O that Doctor Stonehouse may be brought out to preach it! If you do not take the other living” (Collingtree) “yourself, I think your giving it to the Doctor is a glorious scheme.

“Your brother has been so kind as to let me have the little mare again. My Master walked,—I ride, to preach the glorious Gospel. Whether riding or walking, Lord Jesus, let my whole heart be taken up with Thee!

“Adieu, my dearest sir, adieu. Cease not to pray for

“Ever yours whilst

“GEORGE WHITEFIELD.”

One other letter from Whitefield may fitly close the year 1752. Whitefield had read Hervey’s “Remarks on Bolingbroke,” and now wished him to publish his “Theron and Aspasio.”

“LONDON, _November 14, 1752_.

“MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,—”God will bless you for vindicating the honour of His sacred volumes in your last pamphlet, for which, as for all other unmerited favours, I most heartily thank you. I have just now read it, and doubt not of its being greatly blessed and owned, and going through many editions. I cannot discern any errata or inaccuracies in the composition. Surely, God hath raised my dear friend up, to let the polite world see how amiable are the doctrines of the Gospel. Why will you weary the world, and your friends, by delaying to publish your other long wished-for performance.[207] I shall be glad to peruse any of the Dialogues. The savour of the last is not of my mind. Pray let them see the light this winter. They will delight and warm many a heart.

“My dear, very dear friend, good-night. My kind respects await your mother and sister. My wife, who is quite an invalid, joins heartily with me, who am, my very dear sir, yours most affectionately in our common Lord,

“GEORGE WHITEFIELD.”

Though so feeble and delicate, Hervey tried to preach twice every Sunday. His ministry also was popular and attractive, his churches being crowded to excess, and the windows sometimes removed, that, the people outside might hear. His style was familiar, and adapted to the congregations to whom he preached; and, of course, his sentiments were Calvinistical. “You have observed,” said he, about this period of his history, “the walls on either side of the path leading to this church. They are covered, as you know, with ivy. Now, you may pluck off the leaves, and break off the branches, so that none of them shall be seen on the outside; but the roots of the plant have so worked themselves into the wall, that, it would be impossible entirely to eradicate them without taking down the wall, and not leaving one stone upon another. And so must this frail body be taken down; and then, and not till then, shall we get rid of the remains of a degenerate nature.”[208]

Hervey’s metaphor was striking; but metaphors are not arguments.

To employ his own expressions, Hervey began the year 1753 in “ill-health and weak spirits, which cramped his mind, and unnerved his hand.” He was “sadly indisposed; languid and dispirited; out of humour with himself, and displeased with his own thoughts.”

His “Theron and Aspasio” was now the chief and almost only occupation of his leisure hours. A part of the work was sent to Whitefield for revisal. Hence the following:—

“LONDON, _January 27, 1753_.

“MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,—I thank you a thousand times for the trouble you have been at, in revising my poor compositions, which, I am afraid, you have not treated with becoming severity.

“How many pardons shall I ask for mangling, and, I fear, murdering your dear ‘Theron and Aspasio?’ You will see by Monday’s coach; which will bring a parcel directed for you. It contains one of your ‘Dialogues,’ and two more of my sermons; which I do not like very well myself, and, therefore, shall not wonder if you dislike them. If you think they will do for the public, pray return them immediately, because the other two go to the press next Monday. I have nothing to comfort me but this, ‘that the Lord chooses the weak things of this world to confound the strong; and things, that are not, to bring to nought things that are. I think to sell all four sermons for sixpence. I write for the poor; you for the polite and noble. God will assuredly own and bless what you write.

“As yet, I have only had time to peruse one of your sweet ‘Dialogues.’ As fast as possible, I shall read the rest. I am more than paid for my trouble by reading them.

“The Lord be with your dear heart! Continue to pray for me. The Lord be with us! Grace! Grace!

“I am, dearest sir, in very great haste, but greater love,

“Yours, etc.,

“GEORGE WHITEFIELD.”

Doddridge was dead, and beyond the reach of consultation; but Hervey now became acquainted with another eminent dissenter,—John Ryland, the well-known Baptist minister,—who became the intimate friend of the Rector of Weston-Favel, and one of his most trusted advisers. In a letter, dated “February 3, 1753,” Hervey sent to Ryland a rough outline of his “Theron and Aspasio,” and said,

“My piece is, as yet, only in embryo. Will you, dear sir, contribute your assistance to ripen the design, and bring it to the birth? With this view, I send you my four first dialogues. They are very incorrect, and shamefully blotted.[209] The first fault your pen will mend; the second your candour will excuse. But, instead of making any more apologies, give me leave to lay before you a plan of the whole scheme,” etc.[210]

Hervey was almost fastidious in his literary tastes; and, hence, his habit of asking his friends to revise his manuscripts previous to their being printed. There can be no question, that, he went further, in this respect, than he need have done. Whitefield was a glorious evangelist; but made no pretensions to being a man of letters. Ryland was a strong-minded man; but not an accomplished scribe. The Countess of Huntingdon, in some respects, was one of the most remarkable women that ever lived; but polite literature was not the orbit in which she shone. And, yet, Hervey sought “friendly corrections” from the coroneted lady as well as from the great itinerant, and the Baptist minister. Hence, the following:—

“Your ladyship is pleased to express a wish, that, I should proceed, without delay, in finishing my intended work. Be assured, your wishes, madam, have all the force of a command with me. I send you the first four ‘Dialogues,’ beseeching you to peruse them, not with the partiality of a friend, but the severity of a critic. The like request I have made of others, and have received their friendly corrections. I am deeply sensible of my own deficiencies, and, in order, therefore, to render my work, if possible, fit for public view—meet for the Master’s use, I shall feel obliged by any corrections or improvements, which your pen may make. Your ladyship is at liberty to show the manuscript to whom you please. Your remarks, and those of your friends, may supply the sterility of my invention, and the poverty of my language. If you really approve of what I have sketched, I shall be encouraged to proceed in my work. May I not hope for the honour of dedicating it to your ladyship? It would give me singular pleasure to have any work of my pen patronised by the Countess of Huntingdon.”[211]

Lady Huntingdon sympathized with the design of Hervey’s book; claimed the assistance of all those whom she considered capable of suggesting improvements and useful hints; and transmitted their observations to the author; but declined the offered dedication. Hervey writes:—

“_July 14, 1753._

“MADAM,—Accept my thanks, for taking the trouble of perusing my very imperfect manuscript, and my grateful acknowledgments, for the improving touches and remarks you have made, as well as for those of your highly valuable friends and acquaintances. The corrections will be exceedingly beneficial to the work, and render it more acceptable to the public in general. But, I confess, I feel disappointed at your ladyship’s declining to patronise the public attempt of my pen; nevertheless, your observations are so sensible and just, that, I cannot think of pressing the matter on your attention, further than to solicit your prayers for the success of the undertaking, and for the unworthy author.”[212]

Writing, on the same subject, to Mr. Ryland, Hervey says:—

“WESTON-FAVEL, _March 17, 1753_.

“MY DEAR FRIEND,—I thank you, for the trouble of perusing my very imperfect manuscripts; and I desire Mr. Medley to accept my very grateful acknowledgments for the improving remarks he has made. I beg of him to proceed, and to use the same kind of severity with the other sketches. I am sensible, the pointing is inaccurate; and shall be much obliged for every correction in this particular. It will be no less beneficial to my piece, if he pleases to make free use of the pruning knife. Prolixity, upon such a subject, will infallibly create disgust, especially with the polite, for whose perusal and whose service, I would wish my attempt was properly calculated. I don’t pretend, nor indeed do I wish, to write one _new_ truth. The utmost of my aim is, to represent old doctrines in a pleasing light, and dress them in a fashionable or genteel manner.”[213]

Such extracts as these are not without interest. They show, that, Hervey, unlike his friends Wesley and Whitefield, wrote not so much for the masses of the people as for the educated and genteel; and, that, he was intensely anxious to have his publications, in a literary point of view, as perfect as possible.

It was in May, 1752, that, Hervey, in broken health, succeeded his father as Rector of Weston-Favel. Twelve months afterwards, he was called upon to preach, at the visitation of the Archdeacon of Peterborough, in All Saints Church, Northampton. Writing to Lady Frances Shirley, he says,—

“_1753, May 10._ I am now setting out for Northampton, where I am to preach the visitation sermon. I know not how I shall speak, so as to be heard, in that very large and lofty church. May the Lord God Omnipotent make His strength perfect, in my extreme weakness. O! for the eloquence of an Apollos, and the fervour of a Boanerges! I am quite ashamed of my poor, jejune, spiritless, composition; and I am no less ashamed of my unbelief, that, I dare not trust God for utterance; but, before an audience that is critical, forsooth must use my notes.”

Hervey’s text, on this occasion, was, “God forbid, that, I should glory,” etc. (Gal. vi. 14); and the sermon was the first he published. Though not remarkable for either learning or argument, it was thoroughly evangelical and faithful; and, unless the belief and practice of the clergy there assembled were exceptional, it must have been somewhat startling. It was the sermon of a _Methodist_; and _Methodist sermons_ then were seldom heard in the Established Church.

Preaching it was a duty; publishing it was an act of charity. Hence the following:—

“_1753, May 19._ I have lately been somewhat busied in preparing a sermon to be preached before the clergy, at our Archdeacon’s visitation; and, to my weak nerves and languid spirits, a little business is a toil. A commentator, with whom I wish you may long be unacquainted, has taught me the meaning of Solomon’s description, ‘The grasshopper shall be a burden.’ The sermon, though perfectly plain and artless, is in the press. It is printed for the relief of a poor afflicted child, as a short advertisement will inform the world. The person, to whose management it is consigned, has given orders for an impression of two thousand; besides a hundred and fifty, which I have bespoken for myself.”

