The Oxford Methodists

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 follows155:—

“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. Thompson162 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 last164 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. Huygens176 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 letter177 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 Treatise193 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 Letter201 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. Stone223 (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 performance240 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 publications250 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 ill. This morning I have been up for four hours, and, in all that time, not able to look into a book, or hold up my head. I fully assent to your opinions; and think you have proved the warrant of a sinner’s application of Christ very satisfactorily. If I live, I should much desire a copy of this your correspondence, when you have revised and finished it. Or do you intend to print it?”

Hervey now devoted his dying energies to the task of writing a reply to the animadversions of his old friend Wesley. Their friendship was beclouded; and it is a mournful fact, that, the few last months of Hervey’s lovely life were spent in fighting one, who, a quarter of a century before, had been the greatest of his human oracles. He writes,—

“1758, January 3.

“Weak I am, very weak, and much out of order; insomuch, that I have not been able to go to church since Christmas. Mr. Wesley is angry with me, for speaking too much, and, as he thinks, too openly on the side of election and particular redemption. Pray favour me with your free opinion, and wherever you think he charges me justly, or I have expressed myself improperly, spare not to speak the naked truth. He has lately published a large book, price six shillings, stitched, on the doctrine of Original Sin; great part of which is an abridgment of Dr. Watts’s Ruin and Recovery; and of another treatise, written by Mr. Hebden. In this, he takes occasion to quote two or three passages from Theron and Aspasio, one of which he thus introduces,—‘To explain this a little further, in Mr. Hervey’s words, By federal head I mean, that, as Adam was the first general representative (of this kind, says Aspasio, but Mr. Wesley makes him say) of mankind, Christ was,’ etc. He goes on to the bottom of the page, then turns back to the upper part, and represents me as forming a conclusion in these words, ‘All these expressions demonstrate, that, Adam, as well as Christ, was a representative of all mankind;253 and, that, what he did, in this capacity, did not terminate in himself, but affected all whom he represented.’ This is a very injurious representation. One sentence is a palpable misquotation. Would it be proper to take any notice of it! I am sometimes apprehensive, that, he would draw me into a dispute about particular redemption. I know, he can say startling and horrid things on this subject; and this, perhaps, might be the most effectual method to prejudice people against my principal point.”

Hervey’s suspicion was unfounded and ungenerous; but let it pass. His eyes, as far as Wesley was concerned, were now unfortunately jaundiced. Besides, he was, at present, extremely ill; in fact, it was currently reported that he was dead. “I do not go out of my room,” he wrote on January 21st, “till dinner time, and then it is rather to see my relations, than to take refreshment myself.” And again, in another letter, dated the 12th of March, he states, that, he had “not been at church since Christmas.” Still, he was not inactive. The following are extracts from his letters to Mr. Ryland.

“Saturday Morning, January, 1758. I am transcribing my intended answer to Mr. Wesley for the press, but find it difficult to preserve the decency of the gentleman, and the meekness of the Christian. There is so much unfair dealing running through my opponent’s objections, and the most magisterial air all along supplies the place of argument. Pray for me, dear friend, that I may not betray the blessed cause, by the weakness of my reasoning, nor dishonour it by the badness of my temper. Whether I shall be able to finish this work, is apparently uncertain. My cough seizes me, in the night, like a lion; and leaves me, before the morning, weaker than a babe. It has so totally destroyed my small remainder of strength, that, I am quite unable to preach so much as once on the Lord’s day. I am obliged to beg assistance, and am looking out for a curate, to take the whole business on his hand.”

“Weston, March, 1758.

“I am transcribing, though very slowly, and with a most feeble hand, my remarks, ‘on Mr. Wesley,’ for the press. He urges no argument, either to establish his own opinion, or to overthrow mine; only denies the validity of my reasons.”

It is a curious fact, that, Wesley’s strictures on “Theron and Aspasio” had not yet been printed; so that, Hervey was employed in preparing an answer to what existed only in manuscript. Even as late as the 4th of March, 1758, Hervey, writing to a friend, observes:

“I have a long letter, containing two or three sheets, from Mr. Wesley. It consists of animadversions on my Dialogues and Letters. He wrote me one before, more stinging and sarcastic than this. I have taken no notice of either, being very unwilling to embark in controversy.”

