DEBT AND DILIGENCE—1700–1704.
When Mr Wesley removed to Epworth he turned farmer, and took the
management of his tithes into his own hands. The rector’s domestic
necessities were increasing every year, and it was natural that he
should wish to make his glebe as profitable as he could. To commence
farming, however, was a serious mistake. First of all, Mr Wesley was
without capital to begin; and to attempt to farm without capital, or to
borrow capital and pay large interest for it, is not the way for a poor
man’s prospects to be made better; and then, in the second place, the
great and the good-hearted rector, notwithstanding his genius, his
learning, and his diligence, seems to have had no aptitude for business,
“He is not fit for worldly business,” wrote his brother-in-law, Samuel
Annesley, who had employed him to transact some of his affairs in
England, whilst he was absent in India; to which his wife, Susannah
Wesley, answered:—“This I assent to, and must own I was mistaken when I
thought him fit for business. My own experience hath since convinced me
that he is one of those who, our Saviour saith, are not so wise in their
generation as the children of this world.”
The good man had no knowledge of the farming business; he had no money
to begin it; and, to say the least, his ardent love of books, and his
long-established literary habits, were not friendly to it. It was a
great mistake for the learned and studious rector to turn farmer, and no
wonder that such a step led to debt and serious embarrassment. Perhaps
this is the most fitting place to introduce the letters following, all
of which were written to Archbishop Sharpe:—
EPWORTH, _Dec. 30, 1700_.
“MY LORD,—I have lived on the thought of your Grace’s generous offer
ever since I was at Bishopthorpe, and the hope I have of seeing some
end, or at least mitigation, of my troubles, makes me pass through
them with much more ease than I should otherwise have done. I can now
make a shift to be dunned, with some patience; and to be affronted,
because I want the virtue of riches, by those who scarce think there
is any other virtue.
“I must own, I was ashamed, when at Bishopthorpe, to confess that I
was £300 in debt, when I have a living of which I have made £200 per
annum, though I could hardly let it now for eightscore.
“I doubt not but one reason of my being sunk so far is my not
understanding worldly affairs, and my aversion to law, which my people
have always known but too well. But, I think, I can give a tolerable
account of my affairs, and satisfy any equal judge that a better
husband than myself might have been in debt, though perhaps not so
deeply, had he been in the same circumstances, and met with the same
misfortunes.
“’Twill be no great wonder that, when I had but £50 per annum for six
or seven years together, nothing to begin the world with, one child at
least per annum, and my wife sick for half that time, that I should
run £150 behindhand, especially when about £100 of it had been
expended in goods, without doors and within.
“When I had the rectory of Epworth given me, my Lord of Sarum was so
generous as to pass his word to his goldsmith[148] for £100, which I
borrowed of him. It cost me very little less than £50 of this in my
journey to London, and in getting into my living, for the Broad Seal,
&c.; and with the other £50 I stopped the mouths of my most
importunate creditors.
-----
Footnote 148:
Meaning his banker.
-----
“When I removed to Epworth, I was forced to take up £50 more, for
setting up a little husbandry, when I took the tithes into my own
hand, and for buying some part of what was necessary towards
furnishing my house, which was larger, as well as my family, than what
I had on the other side of the country.
“The next year my barn fell, which cost me £40 in rebuilding, (thanks
to your Grace for part of it;) and, having an aged mother, who must
have gone to prison if I had not assisted her, she cost me upwards of
£40 more, which obliged me to take up another £50. I have had but
three children born since I came hither, about three years since; but
another is coming, and my wife is incapable of any business in my
family, as she has been for almost a quarter of a year; yet we have
but one maid-servant, in order to retrench all possible expenses.
“My first-fruits came to about £28; my tenths are near £3 per annum. I
pay a yearly pension of £3, out of my rectory, to John of Jerusalem.
My taxes came to upwards of £20 per annum, but they are now retrenched
to about half. My collection to the poor comes to £5 per annum;
besides which, they have lately bestowed an apprentice upon me, whom,
I suppose, I must teach to beat rhyme. Ten pounds a year I allow my
mother, to help to keep her from starving. I wish I could give as good
an account for some charities, which I am now satisfied have been
imprudent, considering my circumstances.
“Fifty pounds interest and principal I have paid my Lord of Sarum’s
goldsmith. All which together keeps me necessitous, especially since
interest-money begins to pinch me; and I am always called upon for
money before I make it, and must buy everything at the worst hand;
whereas, could I be so happy as to get on the right side of my income
I should not fear, by God’s help, to live honestly in the world, and
to leave a little to my children after me. I think, as it is, I could
perhaps work it out in time, in half a dozen or half a score years, if
my heart should hold so long; but for that, God’s will be done.
“Humbly asking pardon for this tedious trouble, I am, your Grace’s
most obliged and most humble servant,
“S. WESLEY.”
This is a painfully interesting letter. A few explanations may be
acceptable. He had been put to considerable expense “for the Broad
Seal,” the meaning of which is, that, as the Epworth living belonged to
the Crown, his title to the gift of it required the affixing of the
“Broad Seal,” for which, of course, he had to pay the official fees.