Printed sermons have seldom been popular; but the adventure, in this instance, succeeded. “I have no business going forward with the printer,” wrote Hervey, in a letter to Lady Frances Shirley, on July 15, 1753.

“My last little essay would have remained in the obscurity of shorthand, if the father of the afflicted youth had not importuned me to send my sermon on a begging errand. I gave it him as a kind of lottery ticket, not without some hopes and many prayers, that it might meet with success, and come up a prize. Nor have I reason to repent; for, though he printed two thousand, he tells me they are almost all sold.”

An extract from another letter may be welcome. It refers, not only to this visitation sermon, but to Hervey’s parochial labours.

“WESTON-FAVEL, _October 28, 1753_.

“I have, this afternoon, been preaching to a crowded audience. You would be surprised, and, I believe, every body wonders that I am able to officiate for myself. I am so weak that I can hardly walk to the end of my parish, though a small one; and so tender, that I dare not visit my poor neighbours, for fear of catching cold in their bleak houses. Yet, I am enabled, on the Lord’s-day, to catechise, and expound to my children in the morning, and to preach in the afternoon. Every Wednesday evening (hay-time and harvest only excepted) I read prayers, and give them a lecture-sermon in Weston church. This is the Lord’s doing, or, as your favourite book expresses it, this is owing to ‘the good hand of my God upon me.’

“God has been pleased to pity the poor youth, for whose relief the visitation-sermon, I preached at Northampton, was printed. An edition of two thousand is disposed of; and the manager, for the distressed object, is venturing upon another edition. See, dear sir, if God will bless, who can blast? If He will further, what can obstruct? A feather, a straw, if He pleases to command, shall be a polished shaft in His quiver. Trust not, therefore, in eloquence or argument, in depth of thought or beauty of style, all of which are confessedly wanting in the present case; but ‘trust ye in the Lord for ever, for in the Lord Jehovah is everlasting strength.’”

Another glimpse of Hervey, in the midst of his rustic congregations, is furnished by a letter written by one of Whitefield’s preachers.

“Last Sabbath-day, I rode to hear Mr. Hervey at Collingtree; and, to my great surprise as well as satisfaction, having never seen such a thing before in prayer-time, instead of singing psalms, they sung two of Dr. Watts’ hymns, the clerk giving them out line by line. After prayer, without going out of the desk, the minister put off his surplice, and expounded the Second Lesson of the day. And then, without going up into the pulpit, he read Ephesians v. 25-27, and spoke from them very sweetly and clearly. He expounds every Wednesday night, at the same church; preaches twice on the Sabbath; catechizes the children; and meets some people on Tuesdays and Thursdays, in or near the parish where his father preached.”[214]

There was no high-church ritualism here; but a godly pastor making himself at home among his poor parishioners, and simply and earnestly trying to promote the spiritual and eternal welfare of them and of their children.

In his enfeebled health, the wonder is how Hervey managed to undertake so many of these rural services. And yet, while thus faithfully discharging his duties as a parish priest, he was, if not an extensive reader, a most diligent student of the holy Bible, and a conscientious cultivator of literary æsthetics. Wesley, when an old man, remarked,—

“I _could_ even now write as floridly and rhetorically as even the admired Dr. R⸺; but, I dare not, because I seek the honour that cometh of God only. What is the praise of men to _me_, that have one foot in the grave, and am stepping into the land whence I shall not return. Therefore I dare no more write in a _fine style_ than wear a fine coat. But were it otherwise, had I time to spare, I should still write as I do. I should purposely decline, what many admire, a highly ornamental style. I cannot admire French oratory; I despise it from my heart.”

It was otherwise with Hervey. Of set purpose, he cultivated the “_fine style_” of writing. Wesley wrote for the _masses_; Hervey for the _élite_ of human society.

“My writings,” said he, “are not fit for ordinary people; I never give them to such persons, and dissuade this class of men from procuring them. O that they may be of some service to the more refined part of the world!”[215]

Wesley and Hervey were equally conscientious; and opinions will differ concerning the wisdom of their different decisions; though all will probably admit, that, if Wesley’s writings had less of scholastic learning, sonorousness, and rhythm, they had vastly more point and power than those of his old Oxford friend. Still, both acted from the purest motive; and it is in such a light that their respective merits should be judged. In a letter to a friend, dated, “Weston-Favel, August 18, 1753,” Hervey writes:—

“I wish you had taken minutes of what you saw most remarkable in your tour through Westmoreland and Cumberland. Described in your language, and embellished with your imagination, an account of these counties might be highly pleasing to all; and, grafted with religious improvements, might be equally edifying. Such kind of writings suit the present taste. We don’t love close thinking. That is most likely to win our approbation, which extenuates the fancy, without fatiguing the attention. Since this is the disposition of the age, let us endeavour to catch men by guile; turn even a foible to their advantage; and bait the gospel hook agreeably to the prevailing taste. In this sense, ‘become all things to all men.’”

Hervey was now possessed of a large and varied library; but, like Wesley, he was, to a great extent, “_homo unius libri_.”

“My library,” says he, “is composed of the books collected by my father and grandfather; among which there are multitudes, that I shall continue a stranger to as long as I live, though they stand at my right hand and my left every day. I want to be better acquainted with God’s holy word; to have its inestimable truths lodged in my memory, its heavenly doctrines impressed upon my heart; that my tempers may take their fashion from it; that my private conversation may be seasoned with it; and my public ministrations enriched by it. Thus, dear sir, may the word of Christ dwell in us richly! I am, what people would call, a moderate Calvinist; but, I assure you, I can bear, I shall delight to have, my notions sifted; nor am I so attached to any favourite scheme, but I can readily relinquish it, when Scripture and reason convince me it is wrong.”

Hervey’s “Theron and Aspasio,”—by far the greatest work of his short life,—was now nearly completed; and his time was chiefly occupied in putting it through the press. All kinds of friends were consulted; and their revisions and emendations solicited. The book was too bulky, and yet Hervey was at his wits’ end to make it less. Postage of proof-sheets was heavy; and compositors and printers were dilatory to a most worrying extent. The year throughout was a trying one, especially to a valetudinarian like Hervey. Brief extracts from his letters will best illustrate what we mean.

“1754, May 4.” Writing to Mr. Ryland, Hervey says,—

“My bookseller tells me, it will be impossible to comprise my essay in less than three volumes of the ‘Meditations’ size. It is much against my inclination to exceed the quantity of two volumes; but, I believe, I must submit, or else we shall cramp the design, and mutilate the plan.”[216]

“May 20. I send two or three manuscripts, and beg of you to exercise the same frankness of admiration, and the same impartiality of censure upon them. My bookseller tells me, it cannot be comprised in less than three volumes. I have always had an aversion to so diffusive a work. Many will not have ability to purchase them; many not have leisure to read them; and to some, I fear, the very sight of three volumes would be like loads of meat to a squeamish stomach. Yet, I cannot contract the work, without omitting those parts which are intended to entertain the reader, keep him in good humour, and allure or bribe him to go on. What would you advise? I send ‘Letters,’ eight, nine, ten, and eleven; and ‘Dialogues,’ fifteen and seventeen. Do, my dear sir, improve, polish, and enrich them. I am, this day, a prisoner in my chamber, and write in much pain. Blessed be God for that world, where all tears will be wiped away from our eyes, and there will be no more pain.”

“May 30. I send herewith four of my ‘Dialogues,’ which I beg of you to examine with a kind severity. I do assure you, I can bear to receive censure from a friend, and will kiss the lips that administer it, especially when it is intended to preserve my attempts to further the glorious gospel from the contempt of the public. I will, ere long, send you, in a frank, a general view of my plan, which, in the execution, is become too prolix, and cannot be comprehended in less than three volumes, unless some judicious friend will help me to curtail and abridge. I am very unwilling to publish a work consisting of three volumes; I apprehend this will obstruct the sale not a little.”

“June 1.” In a letter to Lady Frances Shirley, Hervey writes,—

“May I promise myself the benefit of your opinion concerning the publication of _three_ volumes? As you know the taste and temper of the polite world, I should be much obliged for your advice. And I beg you will not flatter my vanity; but, if you think, that _three_ volumes on a religious subject will be insupportable, be so kind as to tell me plainly. I would fain write what may be acceptable, in order to write what may be useful; and, for my own part, I really am afraid, that, so large a work will be less likely to subserve such a design.”

In another letter, to the same lady, a fortnight afterwards, Hervey wrote:—

“_June 16._ I have still another scruple, which respects not the gay and splendid world, but the mean and penurious. I would gladly have my books in those hands, which hold the plough, and ply the distaff, because these persons are as nearly related to the all-creating God, and as highly beloved by the ever-blessed Jesus, as those who wear a crown, or wield a sceptre. But these will hardly be able to purchase _three_ volumes. I thank your ladyship for your kind offer, in reference to the princess; but my work is so far from being ready to come abroad, that, it is not yet in the press. The necessary preliminaries, one of which is the number of the volumes, are not settled; though, as to this particular, I begin to be pretty well satisfied.”