Perplexity is here. Wesley had written twice to Hervey, criticising “Theron and Aspasio.” Hervey was obviously offended at Wesley’s abruptness, and, as Hervey believed, dogmatism. Of course, remembering their former friendship, Wesley expected a reply; but, for some reason, Hervey, almost unexceptionally gentle and courteous, resolved to maintain a sort of sullen silence. As yet, Wesley’s critique was not printed; it was simply a private letter. Hervey was apparently as unfit for controversy as he professed to be averse to it: in fact, he was actually dying; and, yet, the tremulous energies of the dying man were exerted to the utmost, in preparing an answer to Wesley’s private letter, not to be sent to Wesley himself, but to be committed to the press. Why was this? If Wesley’s letter was wholly private, why should Hervey answer it in public? He had a right to feel grieved, to be offended, and, if not discourteous, to refuse writing a reply; but was it fair that, without consulting Wesley, he should resolve to publicly answer a private communication, even though that communication was not in the most complaisant language? Wesley’s second letter was dated, October 15, 1756, so that, Hervey had now had it in his possession for nearly a year and a half; and, as his correspondence proves, had shown it to several of his friends. Why did he, at the commencement of 1758, when his health had entirely failed, begin to answer a letter, which, for fifteen months, he had treated with silent sullenness? Was he instigated by Mr. Cudworth, who, at the same time, was in diligent correspondence with Mr. Sandeman? Or had Wesley been so annoyed, by Hervey’s contemptuous silence, as to make his letter the subject of conversation among his friends, and Hervey having heard, that, what had been a private communication was now becoming the subject of public observation, was so extremely sensitive, and so afraid of tarnished honour, that, he unadvisedly resolved to print a public answer, and employed his dying days in writing it? It is impossible to answer these questions with certainty. Opinions will differ. Two holier men than Wesley and Hervey did not live; but, by a most painful misunderstanding, they were now estranged. Which of them was blamable? Was either? or were both?

Wesley disliked Hervey’s doctrine of the imputed righteousness of Christ, and he told him so;—a thing which, as a friend, he had a perfect right to do. If he erred at all, it was in using a brusque abruptness, the very opposite of the sort of style usually employed by Hervey, and which was undoubtedly somewhat grating to a sensitive mind like his. Still, even this may be excused. Wesley was without “learned leisure.” Bearing in mind the incessant duties of his itinerant life, the wonder is, how he found time to write at all. Perforce of circumstances, as well as by deliberate choice, his style of writing was always concise, and frequently abrupt. Besides, in this instance, he was writing, not for the public, but privately to a friend.

“It is no wonder,” says he, “that, several of my objections, as Mr. Hervey observes, ‘appear more like notes and memorandums, than a just plea to the public.’ It is true. They appear like what they are, like what they were originally intended for. I had no thought of ‘a plea to the public’ when I wrote, but of ‘notes and memorandums to a private man.’”254

One cannot but lament, that, they were not thus regarded. In such a case, an unseemly and unhappy controversy would have been avoided. For want of confidence, and a frank and friendly explanation, the two old and warm-hearted friends were alienated from each other. Hervey submitted Wesley’s private letter to the inspection of friends who had no right to see it; Wesley, perhaps, yea probably, heard of this, and made it the subject of remark; Hervey, increasingly irritated, began to write an answer; and now Wesley, in an unlucky moment, published what, up to the present, had been a private letter. Hence the following, by Hervey, to a friend, perhaps Cudworth:—

“Weston-Favel, June 23, 1758.

“I little thought, when I put Mr. Wesley’s manuscript into your hand, that I should see it in print so soon. I took very little notice of it, and let it lie by me for several months, without giving it an attentive consideration. It seemed to me so palpably weak, dealing only in positive assertions and positive denials, that, I could not imagine he would adventure it into the world, without very great alterations. But it is now come abroad, just as you received it, in a two shillings’ pamphlet, entitled, ‘A Preservative from Unsettled Notions in Religion.’ Of this pamphlet, what he has wrote against me, makes only a small part. Now then, the question is, Whether I shall attempt to answer it? Give me your opinion, as you have given me your assistance. Ill I have been, and ill I am; torn almost to pieces by a cough in the night, which admits of no remedy; whatever is taken to assuage, exasperates it. Of all men living, that are not absolutely confined, surely I am the weakest. If by such weakness, the Lord Jesus will vouchsafe to glorify His name, how transparent, how effulgent, will be the glory of His power! Blessed be the Lord, for setting our affections on a happier state! Blessed be His grace, for giving us some knowledge of Jesus, as the way to immortal mansions! There we may be citizens; here only sojourners.”

Hervey not only wrote his answer; but, unfortunately, he submitted it, for revision, to Mr. Cudworth, between whom and Wesley, for several years, Christian charity was nearly at zero. Most of Hervey’s manuscript was sent to Cudworth during the three months, next succeeding the date of the foregoing letter.

“I apprehend,” writes Hervey, “that the piece will make a two-shilling pamphlet. I must entreat you to get time for the revisal of all of it. If you could suggest or insert anything to make it edifying and useful, I should be glad. Would it not be proper to print Mr. Wesley’s letter, and prefix it to my answer?”