Then, he had to pay £28 for “first-fruits;” £3 for “tenths,” and other
£3 to “John of Jerusalem.” The “first-fruits” were a sort of fine levied
on a clergyman’s first year’s income, when he had the good fortune to be
promoted, the money being paid to the Government. The “tenths” were a
tax paid to the Crown _every_ year. The £3 paid to John of Jerusalem was
an impost of the same description. Down to a certain period, a number of
churches in England were obliged to pay toll to the Priory of St John of
Jerusalem; but, at the suppression of the monasteries, all the
emoluments of this priory were given to the king, and, as the rectory of
Epworth had been accustomed to pay to the value of £3 per annum to that
house, this was the sum which the kings of England continued to receive
from Epworth rectory.
He had been obliged to take a parish apprentice. At that period, and for
a long time after, it was customary for parochial officers to relieve
themselves, of the burden of maintaining the children of their paupers,
by compelling the parishioners, in rotation, to take such children as
apprentices, and to teach them their respective trades. One of these
youngsters had been forced upon the poor rector, and, as he had no trade
to teach him, he playfully proposes to instruct him in the unprofitable
business of making poetry, to which he himself had been so long
addicted.
His aged mother was still living, but was crushed with poverty, and had
been in danger of imprisonment for debt. For about thirty years she had
been a lonely widow, and seems to have been dependent upon her son
Samuel’s £10 per annum for her daily bread. The question naturally
occurs, Was the poor rector the only one willing to assist his mother?
Was nothing done for her by her son Matthew? Matthew rose to
considerable eminence in the medical profession, and had an extensive
and profitable practice in London. Thirty years after the period of
which we are now writing, when he visited the Epworth family, he is
represented as a man of wealth, and yet where is the evidence that he
helped to support his mother? Matthew Wesley is described by his niece
Mehetabel as one of the gentlest of human beings, and as rescuing
thousands from the grave by his healing skill. He was of sufficient
eminence to have his death celebrated in the poetical department of the
_Gentleman’s Magazine_ for 1737; but, excepting a little kindness shown
to one or two of his brother’s children, we are left without evidence
that he possessed any of that nobility of heart, which prompted the
embarrassed rector to squeeze out of his scanty income the pittance
which he yearly gave to his much-loved mother.
Samuel Wesley’s attachment to the Established Church was conscientious
and strong; otherwise there was enough in his mother’s history to have
made him its enemy for ever. By the relentless and intolerant bigotry of
that Church, her husband had been deprived of the means of sustaining
his family, and had been persecuted and driven from place to place, and
not allowed the opportunity of providing for either his wife or his
children. By the same Church’s intolerance, he had been brought to an
untimely grave; and his widow, for long, long years, had been struggling
with abject poverty. Her son Samuel knew all this; and yet,
notwithstanding his having been trained for the Dissenting ministry, he
entered the very Church which had inflicted so much misery upon his
father, and which, to the day of her death, made Dr Thomas Fuller’s
niece, Samuel Wesley’s mother, a needy object of charity and alms.
Nothing but conscientious conviction of duty, could have induced such a
man to attach himself to such a Church.
Samuel Wesley was most distressingly embarrassed; but his embarrassments
were not the results of wasteful or extravagant living. For about eleven
years he had been a married minister of the Church of England. His
professional income, for that entire period—after deducting the payments
mentioned in the foregoing letter, for furniture, the Broad Seal, his
first-fruits, his tenths and other taxes, the poor, his mother’s debt,
and also including the £50 borrowed for farming purposes—did not amount
to more than £600, which gives an average of £54, 10s. a-year, or twenty
shillings and ninepence per week. Out of that amount of money, he had to
maintain house, to find food and clothes for himself and for his wife;
he had to meet the expenses connected with the birth of ten children,
and the burial of five; and he had now a family to support, consisting
of himself, his wife, five children, a maid-servant, and a parish
apprentice-nine persons altogether. Samuel Wesley, after eleven years of
hard struggling, was £300 in debt. No wonder! Let the reader look at the
preceding figures and facts, and his surprise will be, not that the debt
was so great, but that it was not greater. Many Methodists have a vague
idea that the rector of Epworth was careless and improvident in the
management of his pecuniary matters, and that this was the cause of his
embarrassments; but to entertain such a thought is a cruel injustice
done to the character of that distinguished man, and also an undeserved
stigma cast upon the reputation of his invaluable wife. Let any one
think of a clergyman of the Church of England having to maintain a
large, and often an afflicted family, for eleven years, at the rate of
two shillings and elevenpence-halfpenny per day, and we challenge him to
deny that Samuel Wesley, now £300 in debt, was deserving not of censure,
but of sympathy.