“_June 21._ Before this arrives, I hope my ‘Dialogues’ will have received the free correction, and the friendly improvement of your pen. As, through my many and repeated infirmities, I had long discontinued and have often intermitted my intended work, I am informed, from London, that the abettors of the Socinian scheme have been pleased to triumph in my disappointment; imagining that, through fear or inability, I had laid aside my design, and insinuating, that, I had changed my principles, or was conscious of the weakness of my cause. From these gentlemen, if my essay should appear in public, it may expect a severe examination, and probably a violent attack. I hope your friendship will anticipate their inveteracy, and remove those blemishes, which might give them a handle for censure, or a ground for insult. What is your opinion, as to publishing _three_ volumes? Mr. Moses Brown and another friend pronounce in the affirmative, though I am much afraid that this circumstance will clog the sale. There are several pieces that are a kind of excursion from the principal subject, calculated to relieve and entertain the reader, yet not without administering some spiritual benefit. A whole ‘Dialogue’ upon the wisdom, power, and goodness, displayed in the contrivance and formation of the human body. Two or three ‘Letters,’ pointing out the traces of the same grand and amiable attributes in the constitution of the earth, the air, and the ocean. These I am afraid to lop off, lest it should be like wiping the bloom from the plum, or taking the gold from the gingerbread. To you I say gingerbread, though I would not say so to the public, for I really think the taste of the present age is somewhat like the humour of children: their milk must be sugared, their wine spiced, and their necessary food garnished with flowers, and enriched with sweetmeats.”

“_July 8._ I have had my bookseller’s opinion with relation to the number of copies proper to be printed, at which I am somewhat surprised, and must desire your advice. He says 5000 in small, and 750 in large, octavo. To this I have some objections. In the first place, the sale of such a prodigious quantity cannot be but hazardous, though, I must confess, I have no reason to distrust the goodness of that over-ruling Providence, to which I would humbly ascribe the acceptance of a preceding essay. This scruple, therefore, shall be set aside. But what think you of the following consideration? Errors and weaknesses, if such a number be printed at once, may never be corrected; whereas, if we publish half the proposed number, and a second edition is demanded, there may be an opportunity of correcting mistakes, and re-touching inaccuracies. May I not hope to receive a few hints for a Preface, in which I am advised to declare, that, it is my firm resolution to enter no farther into the controversy? with this view, that, in case the doctrines are attacked, other and abler champions may see a clear stage for their entrance.”[217]

“_July 13._ Here are six ‘Dialogues.’ May God enable you to search them, as with a candle, and make them such as He will condescend to bless! I have dropped several objections and answers; yet, I fear, too many are still retained. A multiplicity of objects dissipates the attention either of the eye or mind. Are, what the painters call, the two unities preserved? one principal action and one grand point of view in each piece? Does Theron speak enough, or with such weight, and such a spice of the _sal Atticus_, as might suit his character? Here and there, a touch of wit or genteel satire in him, I think, would be grateful, especially in the first part, before he is brought to a conviction of his guilt?” “You can scarcely imagine what a demand there is for the book, even before publication. It makes me rejoice with trembling. I now feel the loss of our valuable friend, Dr. Doddridge, to whose judgment I ever paid the highest deference. I expect you will tell me my manuscript is very prolix; but I designedly made it so, that my friends may judge what is proper to be omitted. It is easier you know, to expunge than to compose. I wish they would, with a leaden pencil, enclose in a parenthesis what they would have dropped. I hope to retrench one-fourth of the copy.”

_September 28._ I have to request the honour of your name, to dignify and recommend my book, which has been, for a considerable time, committed to the press. It will, I believe, be entitled ‘Theron and Aspasio; or, a Series of Dialogues and Letters, upon the most _Important_ and _Interesting_ Subjects.’ The whole will constitute three volumes. It will, I apprehend, make its appearance about the time appointed for the meeting of the Parliament; and I know no person whose name will give the author more satisfaction, or be a higher recommendation to his performance, than your ladyship’s.“[218]

“_November 24._ You have highly obliged me, in permitting me to grace my work with your name. I have been, ever since I received your ladyship’s letter, engaged to keep no less than eight hands constantly employed in printing, which has taken up all my time. Be so kind, madam, as to favour me with your advice, whether I should present the book to the princess.[219] I must, I apprehend, present it to the prince’s preceptor,[220] because he is our diocesan, and treated me in a very genteel manner, when I received institution from him. This is the last frank I have. Could you, Madam, accommodate me with a fresh supply? At this juncture a few of those vehicles would be very welcome and serviceable.”[221]

Again, a few days later, to the same lady, Hervey wrote:—

“To grant my request was obliging; to grant it so speedily was like yourself. My hands are still tied by the business of the press. You can hardly imagine what obstructions and mistakes happen in the process of such a work, especially when the author is at a distance from the press. I take it for granted your ladyship approves of my presenting the piece to the princess, but would you have me attempt to put it into the hands of the prince?[222] I question whether the bishop would think it a proper book for his royal highness’s collection. I dare say Mr. Stone[223] (who, I am told, is the principal director of the prince’s conduct), would banish it, not for a term of years, but, for ever; and not to the American colonies, but to the country of the Hottentots. I dare not expect that the bishop himself will like it; but, perhaps, he will dislike my practice, if I do not pay him the compliment. When he gave us a charge, at his last visitation, he inveighed against enthusiasm on the one hand, and profaneness on the other; and some of our reverend brethren took notice, that, when delivering himself on the former topic, he frequently threw his eye upon my friend Hartley and me. However, this I must say, he wrote me a very handsome letter, when I presented him with the ‘Remarks on Lord Bolingbroke;’ and, in a private letter, which I happened to see, expressed no disapprobation concerning the ‘Meditations.’”

“_December 26._ I have a fresh obligation to your ladyship for procuring me the opinion of good Dr. Hales.[224] I cannot but be pleased with his approbation; but I cannot persuade myself, that, the bishop will undertake to present the books, or even consent to his royal pupil’s reading them. In case he should present them, who knows in what manner he may do it? Suppose he should shrug his shoulders, and say, ‘An ambitious and conceited clergyman of his diocese, by the importunity of request, in a manner, forced him upon this office. How ungraceful would the affair appear, and how unsuitable to decorum of conduct! Upon the whole, I am in a state of real perplexity. I would not seem to slight the Doctor’s opinion, much less reject his solicitation; yet, I cannot prevail upon myself to think, that, to execute the proposal would be the propriety of action. I hope, madam, you will give me your free advice, and help to extricate me from this embarrassment, into which yourself, yes, you yourself, have led me. For I should never have been known to such grand personages, if you had not condescended to introduce me. My name had never been heard by a royal ear, if it had not received some credit by your ladyship’s notice.”[225]

These extracts might be multiplied; but the reader has had sufficient for the purpose of showing the almost extreme assiduity of Hervey in making his book correct and popular. Among others, he consulted his old friend Wesley, who revised the first three “Dialogues,” and “sent them back with a few inconsiderable corrections.” Hervey replied, “You are not my friend, if you do not take more liberty with me.” Wesley promised, that, he would; upon which the manuscripts were again revised; and alterations were made of a more important character.[226] Whether Wesley, on this occasion, had used the prerogatives of a _friend_ to a greater extent than Hervey liked, is a matter which has never been explained; but it is quite certain, that, when Hervey’s work was nearly ready for the public, Hervey and Wesley, by some means, had become alienated, and were no longer the warm-hearted friends they had been in former days. Writing to Lady Frances Shirley, under the date of January 9, 1755, Hervey says,—

“Mr. John Wesley takes me very roundly to task, on the score of predestination; at which I am much surprised. Because a reader, ten times less penetrating than he is, may easily see, that, this doctrine (be it true or false) makes no part of my scheme; never comes under consideration; is purposely and carefully avoided. I cannot but fear he has some sinister design. Put the wolf’s skin on the sheep, and the flock will shun him, the dogs will worry him. I do not charge such an artifice, but sometimes I cannot help forming a suspicion.”

This is a mournful episode. From letters, already printed in the foregoing pages, it is manifest, that, Hervey, at one period, held Wesley in the highest affection and esteem; and, that, this was mutual is evident from the fact, that, as recently as the year 1754, not only had Hervey twice over requested Wesley to revise his “Theron and Aspasio,” but, Wesley (at the time an invalid like Hervey) had requested his friend to revise his “Notes on the New Testament.” Hence the following:—

“WESTON-FAVEL, _June 29, 1754_.

“DEAR SIR,—I have read your ‘Notes,’ and have returned them by the Northampton carrier, and transmitted such observations as occur to my mind. I think, in general, you are too sparing of your remarks and improvements. Many expositions are too corpulent; your’s are rather too lean. May the good hand of the Lord be with them and with their author! ‘Bengelius’ is likewise returned, with thanks for the use of that valuable book. Please to present my affectionate respects to Mr. Charles, and desire him, if he has done with ‘Vitringa,’ to send it by the same conveyance as brings your parcel. Let me beg to be remembered in your prayers, and in his, that, I may not dishonour the relation of, dear sir, your brother and friend in Christ,

“JAMES HERVEY.”[227]

The two old Oxford friends were now estranged; and, mournful to relate, their friendship was not renewed till they met in heaven. But more of this anon.

Hervey’s “Theron and Aspasio” was advertised to be published on February 18, 1755; but he writes, “there are so many unexpected remoras, that, I dare not answer for its forthcoming, even at the expiration of ten days more.”

A copy of the “large octavo edition” is before us, in three volumes; pp. 405, 464, and 446; with a dedication, as already intimated, “to the Right Honourable Lady Frances Shirley.”[228] The following is a copy of “the Contents”:—

“Dialogue I. Character of the speakers.—On improving conversation.—Elegance and dignity of the Scriptures.

“Dialogue II. Walk through the gardens.—The beautiful frame and beneficial ordination of things.—Preparatory discourse on the Imputation of Christ’s Righteousness.—Meaning of the terms settled.