Hervey’s reply to Wesley was completed in September. A month afterwards, he wrote as follows:—

“Weston, October 19, 1758.

“I am now so very ill, that, I scarce think I shall live to see the approaching Christmas. I spend almost all my time in reading and praying over the Bible. Indeed, indeed, you cannot conceive how the springs of life are relaxed and relaxing. ‘What thou doest, do quickly,’ is for me a proper admonition, as I am so apprehensive of my approaching dissolution.”

Ill as he was, however, his mind was, at least, occasionally occupied with his controversial pamphlet, which, though written, was still under the revision of his friends. Five days after the date of the preceding extract, he says:—

“Let me repeat my thanks for the trouble you have taken, and for the assistance you have given me, in relation to my controversy with Mr. Wesley. He is so unfair in his quotations, and so magisterial in his manner, that, I find it no small difficulty to preserve the decency of the gentleman, and the meekness of the Christian, in my intended answer. May our Divine Master aid me in both these instances, or else not suffer me to write at all.”255

A fortnight later, he wrote again:—

“Weston-Favel, November 7, 1758.

“I am now reduced to a state of infant weakness, and given over by my physician. My grand consolation is to meditate on Christ; and I am hourly repeating those heart-reviving lines of Dr. Young, in his Fourth Night.

“‘This, only this, subdues the fear of death:—
And what is this? Survey the wondrous cure:
And, at each step, let higher wonder rise!
Pardon for infinite offence!’ etc.

“These amazingly comfortable lines, I dare say, you will treasure up in your heart; and, when you think of them, will think of me. Dear sir, pray for me, that, I may not disgrace my ministry, or dishonour the gospel of my Master, in my last moments, by unbelief—base, provoking unbelief. This probably is the last time you will ever hear from me: for, indeed, it is with some difficulty I have written this; but I shall not fail to remember you, in my intercession for my friends, at the throne of Christ.”

The following letter, though long, is too important to be withheld:—

“London, November 29, 1758.

“Dear Sir,—A week or two ago, in my return from Norwich, I met with Mr. Pierce of Bury, who informed me of a conversation, which he had a few days before. Mr. Cudworth, he said, then told him, ‘that, he had prevailed on Mr. Hervey to write against me, who likewise, in what he had written, referred to the book, which he (Mr. Cudworth) had lately published.’

“Every one is welcome to write what he pleases concerning me. But would it not be well for you to remember, that, before I published anything concerning you, I sent it to you in a private letter?—that, I waited for an answer several months, but was not favoured with one line?—that, when at length I published part of what I had sent you, I did it in the most inoffensive manner possible; in the latter end of a larger work, purely designed to preserve those in connection with me from being tossed to and fro by various doctrines? What, therefore, I may fairly expect from my friend, is, to mete to me with the same measure:—to send to me first, in a private manner, any complaint he has against me;—to wait as many months;—and, if I give you none, or no satisfactory answer, then to lay the matter before the world, if you judge it will be to the glory of God.

“But, whatever you do in this respect, one thing I request of you. Give no countenance to that insolent, scurrilous, virulent libel, which bears the name of William Cudworth. Indeed, how you can converse with a man of his spirit, I cannot comprehend. O leave not your old well-tried friends! The new is not comparable to them. I speak not this because I am afraid of what any one can say or do to me; but I am really concerned for you. An evil man has gained the ascendant over you; and has persuaded a dying man, who had shunned it all his life, to enter into controversy as he is stepping into eternity! Put off your armour, my brother! You and I have no moments to spare. Let us employ them all in promoting peace and good-will among men. And may the peace of God keep your heart and mind in Christ Jesus! So prays,

“Your affectionate brother and servant,

“J. Wesley.”256

This was Wesley’s last letter to Hervey; the following, written three weeks later, was Whitefield’s:—

“London, December 19, 1758.

“And is my dear friend indeed about to take his last flight? I dare not wish your return into this vale of tears; but our prayers are constantly ascending to the Father of our spirits, that, you may die in the embraces of a never-failing Jesus, and in all the fulness of an exalted faith. Oh when will my time come! I groan in this tabernacle, being burdened; and long to be clothed with my house from heaven.

“Farewell! My very dear friend, F-a-r-e-w-e-l-l! Yet a little while, and we shall meet,

“‘Where sin, and strife, and sorrow cease,
And all is love, and joy, and peace.’

“There Jesus will reward you for all the tokens of love which you have showed, for His great name’s sake, to

“Yours most affectionately, in our common Lord,

“G. Whitefield.”