Archbishop Sharpe, to whom Wesley’s letter was addressed, was an
exceedingly kind and faithful friend. He submitted the painful
circumstances of the poor rector to a number of his noble friends, some
of whom generously responded, the Countess of Northampton sending him
£20. The archbishop also wished to make an application to the House of
Lords for what was technically called a “Brief;” in other words, a
“letter patent, granting a licence for collecting money to rebuild
churches, to restore loss by fire,” &c. These “briefs,” or letters
patent were read in churches, and the sums collected were endorsed on
them, with the signatures of the minister and churchwarden; after which
the briefs and the money collected were delivered to the person or
persons obtaining the briefs, who in their turn had to give an account,
within two months, of the moneys received, before a master in Chancery
appointed by the Lord Chancellor.
The proposal, then, of the Archbishop of York was, to obtain from
Parliament one of these letters patent, authorising and commanding
collections to be made in certain churches, for the purpose of relieving
the distresses of the rector of Epworth. The feeling which prompted this
was unquestionably kind, but perhaps it was scarce considerate. To a
high-minded and sensitive man like Samuel Wesley, it could not be
otherwise than disagreeable to have his domestic troubles and financial
embarrassments paraded, first before Parliament, and afterwards in
parish churches, for the purpose of obtaining collections to pay some
£300 of debt, and perhaps to furnish a trifling surplus to repair
Epworth parsonage, and to improve Epworth parish church. At the present
day, such a mode of raising money for such purposes would be universally
denounced; and in the case of Samuel Wesley, one hundred and sixty-five
years ago, such a plan ought never to have been propounded. It was
doubtless a duty to assist the impoverished parson, but the assistance
ought to have been, not public, but private. Dr Clarke asserts that the
archbishop actually applied to the Upper House of Parliament for such a
brief. Be that as it may, we find Samuel Wesley disapproving of the
proposal in the following letter, which was written four months and a
half after his former one:—
“EPWORTH, _May 14, 1701_.
“MY LORD,—In the first place, I do, as I am bound, heartily thank God
for raising me so great and generous a benefactor as your Grace, when
I so little expected or deserved it.
“And then, to return my poor thanks to your lordship, though but a
sorry acknowledgment, yet all I have, for the pains and trouble you
have taken on my account. I most humbly thank your Grace that you did
not close with the motion which you mentioned in your Grace’s first
letter; for I should rather chose to remain all my life in my present
circumstances, than so much as consent that your lordship should do
any such thing. Nor, indeed, should I be willing on my own account to
trouble the House of Lords in the method proposed, for I believe
_mine_ would be the first instance of a brief _for losses by
child-bearing_ that ever came before that honourable house.
“Had your Grace been able to have effected nothing for me, the
generosity and goodness had been the same; and I should have prayed
for as great a heap of blessings on your Grace and your family. This
is all I can do now, when I have such considerable assistance by your
Grace’s charitable endeavours. When I received your Grace’s first
letter, I thanked God upon my knees for it. I have done the same, I
believe, twenty times since, as often as I have read it; and more than
once for the other, which I received but yesterday.
“Certainly, never did an archbishop of England write in such a manner
to an isle poet; but it is peculiar to your Grace to oblige so as none
besides can do it. I know your Grace will be angry, but I cannot help
it; truth will out, though in a plain and rough dress; and I should
sin against God if I now neglected to make all the poor
acknowledgments I am able.”
He then proceeds to mention the great kindness of the Countess of
Northampton, and says he must divide what she has given him,—“half to my
poor mother, with whom I am now above a year behindhand; the other £10
for my own family. My mother will wait on your Grace for her £10: she
knows not the particulars of my circumstances, which I keep from her as
much as I can, that they may not trouble her.”
Very beautiful are sentiments like these; and great must have been the
anguish of that sensitive and noble heart that had to struggle with such
adversities.
Four days after the foregoing letter was written, it was followed by
another and shorter one, strikingly characteristic of the playfulness as
well as gratitude of the writer’s nature:—
“EPWORTH, _May 18, 1701_.
“MY LORD,—This comes as a rider to the last, by the same post, to
bring such news as, I presume, will not be unwelcome to a person who
has so particular a concern for me. Last night my wife brought me a
_few_ children. There are but _two_ yet, a boy and a girl, and I think
they are all at present. We have had four in two years and a day,
three of which are living.
“Never came anything more like a gift from Heaven than what the
Countess of Northampton sent by your lordship’s charitable offices.
Wednesday evening my wife and I clubbed and joined stocks, which came
but to _six shillings_, to send for coals. Thursday morning I received
the £10; and at night my wife was delivered. Glory be to God for His
unspeakable goodness!—I am, your Grace’s most obliged, and most humble
servant,
“S. WESLEY.”
Archbishop Sharpe, to whom these three letters were addressed, was born
at Bradford, Yorkshire, in 1644. He was educated at Christ College,
Cambridge, and for five years was private tutor to the four sons of Sir
Heneage Finch, who afterwards became Lord Chancellor. In 1677, Sharpe
became rector of St Giles’s, and had among his parishioners the
celebrated Richard Baxter, who was a constant hearer of the rector every
Sunday morning, and was consulted about his marriage. These two
excellent men, notwithstanding their minor differences, lived together
on the most friendly terms. In 1681, Sharpe was promoted to the deanery
of Norwich. On the accession of King James, he preached so much against
Popery, that he excited the royal displeasure, was obliged to leave St
Giles’s, and to reside altogether at his deanery. In 1689, he succeeded
Tillotson as Dean of Canterbury, and was nominated one of the
commissioners for revising the liturgy. In 1691, he was consecrated
Archbishop of York, and discharged the duties of his high office with
great fidelity until his death, which occurred at Bath in 1714. He
preached repeatedly before King William and Queen Mary. Some of these
sermons are now before us, and display great ability and earnest piety.