“Dialogue III. Walk through a meadow.—Doctrine of Christ’s satisfaction stated.—Considered as a Redemption Price, and as a Sacrifice for sin.—Variously typified under the Mosaic dispensation.

“Dialogue IV. Park and romantic mount.—Christ’s death further considered, as the very punishment which our sins deserved.—Objections, ancient and modern, answered.—The whole summed up and improved.

“Dialogue V. Elegant arbour in the flower-garden.—Imputation of Christ’s obedience.—Objections from reason canvassed.

“Dialogue VI. Gallery of pictures.—Library and its furniture.—A sordid taste in painting censured; a more graceful manner displayed.—Imputation of Christ’s Righteousness resumed.—Objections from Scripture urged and refuted.

“Dialogue VII. Hay-making.—Pleasures of nature freely enjoyed.—Blessings of grace bestowed with equal freeness.—Theron’s plan of acceptance with God; consists of sincerity, repentance, and good works, recommended by the merits of Christ.—This shown to be a false foundation.—No such thing as a good work, till we are accepted through the Redeemer.

“Dialogue VIII. Duelling.—Animadversions on the practice.—Spirituality and extent of the Divine law.—Infinite purity of God.

“Dialogue IX. Curious summer-house.—No relaxation of the Divine law, as to the precept or the penalty.—Its inflexible strictness, and principal ends.

“Dialogue X. Theron’s last effort to demolish the evangelical scheme of justification.—Among other objections, more plausible and refined than the preceding, he strenuously insists, that, faith is our righteousness.—Review of the whole.

“Dialogue XI. Ruins of Babylon.—Fine passage from Mr. Howe.—Depravity and ruin of human nature, as they are represented in Scripture.—Applied, with a view to determine the yet dubious inquiry.

“Dialogue XII. Extremely hot day.—A solemn shady bower.—True method of deriving benefit from the classics.—The wonderful structure and economy of the human body.

“Dialogue XIII. Walk upon the terrace.—Depravity of human nature, laid open and proved from experience.—Uses of the doctrine, and its subserviency to the grand point.

“Dialogue XIV. Theron alone in the fields.—His soliloquy on the charms of rural nature.—His reflections on the past conferences.—Aspasio reinforces his arguments for the Imputation of Christ’s Righteousness.—Recommends self-examination, the keeping of a diary, and prayer for the enlightening Spirit.—Departs, under an engagement to correspond by letter.

“Letter I. Aspasio opens the correspondence with some important articles of duty; designed to facilitate self-examination, and promote conviction of sin.

“Letter II. Theron, convinced of the iniquity of his life, and the evil of his heart, sees the necessity of a better righteousness than his own.—Desires a further explanation, and a fuller proof of the doctrine under debate.

“Letter III. Aspasio proves the point—from the Liturgy—the Articles—the Homilies of the Church of England—and the writings of the Fathers.

“Letter IV. Aspasio re-establishes the tenet, from the Scriptures of the Old Testament.

“Letter V. Aspasio relates a remarkable panic.—Terrors of the day of judgment.—Christ’s Righteousness and its Imputation, largely demonstrated from the New Testament.

“Letter VI. Theron takes a cursory view of the habitable creation.—Traces the perfections of nature through the earth, air, and fire.—Admirable construction, and advantageous effects, of these elements.

“Letter VII. Aspasio takes occasion to display the no less admirable perfection of Christ’s Righteousness.—Its Principle—Extent—Perseverance.

“Letter VIII. Aspasio describes a drought.—Majesty and beauty of the sun, after a night of rain.—The meritorious excellency of Christ’s Righteousness illustrated, from the magnificence of His works, and the divinity of His person.

“Letter IX. Theron’s account of the western cliffs—the wonders of the ocean—and the benefits of navigation.

“Letter X. Aspasio enumerates the much richer benefits resulting from the Imputation of Christ’s Righteousness.—Shows their happy influence, on holiness of heart, and obedience of life.

“Letter XI. Aspasio exemplifies the last particular; in two very memorable instances.—Especially in the conduct of Abraham offering up his son Isaac.

“Letter XII. Aspasio touches upon union with Christ.—How described in Scripture.—Its blessed and glorious effects.

“Dialogue XV. Aspasio revisits Theron.—Theron under anxiety of spirit.—Partly to entertain, partly to comfort his friend, Aspasio enlarges upon the bounty of the Creator, visible both in the animal and vegetable world.—The new convert is slow of heart to believe.—Evangelical motives to faith.

“Dialogue XVI. Harvest scene.—Philenor’s gardens.—Statues.—Grove of evergreens.—Nature of true faith.—Its sure foundation, and sovereign supports.

“Dialogue XVII. A river voyage.—The diversified prospect.—Comparative happiness.—Advantages of peace.—A celebration of the Gospel and its blessings, in a kind of rhapsody.—Christ’s Righteousness applied, to every case of distress, and every time of need.”

Such is Hervey’s own correct outline of his work. As the reader will easily perceive, the book is a mixture of theological teaching and scenic painting, the latter being used, as Hervey himself states, “to soften the asperities of argument.” His “views of nature” are employed, not as being essential to the truths which he wished to teach, but rather, to grace his book with ornament, and to render it more readable. Whether this ought to be regarded as an excellence or a blemish, Hervey leaves his readers to determine. He writes,—

“The author confesses a very peculiar fondness for the amiable scenes of creation. It is, therefore, not at all improbable, but his excursions on this topic may be of the _diffusive_ kind, and his descriptions somewhat _luxuriant_. It is hoped, however, that, the benevolent reader will indulge him in this favourite foible.”

Hervey’s work was one of great importance. Of his “luxuriant descriptions” nothing need be said, except, that, many of them are quite equal to those in his “Meditations and Contemplations.”[229] Nearly all of them, however, might have been entirely omitted without at all interfering with the principal doctrines which it was the object of Hervey to teach and vindicate. They are excrescences, though beautiful,—oases in a doctrinal arena. To many of Hervey’s readers, they would be the most attractive sections of his book; to others, only intent on pursuing and mastering the author’s argument, they would be embellished barriers, and would be skipped.

To Hervey’s doctrines, considered as a whole, orthodox Christians can take no exception. Wesley observed with perfect justness, “Most of the grand truths of Christianity are herein explained and proved with great strength and clearness.”[230] The _crux criticorum_ was Hervey’s peculiar views of what he called “the imputed righteousness of Christ.” A few brief extracts will show what he meant.

“_Aspasio._ Justification is an act of God Almighty’s grace; whereby He acquits His people from guilt, and accounts them righteous; for the sake of Christ’s righteousness, which was wrought out for them, and is imputed to them.

“_Theron._ Two of your terms want some further explication. What do you understand by _Christ’s righteousness_? And what is the meaning of _imputed_?

“_Aspasio._ By _Christ’s righteousness_, I understand, _all_ the various instances of His _active_ and _passive_ obedience; springing from the perfect holiness of His heart; continued through the whole progress of His life; and extending to the very last pang of His death. By the word _imputed_, I would signify, that, this righteousness, though performed by our Lord, is _placed to our account_; is reckoned or adjudged by God as _our own_. Insomuch, that we may _plead_ it, and _rely_ on it, for the pardon of our sins; for adoption into His family; and for the enjoyment of life eternal.”

Again: _Aspasio_ says,—

“The nature of justification, and the nature of condemnation are two _opposites_, which will mutually illustrate each other. What is implied in the condemnation of a sinner? He forfeits eternal life, and is doomed to eternal death. What is included in the justification of a sinner? It supersedes his obligation to punishment, and invests him with a title to happiness. In order to the _first_, there must be a remission of sins. In order to the _second_, an imputation of righteousness. _Both_ which are derived from Christ’s mediation on our behalf; and _both_ take place, when we are united to that Divine Head.”

_Theron_ answers,—

“This, I know, is the fine-spun theory of your systematic divines. But where is their _warrant_ from Scripture? By what authority do they introduce such subtle distinctions?”

“_Aspasio._ I cannot think the distinction so subtle, or the theory so finely spun. To be released from the _damnatory_ sentence, is one thing; to be treated as a _righteous_ person, is evidently another. Absalom was pardoned, when he received a permission to remove from Geshur, and dwell at Jerusalem. But this was very different from the re-commencement of filial duty, and parental endearment. A rebel may be _exempted_ from the capital punishment, which his traitorous practices deserve; without being _restored_ to the dignity of his former state, or the rights of a loyal subject. In _Christianity_ likewise, to be freed from the charge of guilt, and to be regarded as a righteous person, are two several blessings; really distinct in themselves, and often distinguished in Scripture.”

Instances being adduced in proof of this, _Aspasio_ continues,

“Let me produce one text more,—‘I send thee to turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto God; that, they may receive forgiveness of sins, and inheritance among them which are sanctified by faith that is in Me’ (Acts xxvi. 18). Here Christ distinguishes between _remission of sins_, and the _inheritance of the saints_; between the _pardon_ that delivers from hell, and the _justification_ that entitles to heaven. So that the former does by no means constitute the latter; but is connected with it, as a link in the same sacred chain; or included in it, as part of the same glorious whole.

“_Theron._ Admitting your distinction to be just, is not the satisfaction, made by the death of Christ, sufficient of _itself_ to obtain, both our full pardon, and our final happiness?