“P.S.—God comfort your mother and relations, and thousands and thousands more that will bewail your departure!”257

The following, it is believed, are Hervey’s last letters,—the first to Mr. Cudworth; the second to Lady Frances Shirley:—

“December 15, 1758.

“Dear Mr. Cudworth,—I am so weak, I am scarce able to write my name.

“J. Hervey.”

“Weston-Favel, December 16, 1758.

“Madam,—I have received your ladyship’s favour, and should have answered it before now; but I have been extremely ill, and still remain so bad, as to be obliged to make use of the pen of another, to inform your ladyship, that I am,

“Madam, your ladyship’s most obliged, and most obedient, humble servant,

“J. Hervey.”

Nine days afterwards, Hervey was a corpse. To his curate, the Rev. Abraham Maddock, he observed,—

“O! how much Christ has done for me; and how little have I done for Him! If I preached even once a week, it was at last a burden to me. I have not visited the people of my parish as I ought to have done, I have not taken every opportunity of speaking for Christ. But, do not think, that, I am afraid to die; I assure you I am not. I know what my Saviour hath done for me, and I want to be gone.”

On December 20th, being visited by his friend Dr. Stonehouse, he remarked,—

“True, doctor, true; the only valuable treasures are in heaven. What would it avail me now to be Archbishop of Canterbury? Disease would show no respect to my mitre. The Gospel is offered to me, a poor country parson, the same as to his grace. Christ makes no difference between us. Oh! why then do ministers neglect the charge of so kind a Saviour, fawn upon the great, and hunt after worldly preferments with so much eagerness, to the disgrace of our orders? These, these are the things, not our poverty or obscurity, which render the clergy so justly contemptible to worldlings. No wonder, the service of our Church, grieved I am to say it, is become such a formal lifeless thing, since it is, alas! too generally executed by persons dead to godliness in all their conversation; whose indifferent religion, and worldly-minded behaviour proclaim the little regard they pay to the doctrines of the Lord, who bought them.”

The day before his death, in walking across his room, he fainted, and, to all appearance was dead. On reviving, his brother William said, “We were afraid you were gone”; to which he answered, “I wish I were.” And well he might, for, besides the utter exhaustion of his strength, his bones were so intensely sore, that, he shrank from the touch of his attendants, when it was necessary to alter his position; but, in the midst of weakness and of pain, he was unceasingly praising God for His boundless mercies, and never received even a piece of lemon to moisten his parched mouth, without uttering thanks.

On December 25, the day he died, he complained of a great inward conflict, and, as he sat in his easy chair, (for he was not able to lie in bed,) almost constantly had his eyes lifted towards heaven, and his hands clasped in prayer. “O let me spend,” said he, “my last few moments in adoring our great Redeemer! ‘Though my flesh and my heart fail me, yet, God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever.’” He then proceeded to expatiate on the words of St. Paul, “All things are yours,—life and death,—for ye are Christ’s.”

“Here,” said he, “is the treasure of a Christian. Death is reckoned in this inventory. How thankful am I for death. It is the passage through which I pass to the Lord and giver of eternal life. It frees me from all this misery which I now endure, and which I am willing to endure, as long as God thinks fit. These light afflictions are but for a moment; and then comes an eternal weight of glory. O! welcome, welcome death! Thou mayest well be reckoned among the treasures of the Christian. To live is Christ, but to die is gain.”

Being raised a little in his chair, he exclaimed, “Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace, according to Thy Word; for mine eyes have seen Thy salvation.” “Here,” he continued, “is my cordial. What are all the cordials given to support the dying, in comparison of that which arises from the promises of salvation by Christ? This, this supports me.”

About three o’clock in the afternoon, he remarked, “The great conflict is over. Now all is done:” after which the only words he articulated intelligibly were, “Precious salvation.” Between the hours of four and five on Christmas-Day, 1758, James Hervey tranquilly fell asleep, in the forty-fifth year of his age.

Three days afterwards, his body was buried under the Communion table of Weston-Favel Church, in the presence of a large congregation. By his own desire, the pall used, on the occasion, was that employed in covering the coffins of his poor parishioners. Deep was the distress of the assembled crowd. Some wept in silence; others sobbed; and others were even more violently affected. The devout Rector was where “the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.”

Funeral sermons were preached, and printed, in London, by Romaine, the Lecturer of St. Dunstan’s; and by Cudworth, the dissenting minister, in Margaret Street. Charles Wesley, also, poured out the affection of his lyric soul, in one of his glowing hymns, from which the following stanzas are extracted:—

“He’s gone! the spotless soul is gone
  Triumphant to his place above;
The prison walls are broken down,
  The angels speed his swift remove,
And, shouting, on their wings he flies,
And Hervey rests in Paradise.