He delivered the sermon preached at the coronation of Queen Anne. His
favourite studies, in his youthful days, were botany and chemistry. He
was chaplain to King Charles and to King James. He was greatly esteemed
by King William, and, in the reign of Queen Anne, the greatest attention
was always paid to his advices. Dr Sharpe, says Bishop Burnet, was a
very pious man, and one of the most popular preachers of the age. Sharpe
left behind him seven volumes of sermons.[149] He was the grandfather of
the celebrated Granville Sharpe, the distinguished philanthropist and
the friend of slaves. A remarkable anecdote of the archbishop was
inserted by John Wesley in the _Arminian Magazine_ for 1785.
-----
Footnote 149:
Newcombe’s _Life of Sharpe_.
-----
In the midst of all his pecuniary struggles, Samuel Wesley continued to
write and to publish books. In 1700, he issued a small volume, entitled,
“The Pious Communicant Rightly Prepared; or, A Discourse concerning the
Blessed Sacrament: wherein the nature of it is described, our obligation
to frequent communion enforced, and directions given for due preparation
for it, behaviour at and after it, and profiting by it. With Prayers and
Hymns suited to the several parts of that Holy Office. To which is
added, A Short Discourse of Baptism. By Samuel Wesley, A.M., Chaplain to
the Most Honourable John, Lord Marquis of Normanby, and Rector of
Epworth, in the diocese of Lincoln. London: Printed for Charles Harper.
1700.”
This long title almost renders a description of the book unnecessary.
The book, however, besides what is described in the title-page, contains
as an appendix the “Letter concerning the Religious Societies,” from
which quotations have been already made, and altogether consists of two
hundred and ninety-three pages 12mo. A few extracts may be useful, as
illustrating the writer’s opinions, and his mode of expressing them.
Speaking of the doctrine of transubstantiation, he says:—“It overthrows
the very nature of a sacrament, and leaves nothing for an outward sign;
it introduces the most monstrous absurdities, which, if granted, would
render the Christian religion the most absurd and most unreasonable in
the world; it involves the most horrid, as well as most ridiculous
consequences, such as that our Saviour did eat His own body, and gave it
to His disciples to eat; it makes Christians the worst cannibals to eat
their God a thousand times over; and it contradicts the very nature of a
body, which cannot be in two places at the same time, much less in earth
and in heaven,” (p. 19 and 20.)
On the subject of baptism, he writes:—“In baptism, we are so far
regenerate as to be grafted into the body of Christ’s Church, and to
partake of its privileges by the operation of His Holy Spirit within us,
who will never be wanting to us or forsake us, unless we ourselves put a
bar to the divine assistance by confirmed evil habits, and by a wicked
life. But since the divine image, which we there recovered, is very
often obscured again by the temptations of the world and the devil, and
the remains of sin within us, there is need enough for our being renewed
again by repentance; nor has God here left us without hope or comfort,
but has appointed a remedy even for those who sin after baptism, and
that is this other sacrament of the body and blood of the Lord, wherein
we renew our covenant with Him, and receive new strength to obey His
commands,” (p. 37.)
In another place he writes:—“We say not that regeneration is always
_completed_ in baptism, but that it is begun in it; a principle of grace
is infused, which we lost by the fall, which shall never be wholly
withdrawn, unless we quench God’s Holy Spirit by obstinate habits of
wickedness. There are _babes_ as well as _strong men_ in Christ,” (p.
205.)
The same view of baptism was substantially held by his son John. The
latter, in his sermon on the New Birth, observes:—“It is certain our
Church supposes that all who are baptized in their infancy are, at the
same time, born again; and it is allowed that the whole office for the
baptism of infants proceeds upon this supposition. Nor is it an
objection of any weight against this, that we cannot comprehend how this
work can be wrought in infants. For neither can we comprehend how it is
wrought in a person of riper years.”[150]
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Footnote 150:
Wesley’s _Works_, vol. vi. p. 69.
-----
It is no part of our task either to justify or condemn these opinions;
but, perhaps, the following extract from an article, probably written by
Samuel Wesley, and inserted in the _Athenian Oracle_, (vol. i., p. 457,)
may with some find more favour, though there is nothing in it
antagonistic to the other opinions of Samuel Wesley already given.
“Baptism is called by the apostle ‘the laver of regeneration,’ and
accordingly our Church, not only lawfully, but commendably, uses the
word regeneration for baptism; and, in the offices for that sacrament,
more than once mentions the child’s being regenerate, which it explains
by its being grafted into the body of Christ’s Church, and so admitted
into the communion of saints. Children have then a federal holiness as
children of believing parents; and, as the first-born among the Jews
were dedicate, devoted, or holy in the Lord, so in that sense children
of believing parents are holy—in that sense they are regenerate.”