“_Aspasio._ Since my friend has started the question, I may venture, with all reverence to the divine counsels, to answer in the negative; it being necessary, that, the Redeemer of man should _obey_, as well as _suffer_, in their stead” (John x. 18; Matt. iii. 15; Rom. v. 17). “It should be considered, Whether Christ’s sufferings were a complete satisfaction of the law? Complete they were with regard to the _penalty_, not with regard to the _precept_. A distinction obvious and important. From whence arises the following argument; which, for once, you will allow me to propose in the _logical_ form. By what alone the law was not satisfied; by that alone sinners could not be justified: By Christ’s sufferings alone, the law was not satisfied. Therefore, by Christ’s sufferings alone, sinners could not be justified. But when we join the active with the passive obedience of our Lord,—the efficacy of the one, with the perfection of the other,—how does our justification stand firm, in the _fullest_ sense of the word! We have _all_ that the law demands, both for our exemption from the curse, and as a title to the blessing.

“_Theron._ But if we are justified by Christ’s fulfilling the law, we are justified by works. So that, before you can strike out such a way of salvation, you must _contradict_ yourself; and, what is more adventurous, you must abolish that fundamental principle of the Gospel; ‘By the works of the law, shall no flesh be justified.’

“_Aspasio._ I grant it, _Theron_. We _are_ justified by works. But whose? The works of Christ, not our own. And this is very far from contradicting ourselves; equally far is it from abolishing, what you call the _Gospel-principle_. Between the covenant of works, and the covenant of grace, this, I apprehend, is the difference: By the former, man was indispensably bound to obey, in his _own person_. By the latter, the obedience of _his surety_ is accepted, instead of his own. The righteousness required by both, is, not _sincere_, but _complete_; not proportioned to the abilities of fallen man, but to the purity of the law, and the majesty of the Lawgiver. By this means, the glory of God as an awful sovereign, and the glory of His law as an inviolable system, are entirely preserved and illustriously displayed. The salvation of sinners, neither clashes with the truth, nor interferes with the justice of the supreme Legislator. On the contrary, it becomes a _faithful_ and _just_ procedure of the most High God, to justify _him that believeth on Jesus_.

“_Theron._ Farewell then to our own obedience. No more occasion for any holiness of life. Fine divinity truly! Should I not rather say? Downright Antinomianism!

“_Aspasio._ No, my friend; Christ came not to destroy the law, but to fulfil. He has fulfilled it to the very uttermost, in His own person. He has also merited for _us_, and conveys to _us_, those supplies of the Spirit, which alone can enable us to yield faithful and acceptable obedience.

“_Theron._ My principal objection is not satisfied. I was observing, that, according to _your_ manner of stating the affair, salvation is no longer free, but founded upon works. They are the works of the law, though Christ performs them. To maintain that we are justified by these works, is to confound the difference between the law and the Gospel.

“_Aspasio._ Though we should admit your premises, we cannot acquiesce in your conclusion. The same righteousness, by which we are justified, is both legal and evangelical. _Legal_, in respect to _Christ_, who was made under the law, that He might obey all its commands. _Evangelical_, in respect to _us_, who work not ourselves, but believe in the great _fulfiller_ of all righteousness. We are justified _by_ works, if you look forward to our Surety. We are justified _without_ works, if you cast a retrospective view on ourselves. The grand reason, which inclines some people to reject this comfortable doctrine, lies concealed, if not in an absolute disbelief of our Lord’s eternal glory and Godhead, yet, in _unsettled_ apprehensions of it, or an habitual _inattention_ to it. If our Saviour was not really God, it would be a reasonable practice to disavow the imputation of His righteousness. Because, upon such a supposition, His obedience was no more than bounden duty; in which there could not be the least pretence to merit, and which could be profitable to none but Himself. Whereas, if we verily believe Him to be the Incarnate God, His submission to the law becomes an act of _voluntary_ humiliation. Which circumstance, together with the _transcendent_ dignity of His person, renders His obedience, not meritorious only, but inexpressibly and _infinitely_ meritorious.

“_Theron._ But if Christ’s righteousness, _His very_ righteousness, be imputed; then, the true believers are altogether as righteous as Christ Himself. Whereas, if you maintain, that, His righteousness is imputed only _as to its effect_, you will keep clear of this rock.

“_Aspasio._ This, I fear, will be like keeping clear of _Scylla_, only to fall foul upon _Charybdis_. What are the effects of the Mediator’s righteousness? Pardon of sin, justification of our persons, and the sanctification of our nature. Shall we say, these effects, these benefits, are imputed? To _talk_ of their imputation, I think, is an affront to sound sense. All these benefits are not imputed, but imparted; they are not reckoned to us, but are really enjoyed by us. Yet it does by no means follow, that believers are altogether as righteous, as Christ; unless you can prove, that, to be the _receiver_ is, in all respects, the same, as to be the _Author and Finisher_. The righteousness of Christ arises solely from Himself; the source of ours subsists in another. Christ’s righteousness is originally and absolutely _His own_; whereas, it is made ours in a way of favour, and gracious imputation.”

“_Theron._ But if Christ’s perfect obedience be accounted ours, me-thinks, we should have no more need of _pardoning_ mercy than Christ Himself.

“_Aspasio._ Yes; because _before_ this imputation, we were sunk in guilt, and dead in sins. Because, _after_ it, we are defective in our duty, and in many things offend.

“_Theron._ Does not this doctrine render the intercession of our Saviour _superfluous_? What occasion have _they_ for an advocate with the Father, whose righteousness has neither blemish nor imperfection?

“_Aspasio._ They stand in need of an advocate, first, that they may be brought home to the _Repairer of their breaches_, and made partakers of His righteousness by a living faith. Next, that their faith may be preserved, notwithstanding all opposition, steadfast and immovable; or rather, may be carried on, victorious and triumphant, to the end.

“_Theron._ You say, ‘Christ performed all that was conditionary’; then He _repented_ for us, and _believed_ for us.

“_Aspasio._ Christ performed whatever was required by the covenant of works, both before it was violated, and after it had been transgressed. But neither _repentance_ nor _faith_ was comprehended in this institution. It was not therefore necessary, neither indeed was it possible, for our spotless and Divine Lord to repent of sin, or believe in a Saviour.

“_Theron._ However, from what you have advanced, _this_ will unavoidably follow—That a man is to be justified, under the character of a notorious transgressor of the law; and justified under the character of a sinless observer of the law. And what is this, but a _glaring inconsistency_?

“_Aspasio._ Not at all inconsistent, but absolutely needful, if we consider those distinct branches of the Divine law, the _preceptive_ and the _penal_. Both which, in case of guilt already contracted, must necessarily be satisfied. Not at all inconsistent, if we take in the _two constituent parts_ of justification, the acquittance from guilt, and a title to life. The former supposes us to be transgressors of the law; and such the highest saints in the world are. The latter requires us to be observers of the law; and such must the inheritors of heaven be. Much less is this inconsistent, if we consider believers in their _personal_ and _relative_ capacity; as they are in themselves, and as they are in their Surety. Notorious transgressors in themselves, they have a sinless obedience in Christ. The consciousness of _that_, will be an everlasting motive to humility; the belief of _this_, an inexhaustible source of joy.”

In these extracts, the reader has, in Hervey’s own words, a full account of his doctrine of the imputed righteousness of Christ. All must admit, his fairness in the putting of Theron’s objections; most will doubt his successfulness in answering them. His theory, that, the death of Christ bought the sinner’s pardon, and the righteousness of Christ procured for the sinner the privileges and rights of justification; or, to speak more precisely, of adoption into the family of God, was a speculative distinction, without Scriptural authority, and pregnant with antinomian heresy. He meant well; but he missed the mark. Wesley was right, when he said,—

“‘The imputed righteousness of Christ’ is a phrase not scriptural. It has done immense hurt. I have had abundant proof, that the frequent use of this unnecessary phrase, instead of ‘furthering men’s progress in vital holiness,’ has made them satisfied without any holiness at all; yea, and encouraged them to work all uncleanness with greediness.”[231]

Hervey’s book created great commotion. It was both attacked and defended; and was turned to good purpose and to bad. Sandeman, in his “Letters on Theron and Aspasio,”[232] both approved and disapproved. Cudworth, a dissenting minister, in his reply to Sandeman,[233] was a warm defender of his friend, the Church of England rector. Dr. Witherspoon, “Minister of the Gospel in Beith,” published a pamphlet of 72 pages, in 1756, to show, that Hervey’s doctrine of justification, by imputed righteousness, does not weaken the obligations to holiness of life. Besides these, other pamphlets were issued, on both sides of the dispute; but the only one which Hervey himself answered, was a tract by his old friend Wesley. This will be noticed hereafter. Meanwhile, a selection from Hervey’s voluminous correspondence will furnish the reader with glimpses of this period of Hervey’s history.

Lady Frances Shirley had given him a hint, that some one wished to make a present to the author of “Theron and Aspasio.” He replied:—

“WESTON-FAVEL, _February 23, 1755_.

“My thirst after books is very much allayed. I have bid adieu to the curious and entertaining inventions of wit, or discoveries of science. My principal attention is now devoted to the sacred oracles of inspiration. These I should be glad to have in their noblest form and highest perfection; and, I find, there is now published a very fine edition of the Hebrew Scriptures, by Father Houbigant. Such a present would be singularly acceptable, and, I hope, it would be beneficial. I do not know the price: though, I fear, it will be costly; as it consists of four tomes in folio, and as Hebrew printing is uncommonly expensive.”[234]

The next refers to the same subject, and to his being thanked for a copy of his “Theron and Aspasio,” by Her Royal Highness the Princess of Wales.

“_March 1._ If what I mentioned be an improper proposal, you will have such a kind regard to the unadvised writer, as to stifle and suppress his project. My heart is not set on that or any other book. As I have the Bible in its pure and sacred original, I can dispense with the circumstance of a grand and pompous form.