“Redeemed by righteousness divine,
  In God’s own portraiture complete,
With brighter rays ordained to shine.
  He casts his brown at Jesu’s feet,
And hails Him sitting on the throne,
For ever saved by grace alone.

“Father, to us vouchsafe the grace
  Which brought our friend victorious through;
Let us his shining footsteps trace,
  Let us his steadfast faith pursue,
Follow this follower of the Lamb,
And conquer all through Jesu’s name.

“In vain the Gnostic tempter tried,
  With guile, his upright heart to’ ensnare;
His upright heart the fiend defied:
  No room for sin when Christ was there;
No need of fancied liberty,
When Christ had made him truly free.

“Free from the law of sin and death,
  Free from the Antinomian leaven,
He led his Master’s life beneath,
  And, labouring for the rest of heaven,
By active love, and watchful prayer,
He showed his heart already there.

“How full of heaven his latest word!
  ‘Thou bidd’st me now in peace depart;
For I have known my precious Lord,
  Have clasped Thee, Saviour, in my heart,
My eyes Thy glorious joy have seen,’
He spake, he died, and entered in.”

The principal facts in Hervey’s life have been narrated; and eulogy is not needed. His devout and loving piety has been amply illustrated in the numerous extracts from his letters. In learning, he was inferior to few. His acquaintance with the Latin authors was extensive; and it was one of his peculiarities, when he was called to tea, to bring with him his Hebrew Bible or Greek Testament, and lovingly instruct the members of his family, from the sacred text. His kindness to the poor was only bounded by his means. Private fortune he had none; and, after the payment of his curate, his church emoluments were small; but all the profits arising from the sale of his books,—no inconsiderable sum,—were devoted to the cause of charity; and one of his last directions was, that all future profits should be constantly applied to the same sacred purpose. As the master of a family, his example was worthy of imitation. Twice a day his domestics were summoned for holy worship. At nine every night, he spent about a quarter of an hour in expounding a text of Scripture, and concluded with a prayer. At eight next morning, each of his servants was required to repeat the text of the previous evening, when he gave a summary of his exposition, and again engaged in prayer. As a friend, he was affectionate and faithful. “Though always ill,” said Dr. Stonehouse, “Hervey was always cheerful.” “I am always weak and ill,” he himself remarked; “half dead while I live; yet my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour.” His religion, however, led him to live a life of comparative retirement. The gentlemen of his neighbourhood showed him great respect; but he was seldom among their table guests; observing, “I can hardly name a polite family where the conversation ever turns on the things of God. I hear much frothy chit-chat; but not a word of Christ. And I am determined not to visit those companies where there is not room for my Master as well as for myself.”

His ministerial duties were all performed with the greatest strictness. Few of his sermons have been printed,258 for the simple reason, that, except in outline and in shorthand, few were written; but, in the pulpit, he was always earnest, fervent, and affectionate, and often eloquent. He spake, because he believed and felt. Besides his Sunday preaching, he set up a week-night lecture; catechized the children; and, to the utmost of his ability, visited the homes of his parishioners. “Mr. Hervey,” said the Rev. Henry Venn, “was the most extraordinary man I ever saw.”259 Probably there was a little of extravagance in this gushing eulogy; but there must have been distinguished excellence to prompt such a man as Venn to utter it. In the same way, the rapturous effusions of John Ryland must be received with caution; and likewise not a few of the hyperbolical encomiums of Mr. Brown; but we heartily endorse the judgment of the late Rev. David McNicol:—

“If Seneca is right in placing the praise of goodness above that of greatness, Mr. Hervey has secured to himself, for ages, the noblest kind of estimation. As a man, he was the delight of all who had the happiness to be numbered among his acquaintance. Friendship in him was Christian love, softened with a tenderness peculiar to himself, and placed on a select object; a love accompanied by the most ingenuous confidence, and exercised with unwearied honesty. In every other relation also of the circle in which he moved, he was equally remarkable for his courtesy and virtue.”

Hervey was one of the most godly men of the age in which he lived; and certainly, he was one of the most popular and successful authors. It is a curious fact, that, at least, four of the Oxford Methodists were gifted with poetic genius,—the two Wesleys, Gambold, and Hervey. In early life, Hervey wrote several short poems, some of them beautiful, and sent several of his hymns to his friend Whitefield; but, strangely enough, he ceased to cultivate his talent, from a fear lest his poetry should feed the pride and vanity of his heart. Throughout life, however, his love of nature was that of an enthusiast; and his “Meditations,” especially, to a great extent, are poetry in prose. Devoutly he blesses the Providence of God, for his well-used microscope, which, in the gardens and fields about Weston-Favel, he almost always took with him. He believed and intimated that the discovery of so much of the wisdom, power, and goodness of the great Creator, even in the minutest parts of vegetable and animalcular creation, helped to attune his soul to sing the song of the four-and-twenty elders, “Thou art worthy, O Lord, to receive glory and honour and power; for Thou hast created all things, and for Thy pleasure they are and were created.”