It is a remarkable fact, not generally known, that John Wesley’s
“Treatise on Baptism,” published in the tenth volume of his collected
works, and dated November 11, 1756, is nothing less or more than his
father’s “Short Discourse of Baptism,” published fifty-six years before.
It is true that the son has very _slightly_ abridged and verbally
altered his father’s essay, but that is all. He thus makes all the
opinions of his father, on baptism, his own; but it is somewhat strange
that he should republish the treatise without the least reference to its
original author. It is hardly fair that the treatise should be published
as his own. In more respects than one, John Wesley was a courageous man.
In the same year in which Samuel Wesley published his “Pious
Communicant,” he also gave to the public a poem, entitled, “An Epistle
to a Friend concerning Poetry, by Samuel Wesley. London: Printed for
Charles Harper, 1700.” The poem is a folio of thirty pages, and consists
of 1083 lines.
The preface is an earnest—almost furious—production, stating his design,
and dwelling on the strong tendency to infidel principles evinced by
some of the chief literary men then living. He writes:—“The direct
design of a great part of this poem is to serve the cause of religion
and virtue. My quarrel is with those that rank themselves among
atheists, and impudently defend and propagate the ridiculous opinion of
the eternity of the world, and of that fatal, invincible chain of things
which is now made use of to destroy the faith, as our lewd plays are to
corrupt the morals, of the nation;—an opinion big with more absurdities
than transubstantiation itself, and of far more fatal consequences.
Besides weakening, if not destroying, the belief of the being and
providence of God, it utterly takes away freedom in human actions,
reduces mankind beneath the brute creation, perfectly excuses the
greatest villainies, and entirely vacates all retribution hereafter. One
would wonder with what face or conscience such a set of men should hope
to be treated by the rules of civility, when they themselves break
through those of common humanity. How can they expect any fairer quarter
than wolves or tigers; or, what reason can they give why a price should
not be set upon their heads as well as on the others; or, at least, why
they should not be securely hampered and muzzled, and led about for a
sight like other monsters? It is the fatal and spreading poison of these
men’s principles and example which has extorted these warm expressions
from me. I cannot with patience see my country ruined by the prodigious
increase of infidelity and immorality, nor forbear crying out, with some
vehemence, when it is in greater and more imminent danger than it would
have been formerly if the Spanish Armada had made a descent among us. If
things go on as they now are, we are in a fair way to become a nation of
atheists. It is now no difficult matter to meet with those who pretend
to be lewd on principle. They attack religion in form, and batter it
from every quarter; they would turn the very Scriptures against
themselves, and labour hard to remove a Supreme Being out of the world;
or, if they do vouchsafe Him any room in it, it is only that they may
find fault with His works, which they think, with that blasphemer of
old, might have been much better ordered had they themselves stood by
and directed the architect.
“What would these men have? Why cannot they be content to sink single
into the bottomless pit without dragging so much company with them? Can
they grapple with Omnipotence? Can they thunder with a voice like God,
and cast abroad the rage of their wrath? Could they annihilate hell they
might be tolerably happy, more quietly rake through the world, and sink
into nothing.
“There is too great reason to apprehend that this infection is spread
among persons of almost all ranks, though some may think it decent still
to keep on a religious masque. This is hypocrisy with a witness, the
basest and meanest of vices. The cowards will not believe a God, because
they dare not; for woe be to them if there be one, and consequently any
future punishment! From such as these I desire no favour, but that of
their ill word; as their crimes must expect none from me. If I could be
ambitious of a name in the world, it should be that I might sacrifice it
in so glorious a cause as that of religion and virtue. If none but
generals must fight in this sacred war, when there are such infernal
hosts on the other side, they could never prevail without one of the
ancient miracles. If little people can but discharge the place of a
private sentinel, it is all that is expected from us. I hope I shall
never let the enemies of God and my country come on without firing,
though it serve but to give the alarm; and, if I die without quitting my
post, I desire no greater glory. I have no personal pique against any
whose characters I may have given in this poem, nor think the worse of
them for their thoughts of me. I hope I have everywhere done them
justice, and have given them commendation where they merit it.”