“I have received a very friendly letter from the bishop; and Dr. Hales has transmitted to me the thanks of her royal highness. Alas, madam! what good does this do me? Or, if I were presented to a deanery, what service would that do me when I stand at the great tribunal? Blessed Jesus, let not my poor endeavours be rewarded with such chaff! Be Thou glorified; let souls be edified; and then _they_ who read, and _he_ who wrote, may one day rejoice together.”

The demand for Hervey’s book was such, that, though the first edition consisted of nearly six thousand copies, a second edition was almost immediately required. He writes to the Rev. John Ryland:—

“_March 8._ We have begun another edition, and ventured to print three thousand. Any remarks and improvements will be extremely welcome; but they must be communicated soon, otherwise, perhaps, they cannot take place; for it was proposed to begin upon each volume at once; and proceed, by means of several hands, and several presses, with great expedition.

“The Princess of Wales, and my other noble friends, were pleased to receive my books, in a very candid and obliging manner.”[235]

Seven days later, he wrote again:—

“_March 15._ The author of the _London Magazine_ has taken notice of ‘Theron and Aspasio,’ and, really, in a very respectful and honourable manner. My sentence in the _Gentleman’s Magazine_ is respited till next month. I know not whether the _Monthly Review_ has taken me to task; but this I know, that, if God be for us, it matters not who is against us.”[236]

Hervey perceived his book would be attacked on the ground, that, his doctrine of the imputed righteousness of Christ led to Antinomianism; and he already entertained the idea of writing another work as a sort of appendix to his former one. Under the date of March 19, 1755, he observes:—

“I proposed to have closed the plan of ‘Theron and Aspasio’ with an explicit and pretty copious treatise on evangelical holiness or obedience; and to have shown my true believer in his dying moments. If your thoughts should happen to take such a turn, be so good as to suggest what you think the most advisable and advantageous way of managing this important point. This would most effectually stop the mouths of Arminians, and be the best security against the abuses of Antinomians. I could wish, if it were the Lord’s will, that I might live to furnish out one more volume of this kind.”

The sale of “Theron and Aspasio” proceeded with such rapidity, that, the second edition was made larger than Hervey and his publisher had originally agreed. Hence the following:—

“_April 5._ Our new edition goes on at a great rate. They have finished very near half of each volume: and my publisher, presuming that I should have no objection, took the liberty of making the edition consist of 4,000, instead of 3,000, on which we had agreed. I suppose he was prompted to do this, by finding a call for the piece.”[237]

In revising the work for this second edition, he earnestly asked the help, not only of John Ryland, the Baptist minister, but of William Cudworth, the minister of an Independent congregation, in Margaret Street, London. To the latter, he wrote as follows:—

“_April 22._ The doctrine, which you approve in my essay, and have clearly displayed and fully proved in your own writings, is not relished by everybody; no, not by many pious people. I take the liberty to send you a couple of letters containing objections.[238] I wish you would be so kind as to consider them, and, in your _concise_ way, which I much admire, to make your remarks upon them. I am not shaken in my opinion by these attacks; but I should be glad to deliver it more clearly, and establish it more firmly, in another edition.

“I heartily wish you success in your projected work.[239] I assure you, it is my opinion, that, such a book, if well executed, will be one of the most valuable services to the present age. You will not, I hope, be too hasty. Mr. Wesley has huddled over his performance[240] in a most precipitate, and, therefore, most imperfect manner. One would think, his aim was, not to select the best and noblest passages, but to reprint those which came first to hand.”

Cudworth responded to the request of Hervey; and the two henceforward became ardently attached and confiding friends. This, if it did not actually create, widened the breach between Hervey and his old adviser, Wesley. Ten years before, Wesley and Cudworth had come into collision, by Wesley’s publication of his two Dialogues “between an Antinomian and his friend;” partly written in answer to a “Dialogue” which Cudworth himself had published. Wesley, rightly or wrongly, accounted Cudworth an Antinomian, and spoke of him with a severity which he seldom used. Cudworth resented this; angry feelings were engendered; and, beyond a doubt, Hervey’s affection and respect for Wesley were lamentably abated.

The year 1755 was a crisis in the history of the Societies, which had been founded by the labours of Wesley and his itinerant evangelists. At a Conference, held at Leeds, three days were spent in discussing the momentous question, whether the Methodists should separate from the Established Church. It was on this occasion, that, Charles Wesley composed and published his famous poetical “Epistle” to his brother. Hervey heard of this, and wrote as follows:—

“_1755, July 5._ I have just now read advertised in the magazine, the following book, ‘An Epistle from Charles Wesley to John Wesley.’ Has your ladyship seen or heard of it? If you have, be so good as to inform me of the design and contents. I hope, there is no hostility commenced between the brothers. I have no connection, nor correspondence with them, but should be sorry for such an event.”[241]

Hervey had ceased to write to Wesley; but Wesley wrote to him. Hence the following:—

“WESTON, _August, 1755_.

“Pray return Mr. Wesley’s letter. I find, by private intelligence, that, he has shown it in London; and has thought proper to animadvert upon me, by name, from his pulpit. I am inclined to take no notice either of his preaching or his writing.

“My good friend, Mr. Whitefield, is now at my house. He purposes to lift up his voice at Northampton, and proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord.”[242]

Did Hervey get his “private intelligence” from Whitefield? Probably he did. It is a curious fact, that, at this very time, there was a misunderstanding between Wesley and Whitefield, respecting Methodist affairs at Norwich;[243] and, though there was no breach of friendship, it is not at all unlikely, that, this and cognate matters would be the subject of conversation at the meeting which Hervey mentions.

Whitefield was at Weston-Favel on August 30; and here he wrote several letters, remarking in one of them:—“Mr. Hervey is now writing another volume, upon Sanctification.” This, of course, was the work which has been already named; but which was never published. Ten days after Whitefield’s visit, Hervey described his plan, in a long letter, from which the following is an extract:—

“WESTON-FAVEL, _September 10, 1755_.

“MY DEAR FRIEND,—I esteem your letters as treasures. Though I destroy almost all I receive, every one of yours is preserved.

“The grasshopper is a burden to me. Every blast blows me down, or my continual indisposition and inconceivable languors pierce through me. I now hang a swelled face over my paper; occasioned only by taking the air yesterday in my chair, and finding a sharper atmosphere, than for many weeks I had been accustomed to. Pray for me, dear sir, that, established in Christ, and strong in His faith, I may be looking for, and hasting to the coming of the day of God; when this poor, enervated, crazy body, will be made like unto Christ’s glorious body.

“I live with my mother and sister. Our method is, every morning at nine, when we breakfast, to read a verse or two from the Bible, and make it the subject of our conversation,” etc., etc.

“I desire your opinion concerning the plan of my new work; which, with a weak hand and desponding heart, I have sketched out, though with very little hope of being enabled to execute.

“The _Plan_ of the Supplement to _Theron_ and _Aspasio_.

“Pleasure and happiness of Christ’s religion (for I am of the same mind with Mr. Marshall, in his Treatise on Sanctification, namely, that, we must partake of the comforts of the Gospel, before we can practise the duties of the law).—Theron oppressed with fears, on account of his numerous sins.—Discouraged with doubts on account of his imperfect obedience.—The cordials of the Gospel re-administered, with some additional spirit and strength.—Objections to assurance of faith, stated, discussed, answered.—Vital holiness; its nature, necessity, excellency.—Its grand efficient, the blessed Spirit.—Its principal instrument, true faith; mixed with which, the Scriptures, the Lord’s Supper, prayer, the divine promises, are powerful and effectual means; disunited from which, they are a dead letter and insignificant ordinances.—The evangelical principles of holiness, such as, ‘I beseech you by the mercies of God’; ‘Ye are bought with a price’; ‘Ye are the temples of the living God’; etc.—All these privileges, though not hereditary, yet indefeasible; or the final perseverance of the believer.—Our friends part; renew their correspondence; Theron desires to glorify the God of his salvation, asks advice concerning the best method of family worship, educating children, instructing servants, edifying acquaintance.—On each of these particulars, Aspasio satisfies his inquiry, enlarges on the subject of education, especially of daughters; as that seems to be the most neglected, or the proper way of conducting it least understood.—Letter on the covenant of grace, comprising the substance, and being a kind of recapitulation, of the three foregoing volumes.—Aspasio seized with a sudden and fatal illness; his sentiments and behaviour in his last moments.

“If, dear sir, you see anything in this plan, that is improper; anything that is defective, supply it; and if any thoughts occur on any of the topics, be so kind as to suggest them.”

Hervey, certainly, had great encouragement to continue the employment of his pen. The first edition of “Theron and Aspasio,” as already stated, consisted of nearly six thousand copies; and the second of four thousand; and yet, within nine months from the time when the work was first published, a third edition issued from the press.

No wonder, that, the book obtained the attention of Hervey’s old friend, Wesley. The first three of the Dialogues had been submitted to him, in manuscript, for his revision, and he had sent “some important alterations.” Now he read the whole of Hervey’s work, not only once, but twice, and says, “I wrote him my thoughts freely, but received no answer.” This was probably the letter which Hervey mentions, in one of the foregoing pages, under the date of “August, 1755.” In a little more than a year afterwards, Wesley wrote again; and this letter, he himself subsequently published; though, he says,—

“At the time I wrote, I had not the least thought of making it public. I only spoke my private thoughts, in a free, open manner, to a friend dear as a brother,—I had almost said, to a pupil,—to a son; for so near I still accounted him.”