“His character and career,” observes a certain writer, “were a contrast to those of Whitefield and of Wesley. He was essentially contemplative; they were eminently practical. His mission was to sanctify the sentimentalism of the day. In him, the breath of life did not blow, as in Wesley, in a strong, steady, all-pervading current; or, as in Whitefield, like a rushing and resistless wind; but in a gentle zephyr, toying with the tresses of the trees, shaking the petals of the flowers and grasses of the grave, yet the minister of convalescence and the messenger of peace.”

Of course, opinions vary respecting Hervey’s peculiar style; but the fact cannot be denied, that he became one of the most widely-read writers of his time. The young still read his “Meditations” with avidity; and many of the old remember the pleasure that his writings afforded them in their early days. With some degree of appropriateness, he has been designated the Melancthon of the Methodist Reformation. It is quite certain that the elaborated polish of Hervey’s works secured them the attention of the upper circles of society, to a far greater extent than that attention was secured for the writings of Whitefield and Wesley. Hervey avowedly wrote for the élite; Whitefield and Wesley for the masses. Hervey’s style is objectionable to those who cultivate a taste for the simple and chaste, in opposition to what is elaborate and grand; but, somehow, in Hervey’s day, his books, as Whitefield said, “suited the taste of the polite.” May it not be added, that, they also helped to refine the taste of Methodists? The polite read them because they were flowery; the Methodists, because they were savoury; and while, through their medium, the former looked at grace with less prejudice; the latter looked at nature with more delight.

The following, from the North British Review, is, perhaps, as just a critique on Hervey’s writings as can be furnished:—

“Last century was the first in which pious people cared for style. The Puritans had apple-trees in their orchards, and savoury herbs in their kitchen-gardens, but kept no greenhouse, nor parterre; and, amongst evangelical authors, Hervey was about the first who made his style a study, and who sought, by planting flowers at the gate, to allure passengers into the garden. It is not, therefore, surprising that his ornaments should be more distinguished for profusion and brilliant hues than for simplicity and grace. Most people admire tulips and peonies and martegon-lilies, before they get on to love store-cups and mosses and ferns. We used to admire them ourselves, and felt that summer was not fully blown till we saw it sure and certain in these ample and exuberant flowers. Yes, and even now we feel that it would make a warmer June could we love peonies and martegons once more. Hervey was a man of taste equal to his age, and of a warmth and venturesomeness beyond it. He introduced the poetical and picturesque into religious literature, and became the Shenstone of theology. And, although he did what none had dared before him, the world was ready, and his success was rapid. The “Meditations” evangelized the natural sciences, and embowered the old divinity. There was philosophy in its right mind, and at the Saviour’s feet; and the Lutheran dogma relieved from the academic gown, and keeping healthful holiday in shady woods and by the mountain stream. The tendency of his writing was to open the believer’s eye in kindness and wonder on the works of God, and their effort was to attract to the Incarnate Mystery the heart surprised or softened by these works. We cannot, at the distance of a century, recall the fascination which surrounded them when newly published,—when no similar attempts had forestalled their freshness, and no imitations had blown their vigour into bombast. But we can trace their mellow influence still. We see, that, they have helped to make men of faith men of feeling, and men of piety men of taste. Over the bald and rugged places of systematic orthodoxy, they have trained the sweetest beauties of creation and softest graces of piety, and over its entire landscape have shed an illumination as genial as it is growthful and clear. If his ‘Meditations’ be not purely classical, they are evangelical, and singularly adapted to the whole of man. Their cadence is in our popular preaching still, and may their spirit never quit our Christianity! It is the spirit of securest faith, and sunniest hope, and most seraphic love. And though it may be dangerous for young divines, like Samuel Parr, to copy their descriptive melody, it were a blessed ambition to emulate their author’s large and lightsome piety,—his heart, ‘open to the whole noon of nature,’ and through all its brightness drinking the smile of a present God.”

Here Hervey’s Memoir ought to end; but, unfortunately, posthumous facts must be added.