This is strong language respecting the chief writers of the day; but it
was not unneeded. It is true, that, there were honourable
exceptions—such as Addison, who was now enjoying his pension of £300 a
year for his complimentary poem on one of the campaigns of King William;
Sir Richard Steele, who was writing his “Christian Hero;” Dean Swift,
who, having published his poetical essays, was now pondering his “Tale
of a Tub;” Pope, who, as a boy twelve years old, was writing, in Windsor
Forest, his “Ode on Solitude;” Parnell, who was just made M.A., and
ordained a deacon; and Edward Young, who was now completing the first
part of his education at Winchester. Of these and others we say nothing;
but contemporaneous with them were William Wycherley, who attacked vice,
it is true, but attacked it with the severity of a cynic, and the
language of a libertine; Matthew Prior, who, notwithstanding his poetic
fame, cohabited with a despicable drab of the lowest kind; William
Congreve, “the ultimate effect of whose plays,” says Dr Johnson, “is to
represent pleasure in alliance with vice, and to relax those obligations
by which life ought to be regulated;” Lord Bolingbroke, whom Johnson
designated “a scoundrel, who charged a pop-gun against Christianity; and
a coward, who left half-a-crown to a beggarly Scotchman (David Mallet)
to fire it off;” Anthony Collins, the infidel, who, notwithstanding his
abilities as a writer, was detected in so many instances of false
quotations, and other unfair modes of controversy, that he must ever be
regarded as one of the most flagrant instances of literary
disingenuousness; Matthew Tindall, some of whose infidel productions
were, by a vote of the House of Commons, ordered to be burned by the
common hangman; John Toland, the “miserable sophist,” as Swift calls
him, whose sceptical writings were ordered to be burned by the Irish
Parliament, and who discussed the mysteries of Christianity in
coffee-houses and other public places, until at last he wanted a meal of
meat, and fell to borrowing a few pence from any one that would lend to
him; and John Dryden, with his sometimes Popish, and sometimes
latitudinarian creed—a man of splendid talents, but whose writings,
while flashing with the highest genius, are often soaked and loathsome
with the foulest vice.
Macaulay, in reference to a period a few years earlier, writes:—“The
profligacy of the English plays, satires, songs, and novels of that age
is a deep blot on our national fame. The evil may easily be traced to
its source. The wits and the Puritans had never been on friendly terms.
From the Reformation to the civil war, almost every writer had taken
some opportunity of assailing the straight-haired, snuffling, whining
saints, who christened their children out of the Book of Nehemiah, who
groaned in the spirit at the sight of Jack in the Green, and who thought
it impious to taste plum-porridge on Christmas-day. At length a time
came when the laughers began to look grave in their turn. The rigid,
ungainly zealots, after having furnished much good sport during two
generations, rose up in arms, conquered, ruled, and, grimly smiling,
trod down under their feet the whole crowd of mockers. At the
Restoration the old fight recommenced, and the war between wit and
Puritanism soon became a war between wit and morality. Whatever the
canting Roundhead had regarded with reverence was insulted; whatever he
had proscribed, was favoured. As he never opened his mouth except in
Scriptural phrase, the new breed of wits and fine gentlemen never opened
theirs without uttering ribaldry of which a porter would now be ashamed.
It is not strange, therefore, that our polite literature, when it
revived with the old civil and ecclesiastical polity, should have been
profoundly immoral. A few eminent men, who belonged to an earlier and
better age, were exempt from the general contagion. The verse of Waller
still breathed the sentiments which had animated a more chivalrous
generation. Cowley, distinguished as a loyalist and as a man of letters,
raised his voice courageously against the immorality which disgraced
both letters and loyalty. A mightier poet, tried at once by pain,
danger, poverty, obloquy, and blindness, meditated, undisturbed by the
obscene tumult which raged all around him, a song so sublime and so holy
that it would not have misbecome the lips of those etherial virtues whom
he saw, with that inner eye which no calamity could darken, flinging
down on the jasper pavement their crowns of amaranth and gold. But these
were men whose minds had been trained in a world which had passed away.
They gave place to a younger generation of wits; and of that generation,
from Dryden down to D’Urfey, the common characteristic was hard-hearted,
shameless, swaggering licentiousness, at once inelegant and inhuman.”
Samuel Wesley’s “Epistle concerning Poetry” is ingenious and able. The
editor of Dr Adam Clarke’s Miscellaneous Works observes: “Such a poem as
this may be supposed to have suggested Lord Byron’s ‘English Bards and
Scotch Reviewers.’” We would add, that perhaps it suggested a much
earlier work, the “Dunciad” of Alexander Pope, which was first published
in 1727, twenty-seven years after the publication of Wesley’s “Epistle.”
At all events, both Pope and Byron would have acted better if, like
Samuel Wesley, they had been guided by justice, instead of being goaded
by spleen, and if their works, like his, had contained more of criticism
and less of spite.
It is difficult, without giving extracts, to furnish a just idea of Mr
Wesley’s poem. The following are some of the topics that are taken up
and sketched—viz., Genius, Wit, Judgment, Invention, Memory, Learning,
Conversation, Style, Reading, Measure, Numbers, Pauses, Quantity, Rhyme,
Epic poetry, Tragedy, the Ode, and Satire. In dwelling on these points,
Wesley takes the opportunity of referring to the most popular writers of
poetry to illustrate his meaning. Chaucer’s lines are so rough and so
unequal in their flow, that to describe their _measure_ is impossible.
