“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]