Already, it has been stated, that, the last days of the devout Rector of Weston-Favel were employed in writing his “Eleven Letters” in answer to Wesley’s “Remarks on Theron and Aspasio.” It is extremely disagreeable to tag to the end of a life so beautiful as Hervey’s a controversial fracas which ought never to have happened, but fidelity forbids the unpleasant duty to be avoided. For more than a hundred years, partisans, on both sides, have discussed the question; and, on both sides, not a little has been written which both Hervey and Wesley would wish to have blotted out. It would not be difficult to lengthen the unprofitable controversy by an analysis of Hervey’s “Eleven Letters” (next to his “Theron and Aspasio,” his ablest work), but the task is uninviting, and the subject shall be dismissed as briefly as possible.

Six years after Hervey’s death, his “Eleven Letters” were surreptitiously published, 12mo, 288 pp., without the printer’s name attached, and with nothing but a brief Preface, signed “Philolethes,” who acknowledged that the work now “found its way into the world, as it were, by stealth.” A year afterwards, in 1765, an authentic edition was issued, with the following title—“Eleven Letters from the late Rev. Mr. Hervey, to the Rev. Mr. John Wesley; containing An Answer to that Gentleman’s Remarks on Theron and Aspasio, Published from the Author’s Manuscript, left in the possession of his Brother, Mr. Hervey. With a Preface, showing the Reason of their being now printed.” 12mo, 297 pp.[260]

The Preface states, that, Hervey did not commence his reply to Wesley before Wesley published his private letter to Hervey, in his “Preservative against Unsettled Notions in Religion;” in other words, not until after June 23, 1758. This is an error; for, in a letter to the Rev. Mr. Ryland, dated “January, 1758, Hervey says he was even then ‘transcribing his intended answer to Mr. Wesley for the press’” (see 315 page preceding).

Hervey’s brother, in the Preface, proceeds to say:—

“When, in December, 1758, I was sent for to Weston, I asked him the evening before he died, ‘what he would have done with the Letters to Mr. Wesley, whether he would have them published after his death?’ He answered, ‘By no means, because he had only transcribed about half of them fair for the press; but, as the corrections and alterations of the latter part were mostly in short-hand, it would be difficult to understand them, especially as some of the short-hand was entirely his own, and others could not make it out; therefore, he said, as it is not a finished piece, I desire you will think no more about it.”

Mr. William Hervey adds:—

“As these were the last orders of my brother, I thought it right to obey them, and, therefore, I withstood the repeated solicitations of many of his friends, who wanted to have them printed. Notwithstanding the regard I had for the persons who solicited the publication, I could not be persuaded to print the Letters; and they never had appeared in public, with my consent, had not a surreptitious edition of them lately made its way from the press, and were I not under a firm persuasion that will be followed by more.

“As this is the case, I think it my duty to the memory of my late brother to send forth as correct an edition as I possibly can, for as to that which has appeared (from what editor I know not) it is so faulty and incorrect, that, but little judgment can be formed from it, of the propriety and force of my brother’s answers to Mr. Wesley.

“As to the unfairness of publishing my brother’s Letters without my consent, and the injustice to his memory in sending so mangled a performance out under his name, they are too apparent to need any proof; and though, the editor, as I have been informed, gave away the whole impression, so that it is plain lucre was not the motive of his proceeding, and I would charitably hope he did it with a view of benefiting his readers, yet, it is so like doing evil that good may come, as, in my opinion, to be quite unjustifiable.

“I have one thing more to add, which is concerning the seasonableness of the following publication. It may, perhaps, be thought a needless revival of a dispute, which happened long ago, and which is now probably forgotten. In answer to which, I can assure the reader, that, though my brother died December 25, 1758, the controversy did by no means die with him, but still subsists in the daily publication and sale of Mr. Wesley’s ‘Preservative.’ The controversy is, in the most effectual manner, daily and hourly kept alive by Mr. Wesley himself. This proves very sufficiently the seasonableness, and, as things have happened, the expediency of the present appearance of the following Letters in public.”

Such was the substance of Mr. William Hervey’s explanation or apology.

He says, he knew not who was the editor of the surreptitious edition of his brother’s letters; and, in the absence of counter evidence, he is entitled to belief. It is somewhat staggering, however, that he had been informed, the editor “gave away the whole impression,” without being told the donor’s name; and also, that, as the proprietor of his brother’s manuscript, he must have known in whose hands the manuscript had been placed since his brother’s death. Mr. Cudworth is generally believed to have been the stealthy publisher; but, if he was, he was not alone. Mr. Ryland writes:—

“These letters were just upon the point of being suppressed, and lost to the Christian world for ever. Soon after Mr. Hervey’s death, they were put into my hands for twelve or fourteen weeks. From a principle of foolish and false delicacy I did not take a copy of them, which I ought to have done. Happy for the Church, the manuscript fell into the hands of three of my friends, who had more sincerity, zeal, and courage than I had, and thus the manuscript was rescued from destruction, and the original copy at last brought to light.”