No doubt this second letter contained the substance of the former one. There is much in Hervey’s book which Wesley heartily commends: the chief points of animadversion are two. (1) He begs that Hervey will lay aside the phrase “the imputed righteousness of Christ,” adding, “it is not scriptural, it is not necessary, it has done immense hurt.” Unprejudiced readers must allow that this position is impregnable. Many of Wesley’s critiques are so brief as to be almost blunt, but they serve to show that Hervey’s interpretation of scriptural texts, in support of his favourite idea of the Imputed Righteousness of Christ is, in many instances, at least, arbitrary and incorrect; and, in all instances, insufficient for his purpose. To this part of Wesley’s letter no exception ought to have been taken. True, it destroys the pivot on which the whole of Hervey’s book is made to turn; but all that is said is relevant, and there is nothing that is disrespectful. Wesley’s remarks were pointed, but not intended to be impolite. (2) The other section of Wesley’s criticisms, while correct in sentiment, are perhaps hardly pertinent Hervey, to some extent, was undoubtedly a Calvinist; but he never taught, or held the doctrines of unconditional election and reprobation. Remembering this, Wesley was scarcely fair in such comments as the following:—

“‘The righteousness wrought out by Jesus Christ is wrought out for all His people, to be the cause of their justification, and the purchase of their salvation. The righteousness is the cause, and the purchase.’ So the death of Christ is not so much as named! ‘For all His people.’ But what becomes of all other people? They must invariably perish for ever. The die was cast or ever they were in being. The doctrine to pass them by has—

“‘Consigned their unborn souls to hell, And damned them from their mother’s womb.’

“I could sooner be a Turk, a deist, yea, an atheist, than I could believe this. It is less absurd to deny the very existence of God, than to make Him an almighty tyrant.

“‘The whole world and all its seasons are rich with our Creator’s goodness. His tender mercies are over all His works.’ Are they over the bulk of mankind? Where is His goodness to the non-elect? How are His tender mercies over them? His temporal blessings are given to them. But are they blessings to them at all? Are they not all curses? Does not God know they are? that, they will only increase their damnation? Does He not design they should? And this you call goodness! This is tender mercy!

“‘May we not discern pregnant proofs of goodness in each individual object?’ No; on your scheme, not a spark of it, in this world or the next, to the far greater part of the work of His hands.

“‘This is His tender complaint, They will not come unto me!’ Nay, that is not the case; they cannot. He Himself has decreed not to give them that grace without which their coming is impossible.

“‘The grand end which God proposes in all His favourable dispensations to fallen man is to demonstrate the sovereignty of His grace.’ Not so: to impart happiness to His creatures is His grand end herein. Barely to demonstrate His sovereignty is a principle of action fit for the Great Turk, not the Most High God.”

If Hervey had taught the doctrines of ultra-Calvinism, such strictures, though strongly worded, would not have been unjust. But the question is, did Hervey hold the tenets of unconditional election and reprobation? If he did, Wesley was not unfair; if otherwise, Wesley’s remarks are not applicable. Hervey probably clung to the doctrine of election; and, it may be said, this inevitably involves the doctrine of reprobation; but there is no evidence that Hervey regarded it in such a light. On this subject, the man must be allowed to be his own exponent. In a letter, written to Lady Frances Shirley, immediately after Wesley had sent him his criticisms on “Theron and Aspasio,” Hervey observes:—

“WESTON, _November 25, 1755_.

“There is, doubtless, abundance to be said against Predestination. And abundance has been said, with great force of argument, for its support, and that by men of the most eminent learning and exalted piety. As this is the case, and as it is not necessary to faith and salvation either that we should embrace or that we should reject the doctrine, I think we may prudently and safely acquiesce in the advice of a great scholar and a great saint: ‘Let a man go to the grammar-school of faith and holiness before he enters the university of election and predestination,’ I am at the grammar-school; and there, perhaps, I shall continue, till I hear the voice from heaven, saying, ‘_Come up hither, and I will show thee_ what thou couldest not comprehend in the regions below. Madam, shall I have the honour of your ladyship for a form-fellow? _You_ shall be the head-scholar; only be content to allow us your company, and do not leave us for a higher class. Let _us_ study the glories of Christ’s person, and the love of His heart; let _us_ contemplate His infinite satisfaction and everlasting righteousness. May the knowledge of these grand doctrines be revealed in our hearts by the blessed Spirit! May the faith of these unspeakable privileges comfort our souls, purify our affections, and _work by love_! Then we shall, ere long, see every dark, mysterious point cleared up to our full satisfaction. We shall see, without a veil, the shining and adorable perfections of our God. We shall know His unsearchable counsels and wonderful ways, _even as we are known_.

“In the meantime, I would beg leave to decline all controversy. I can very freely converse or correspond with persons who either adopt or discard Predestination; provided, they will not drag in the litigated proposition, and force me to engage in disputation. But, if they are determined to obtrude the bone of contention, I had much rather remain alone and in silence; for, I readily confess, that I am not master of the subject. Therefore it would be very unadvised in me to undertake either its establishment or refutation.

“I believe, I must desire your ladyship to return this letter, with your free remarks upon it, because I do not know but I shall be obliged to explain myself on this subject before the public. Because a person,[244] who makes a great figure in the religious world, has sent me some critical remarks and pretty keen censures on my late work, but inveighs particularly against my predestination principles; at which I am somewhat surprised, because I have (whatever my sentiments are) studiously avoided this peculiarity; I have but barely mentioned it, in the apostle’s own words; only in an incidental manner; and without explaining, enlarging upon, or inculcating it.”

On receiving Wesley’s letter, Hervey wrote to his friend Ryland as follows:—

“_1756, November 29._ Herewith, you have the grand attack from Mr. Wesley, of which I apprised you some time ago. Examine it closely; return it speedily; and, if you please, confute it effectually; demolish the battery, and spike up the cannon. I have not answered in any shape, and, when I do answer with my pen, I propose nothing more than a general acknowledgment, and an inquiry, whether he proposes to print his animadversions.”

Wesley’s strictures were printed in 1758; and till then we must leave the subject.

The only pieces published by Hervey in 1756, were a “Recommendatory Letter,” prefixed to his favourite book, “Marshall’s Gospel Mystery of Sanctification”; and a “Preface” to “Jenks’s Meditations,” the latter of which was reprinted, in two volumes, by Hervey’s expressed desire.[245] Besides these, however, he preached three sermons, which he subsequently committed to the press, with the titles,—“The Time of Danger;” “The Means of Safety” and “The Way of Holiness.”[246]

Hervey’s published sermons are few in number, principally because the sermons he preached were never written.

“I have never,” said he, “since I was minister at Weston, used written notes; so that all my public Discourses are vanished into air; unless the blessed Spirit has left any traces of them, on the hearts of the hearers. And, though I have many Discourses, that were written before I discontinued the use of notes, they are all penned in short-hand, and are intelligible to none but the writer. I sometimes speak to my people an hour together; but I always blame myself for it. It detains the congregation too long. It renders the Discourse tiresome to be heard, and almost impossible to be remembered. This is one of the inconveniences attending the extempore method of preaching. We forget how the time passes away.”[247]

The reason, why he wrote and published the three sermons above mentioned, he states in a letter to Lady Frances Shirley,—

“I am inclined,” said he, “to print two or three Sermons, preached on the late _Fast-Days_. These, for some particular reason, I happened to take down in short-hand. As I have seen no Discourses, on this occasion, that were sufficiently _evangelical_, I have a strong desire, for the supply of this _one_ defect _only_, to appear on the stage.” “Here,” he observed to Mr. Ryland, “I shall make a sacrifice of all my reputation (if I ever had any), with the elegant and polite; and let it go, freely let it go, if any honour may redound to the Lord our Righteousness.”

At the time, England was at war with France; and many of the sermons preached on the day of national humiliation were published; but Hervey was not satisfied. He writes:—

“The author pretends to nothing refined or extraordinary; he affects neither brilliant thought, nor polished style; equally remote from nice criticism and profound learning, his Discourses are studiously _plain_, and brought down to the level of the meanest capacity. ‘What then is his motive?’ This is the very truth. In several of the sermons, published on this occasion, the _one thing needful_ seems to be overlooked. Christ and His free grace,—Christ and His great salvation,—are either totally omitted, or but slightly touched. Till these doctrines are generally inculcated, the most eloquent harangues from the pulpit, or the most correct dissertations from the press, will be no better than a pointless arrow, and a broken bow.”

Space forbids giving an outline of Hervey’s sermons.[248] Suffice it to say, that, they are able and eloquent, and intensely earnest and faithful. If such were a fair specimen of his pulpit performances, Hervey’s preaching must have been as remarkable as his writings; and, had he possessed Whitefield’s voice and elocution, the effects would have been something marvellous. Mr. Ryland, who visited him at Weston-Favel twice a year, observes,—

“He loved simplicity in his _manner_ of preaching. He had no complicated and perplexed conceptions; no crowd of thoughts to overwhelm his own understanding, or the conceptions of his hearers. In all his sermons, you might discern a clear and easy arrangement; nothing tedious; no long-winded periods; no perplexing parentheses; no tiresome circumlocutions; but everything adapted to the weakest memory of his auditors. He despised and avoided all boisterous noise,—all rude and violent vociferation in the pulpit. His subjects were always serious and sublime; they might well be ranged under three heads,—Ruin, Righteousness, and Regeneration. He always steered a middle course, between a haughty positivity, and a sceptical hesitation. He made it an invariable rule to be thoroughly convinced of the truth and importance of his subject, before he proceeded to state and defend it; but, when he was once in possession of a truth, he held it with the greatest fortitude and tenaciousness. He considered very minutely the state of all his hearers. He did not preach to a promiscuous auditory, as though they were all converted to Christ; nor did he treat true believers as though they were in an unregenerate state.”