Spencer, with his “vast genius” and “noble thoughts,” is a master of
English _quantity_; but his stanzas are cramped, and his _rhymes_
affected by antique words. Dryden, with his “matchless skill,” is highly
praised; but, at the same time, Wesley charges him with having “made
vice pleasing, and damnation shine;” and entreats him, after “sixty
years of lewdness,” to repent and seek God’s forgiveness. Blackmore is
eulogised by Wesley, at the time when all the wits were treating him
with ridicule; for few excelled him in writing poetic fables, and each
of his pages is “big with Virgil’s manly thought.” But, instead of
giving quotations descriptive of men, we give the following, which, to
say the least, is thoughtful and ingenious. The reader will perceive
that the lines are intended to be a description of the human head:—
“A cave there is, wherein those nymphs reside,
Who all the realms of sense and fancy guide;
Nay, some affirm, that in the deepest cell
Imperial Reason’s self does not disdain to dwell.
With living reed it’s thatch’d and guarded round,
Which, moved by winds, emit a silver sound.
Two crystal fountains near its entrance play,
Wide scattering golden beams, which ne’er decay;
Two labyrinths behind, harmonious sounds convey.
Chiefly, within, the room of state is famed,
Of rich Mosaic work divinely framed;
Of small extent to view, ’twill all things hide;
Heaven’s azure arch itself not half so wide.
Here all the arts their sacred mansion choose,
Here dwells the mother of the heaven-born muse,
With wondrous mystic figures round ’tis wrought,
Inlaid with fancy and anneal’d with thought.
What was, or is, or labours yet to be,
Within the womb of dark futurity,
May stowage in this wondrous storehouse find,
Yet leave unnumber’d empty cells behind.
Whate’er within this sacred hall you find,
Let judgment sort, and skilful method bind;
And as from these you draw your ancient store,
Daily supply the magazine with more.”—(Page 3.)
No sooner was the “Epistle concerning Poetry” out of hand, than Samuel
Wesley devoted himself to a much larger poetic work, entitled “The
History of the Old and New Testament, attempted in Verse, and adorned
with three hundred and thirty Sculptures. Written by S. Wesley, A.M.;
the Cuts done by J. Sturt. London: Printed for C. Harper.”
Dr Clarke says the first edition of this work was published in 1701; but
the earliest edition with which the writer is acquainted was published
in 1704, and is in three volumes, of about three hundred and fifty pages
each. Another edition was published in 1717, and was dedicated to “the
Most Honourable the Lady Marchioness of Normanby;”—a lady “ennobled by
birth, beauty, and fortune, but more by piety and virtue.”
In his preface to the reader, he says: “I have but little to say
concerning this small present which I here make thee. It is some account
of the intervals of my time, which I wish had never been worse employed.
There are some passages here represented which are so barren of
circumstances, that it was not easy to make them shine in verse; though
they could not be well omitted without breaking the thread of the
history. But there are others where I have more liberty, wherein it is
my own fault if I have not succeeded better. On the whole, if aught that
is here may be useful to any good Christian, and tend to promote piety,
I shall be better pleased than if I could have composed a book on any
other subject worthy to be dedicated in the Vatican; for I hope I am got
on the right side of the world, and am as indifferent to it as it can be
to me.”
The engravings, or “Sculptures,” as the rector calls them, are small,
but full of genius. John Sturt, the artist, was born in 1658, and died
in 1730. He is celebrated principally for the extraordinary minuteness
and beauty of his engraved writing. He engraved the Lord’s Prayer in the
compass of a silver penny, and an Elegy on Queen Mary in so small a size
that it might be set in a ring or locket. His most curious work,
however, is the “Book of Common Prayer,” which he engraved with
marvellous neatness on one hundred and eighty-eight silver plates, in
double columns. Prefixed is a portrait of King George I., the lines on
the king’s face being made by an inscription of the Lord’s Prayer, the
Decalogue, the Creed, the Prayers for the Royal Family, and the 21st
Psalm, all in writing so minute as scarcely to be read with the aid of a
microscope. This remarkable work was published by subscription in 1717;
and about the same time another of his productions was similarly issued,
“A Companion to the Altar,” executed in the same ingenious manner. The
poor artist, like the poor rector, was beset with poverty all his days.
In his old age, he was offered an asylum in the Charter-House, but
respectfully declined accepting it. Such was the man who engraved the
“three hundred and thirty sculptures” which adorn and illustrate Samuel
Wesley’s “History of the Old and New Testaments.”
This work of Wesley, like his Life of Christ, is permanently injured by
the hastiness in which it was evidently written, and by the unfinished
state of many of its lines; but, at the same time, it contains scores of
passages worthy of Wesley’s great genius. To enable the reader to form
an opinion of the book’s excellencies and faults, we subjoin a few
random extracts, taking four from the Old Testament and four from the
New.
After describing Moses and his flock at Horeb, Wesley writes:—
“As he the sylvan scene with pleasure views,
By gentle motion dress’d in various hues,
A hollow wind comes whispering through the leaves;
The solid rock with dire convulsions cleaves;
The largest bush, and fairer than the rest,
He saw in harmless flames, and lambent lightnings dress’d.
Though strange, though wondrous strange the sight appear,
He to the burning bush approaches near;
When from the flames a voice like thunder broke,
And Moses in these awful words bespoke:
‘Thy sandals quickly loose, bold mortal, and retire;
This place is holy ground, and God is in the fire!’”