Not many will coincide with Mr. Ryland’s notions “of foolish and false delicacy.” Apart from the question, Hervey versus Wesley, the surreptitious publication of the book was a base, treacherous, nefarious deed. No wonder that the name of the editor was never authoritatively announced.

Mr. William Hervey complains, that, the edition was extremely “faulty and incorrect,” and did not convey an adequate idea “of the propriety and force of his brother’s Answers to Mr. Wesley.” Fair play makes it imperative to say, that, intentionally or otherwise, this is far from being true. Any one who takes the trouble to compare the two editions will perceive, that, except in typographical corrections, the insertion of Hebrew words in Hebrew instead of English characters, the punctuation of sentences, and the addition of a quotation from St. Chrysostom in Greek, the authentic edition hardly differs a hair-breadth from the surreptitious one.

Mr. William Hervey’s last reason, for the publication of his brother’s manuscript, is not without force. Seven years before, Wesley had unwisely printed his “Remarks on Theron and Aspasio” in his “Preservative against Unsettled Notions in Religion.” Notwithstanding Hervey’s death, that book was still on sale; and, thus, Hervey was continuously attacked without being able to answer for himself. Was this fair, and brotherly? Perhaps, it was not enough to justify the avowed violation of Hervey’s dying wish, and absolute command; but does it not somewhat palliate the dishonour of the treacherous act, and, to some extent, relieve William Hervey of the odium which has been cast upon him?

It is undeniable, that, Hervey’s “Letters” contain severe, and apparently bitter recriminations against his old Oxford acquaintance; but did he himself write them? Those, who are the friends of both the combatants, have doubted this, and have, at least, insinuated that their author was William Cudworth, Wesley’s inveterate enemy. This might be so; but it might be otherwise. It is true, that, the taunting reproaches in the “Eleven Letters” are not what might have been reasonably expected from a man of Hervey’s loving and gentle spirit. His other writings are perfectly exempt from bitterness. He seemed incapable of wounding even an enemy, much more one who, in former days at least, had been a friend. Was his the hand, then, that wrote the reproaches in his “Letters”? Defenders regarded Cudworth as the culprit. There cannot be a doubt, that Cudworth was capable of this. He hated Wesley, and his style of writing, when he chose, was trenchant; but, after all, he might be innocent. The “Eleven Letters” were written during the last year of Hervey’s life, when his illness, always serious, was greatly augmented, and not unlikely to affect his spirits. From his letters, already quoted, it is evident, his irritation against Wesley was such, that, he honestly confesses, he found it “no small difficulty to preserve the decency of the gentleman, and the meekness of the Christian in his intended Answer.” Further, though naturally so loving and so gentle, his sensitiveness was excessive. And, once again, it must be borne in mind, that, with one or two exceptions, such as the attack in the Critical Review, his writings had evoked unmingled approbation,—religious, literary, and aristocratic circles all uniting in his praise; and, that this was not adapted to prepare him for the unceremonious animadversions sent to him by Wesley. God forbid! that, we should cast a speck, which does not belong to it, on a character so beautiful; but no man is exempt from errors; and, perhaps, the hints just dropped are worthy of attention.

The results were painful, and, in some respects, disastrous. Wesley himself was exceedingly annoyed. It was one of the great trials of his life. It engendered a polemical warfare which culminated in the great Calvinian controversy of 1770; a controversy which, on one side at least, grew in bitterness until the death of Toplady, in 1778. And, lastly, not to mention other direful effects, by the action of Dr. Erskine, who published Hervey’s “Eleven Letters” in Scotland, and, not only so, but, in his Preface, made a violent attack on Wesley’s doctrines, Methodism, across the Tweed, sustained an injury, not only deep, but of many years’ duration.

It is a painful task to conclude the life of Hervey amid the din of war; but the facts are too important to be entirely omitted. The difference between the two Oxford Methodists was a mournful occurrence. Neither of them was perfect. Both are blamable. It was a misfortune, that, Wesley’s animadversions were written in a style so blunt. It was a mistake in Hervey to allow his excessive sensitiveness to obtain such a mastery as to prevent his writing to his faithful friend for friendly explanation. It was a serious blunder for Wesley to publish his critique in his “Preservative against Unsettled Notions in Religion.” And, finally, though Hervey’s “Letters” are ably written, it was a great calamity, that, he died before he had given them a finishing revision; and it was a huge breach of trust, as well as a grave impertinence, for any one to violate Hervey’s most solemn wish, and to commit to the public press an uncompleted manuscript, whose publication Hervey, in dying accents, had prohibited.