“He preached without notes,” says his friend, Dr. Stonehouse, “excepting that he had before him a small leaf of paper, on which were written, in short-hand, the general heads and particulars of the sermon, which he sometimes looked at, and sometimes not. He was very regular in his plans, nor was he very long; from thirty to forty minutes was his usual time; rarely longer. His weakness rendering him, for several months before his death, incapable of speaking any length of time to his congregation, he shortened his discourses, and took a most useful method of inculcating his instructions. After he had expounded his text, and divided his sermon into two or three heads, he would speak briefly, and, at the conclusion of each head, enforce what he had said by a pertinent text of Scripture, desiring his congregation to turn to their Bibles, and double down that text. ‘Now,’ he added, ‘my dear brethren if you forget my sermon, you cannot forget God’s word in this text, unless you wilfully throw aside your Bibles. Show this to your children, or the absent part of your family, when you return home.’ Then he gave a striking exhortation, and, at the end of it, another text for them to double down; so that they always had three texts, in order to their finding of which he paused in the pulpit for two or three minutes. This method had another good effect; it obliged the generality to bring their Bibles along with them, for those who were without Bibles lost the benefit of the texts, and were unemployed, while the great majority, who had theirs, were busy looking for the texts referred to in the sermon.”

“My acquaintance with Mr. Hervey,” writes the Rev. Dr. Haweis, “was only of one day. He was removing from his ministerial labours, just as I was ready to enter upon mine; and, being very desirous of seeing him before his departure to glory, I rode from Oxford to Weston-Favel, a distance of about fifty miles, for that purpose. I found him tall and much emaciated. His preaching was purely evangelical, and very similar to his writings, in beautiful comments on the Scriptures he quoted; but his manner of delivery, in the tone of voice and action, far from the elegance I expected. His church was very small; and, though full, was not remarkably crowded; but the people were very attentive to hear him.”

These are mere glimpses of Hervey as a preacher; but they are of some importance, as being furnished by those who saw and heard him.

Hervey had become famous, and some of his friends wished for a formal recognition of the fact. The following refers to this, and also to Wesley’s strictures on his “Theron and Aspasio”:—

“Now for the affair, relating to Mr. Ogilvie’s proposal. Tell our amiable and benevolent friend, that, I am deeply sensible of his kindness; but I must beg of him to lay aside all thoughts of procuring for me so undeserved a distinction. I assure you, it would make me blush, and give me much uneasiness, to be addressed under the character of _doctor_. Never, no never, should I have taken as much as a _master’s_ degree, if I had not been obliged to it, in order to hold what we call ecclesiastical preferment. Preferment? Yes, if rightly understood, it is rightly so called. For what can be a more honourable or exalted office, than to labour for Christ? O that my brethren and I may always understand the word _preferment_ in this truly precious and noble sense!

“It is a great uncertainty, whether I shall be enabled to add another volume. I am told, a very formidable attack is going to be made upon ‘Theron and Aspasio,’ by a hand not well affected to the imputed righteousness of our Lord, but remarkably zealous for the inherent righteousness and _perfection_ of man.”[249]

In this world, no man basks in unclouded sunshine. Upon the whole, the reviews of Hervey’s “Theron and Aspasio,” had been favourable; those of his later publications[250] had been otherwise.

“Have a care,” he wrote, in a letter, dated November 21, 1757, “Have a care, you do not depreciate your works by inserting anything of mine. My poor character is going to execution. The Reviewers have already put the halter about its neck; if, therefore, you would obtain distinction, or are a candidate for fame, stand clear and detached from such a contemptible scribbler.”

Besides this, he suffered increasingly from enfeebled health.

“Incessant and insuperable languors,” he wrote, “unfit me for every business; render every enjoyment unrelishing; and, what is more deplorable, make my temper like the sore, inflamed, ulcerated flesh. Anything that comes unexpected, alarms me; anything that goes cross, vexes me: I am sadly inclined to a peevish humour.”

In another letter, belonging to the same period, he writes:—

“I beg, I entreat you, if you value the honour of the Gospel, that, you will dissuade those polite persons you mention, from coming to hear me to-morrow. My spirits sink more and more, I am visited with some returns of my hacking cough; perhaps I shall not be able to speak at all. Such disagreeable circumstances will only expose me, and create in them very unpleasing ideas of what I shall deliver. My imagination is gone. I am sensible my sermons are flat, and my voice spiritless. The poor country people love me tenderly, and, therefore, bear with my infirmities; else, I should no longer attempt to preach, even before them. I am now unfit to appear in the pulpit.”

In the midst of all this, Hervey commenced the rebuilding of his parsonage; and, besides the vexations usually connected with such undertakings, he had to suffer the annoyance of the builder, with which he had contracted, decamping, before the erection was completed, and exposing poor Hervey to the worry of being dunned by the rogue’s disappointed creditors.[251]

Hervey was more sensitive than he thought he was; and the combined circumstances just mentioned painfully affected him. In the excitement of his feelings, he began to prepare a shilling pamphlet, in reply to the _Critical Review_, which had designated Jenks’s Meditations “ridiculous and enthusiastic.” With greater vulgarity than refinement, they had been described “like hairs on the greasy coat of a groom, or like dish-water thrown down the kennel.” Malevolence like this was too contemptible to be noticed; and, yet, Hervey put himself to considerable inconvenience in writing, “Ned Dry’s Apology for the Critical Reviewers,”—a pamphlet which he intended to be a satirical castigation of his nameless opponents, as well as a vindication of Mr. Jenks and of himself. It was a mistake to notice anonymous revilers at all; and it was an additional mistake for Hervey to attempt to compose a satire. His mind was too exquisitely refined, and his soul too loving, to succeed in literary flagellation. He was himself in doubt respecting this, and wrote to Mr. Ryland as follows:—

“I have not had the pleasure of seeing the _Critical Review_ for December; but, I find, from the advertisements in the public papers, that they take Mr. Jenks and his recommender to task. I am not disappointed; I expected no quarter from them.

“You would smile, and be a little surprised, if you were to see what employed my spare hours almost all last week. I never had such an inclination for buffoonery in all my life. It was occasioned by the unworthy and abusive treatment which the Reviewers bestow upon all the most valuable writers that appear in public; and, I verily think, if their insolence can be curbed, it must be done in obedience to that command of unerring wisdom, ‘Answer a fool according to his folly.’”

Again;—

“My friends, who have seen the piece, absolutely disapprove of it. Dr. Stonehouse says, it is a low, dull, spiritless thing; that, I am no more fit for such kind of writing than a carrier’s horse to run a race. He read it, he tells me, to some ingenious ladies, who have a regard for my character; and they declared, they would come over to Weston, and would, upon their knees, (if it were needful,) solicit me not to publish it. Amidst such a diversity of opinions, how shall I determine?”

Again;—

“I have sent you Mr. Dry’s apology; though it is written, it has been thrown aside. I have several doubts, whether my pen carries any edge, and whether the edge, if there is any, be like the saw, or the razor. Is it of the former kind? Then it will not answer my purpose, and will not gall and check the adversaries of Christ and His servants, but will give them occasion to triumph more extravagantly. I have also some doubt, whether this kind of writing suits my character, as a minister of Jesus Christ. Is it not the Εὐτραπελία which the apostle condemns and banishes from the conversation of Christians? The principal reason to justify such a manner of address is, that no other method seems to have the least probability of succeeding. All that is solid, these men will evade with a sneer; and all that is serious, they will turn into burlesque. Ridicule is the only vein in which they will bleed.”

Nothing more need be added, except, that, though “Ned Dry’s Apology for the Critical Reviewers,” was written, it was never published.

Troubles often come in troops. In 1757, Mr. Robert Sandeman published his “Letters on Theron and Aspasio,” in two volumes,—a work already noticed in the biography of Ingham. Concerning this, Hervey writes as follows:—

“WESTON-FAVEL, _August 6, 1757_.

“The author is a Scotchman, I presume, because the two volumes were printed at Edinburgh, and he gave orders for a set to be sent me from Edinburgh. He conceals his name, and none that I am acquainted with are able to discover whose work it is. There are some strictures on my performance; but by far the greatest part of the book is very wide from this mark. Some things are truly excellent; and some animadversions upon me are perfectly just; but others (if I mistake not) are unfair and disingenuous. The manner of writing is by no means despicable,—rather elegant and spirited, than coarse or dull. But there is such an implacable bitterness of spirit, and such an unchristian virulence of censure, against many of the best men that ever lived, and best authors that ever wrote, as much surprises and greatly offends me. I think I never saw a notion of faith more lax, nor an idea of grace more exalted, than in this book.”

Sandeman’s “Letters” created a great sensation;[252] but Hervey had neither strength nor time to answer them. He was about to measure swords with an opponent far more noted than Mr. Sandeman, and left the latter in the hands of his friend, Mr. Cudworth, who, immediately after Hervey’s death, issued “A defence of Theron and Aspasio against the Objections contained in a late Treatise, entitled ‘Letters on Theron and Aspasio.’ To which is prefixed, a series of Letters from Mr. Hervey to the author, authenticating this Defence with his entire approbation, and manifesting it to be the only one that can be presented to the public with that authority.” pp. 224.

Perhaps the title was more ostentatious than facts would justify; but, still, there can be no doubt, that Hervey was perfectly cognisant of a correspondence between Cudworth and Sandeman, and, that, in the main, he approved of Cudworth’s sentiments. Only three weeks before his death, he wrote to Cudworth as follows:—

“Excuse me for keeping your MS. so long. I have been extremely