The lines following refer to the giving of the ten commandments:—
“Hark! how insufferable thunders tear
Both earth and heaven! while forky lightnings glare!
Trembles the camp; the solid mountain shakes;
The earth, beneath it, to the centre quakes—
The Lord descends, the Thunderer’s voice is known!
And holy myriads stand around his throne.
The ten dread words from Sinai he recites,
Which his own hands in marble tables writes;
Great Nature’s transcript, and eternal law,
Whence future sages shall their models draw;
Wise Greece and haughty Rome are here surpass’d,
Each word, each tittle here, shall earth and heaven outlast.”
The next extract is taken from the piece describing the pestilence,
which was sent on account of David numbering the people. David having
laid aside his crown, clothes himself in sackcloth, puts ashes on his
head, falls prostrate on the ground and begins to pray:—
“Mild Pity heard, and prostrate at the throne
Presents his prayers, and added of her own;
The Father smiles and grants; she shoots away
Beyond the confines of eternal day;
On her own peaceful rainbow swerving down,
She stands confess’d above the sacred town;
Seizes the destroying angel’s flaming brand,
Seals in its sheath, and stops his lifted hand.”
The next lines are descriptive of the angel destroying the one hundred
and eighty-five thousand Assyrians:—
“Lo! from heaven the avenging angel came,
His sword the pestilence’s deadly flame;
Incumbent o’er the deadly camp he flies;
So glares an angry comet in the skies.
A vial of almighty wrath he bore,
And, crashing, broke, like burst of thunder’s roar—
Oh, what a groan! as Nature’s self expired,
Or all this habitable mansion fired—
Awaked by dying shrieks the warriors rose,
And all in vain their spacious shields oppose:
Some swear, some pray, but both alike in vain,
And heaps of myriads lie on myriads slain.
Averse at length, and slow the morning rose,
But what a scene its sickly beams disclose!
’Twas horror, horror all—the plague was kind—
Paler than death were those it left behind.”
The following is Wesley’s description of Christ rebuking the tempest on
the Lake of Gennesaret:—
“He rose unmoved, for all within was peace,
Chid the mad waves, and bid their tumults cease;
Rebuked the winds, which soon forgot to roar,
And all the murm’ring billows kiss’d the shore.”
The piece entitled “Jesus in the Manger visited by the Shepherds,” is as
follows:—
“With joy and wonder fill’d, the shepherds run
At early dawn, to seek a brighter sun
Than e’er before enlighten’d mortal eyes;
But oh! astonish’d heavens! see where He lies!
That voice, which shakes the poles, to infant cries
Is now contracted;—those Almighty hands
Which launch th’ unerring thunder, wrapt in feeble bands;
And He, who turn’d the shining orbs above,
Which, as His nod prescribes ’em, stand or move;
When He comes down our ruin’d world to save,
Is shelter’d in a stable, and a cave.”
The following is from a piece entitled, “Signs of the Coming of the Son
of man in Glory:”—
“Rumours of war the guilty world affright;
Prodigious signs, and many a fearful sight
Glare in the heavens; bright suns to darkness turn,
And moons and stars, all clothed in sackcloth, mourn—
Well may the earth with horrid murmurs quake,
When even the powers of Heaven themselves shall shake.
With fervent heat the elements shall flow,
Yon azure vault with ruddy vengeance glow;
Then when the guilty world dissolves for fear,
Then shall you see the Son of Man appear;
Amidst the clouds, the world’s great Judge confess’d,
Circled with glitt’ring hosts, and myriads of the bless’d.”
We conclude with an extract from the last poem in the book, “The
Description of the Heavenly Jerusalem:”—
“Of pearls those everlasting gates are made,
Of precious stones the firm foundation’s laid;
The walls of jasper, wondrous to behold,
The city flames with pure ethereal gold;
Through its broad streets a lovely river glides,
It in the midst, with crystal streams, divides
No solar lamp, or moon’s officious ray,
No twinkling stars to make a fainter day;
No useless flambeau there, but from the throne
A radiant blaze of light profusely shone.
Here pious souls shall blissful seats obtain,
With God, and with the Lamb, to endless ages reign.”
These extracts are given, first, because the book itself is extremely
scarce, and not one Methodist in a thousand has ever seen it; and,
secondly, as a sort of rebuke to the slap-dash and too sweeping censure
pronounced against it in Nicholl’s Literary Anecdotes, namely, that it
is “mere pap, or milk and water.” Those three volumes are not the best
that Mr Wesley published; but they are better far than scores of similar
productions that have had the good fortune to be read, and therefore to
be praised.
To say the least, every one must admire the unwearied diligence of this
impoverished man. He had a large and increasing family, and was £300 in
debt; but, instead of sinking under discouragement, he bravely breasts
his trials, and, by eagerly seizing those scraps of time which devotion
to his clerical duties did not require, he tried to free himself from
his distressing embarrassments by writing and publishing, within two
short years, four good-sized volumes, besides his “Epistle on Poetry,”
consisting of nearly eleven hundred lines.