Mr. Romaine--Lectureship at St. Dunstan’s--Lord
Mansfield--Darkness Visible--The Bishop of Peterborough--Popular
Election--St. Ann’s, Blackfriars--Probation
Sermon--Contest--Canvassing--Scrutiny--Second Election--Suit
in Chancery--Gratitude of Lady Huntingdon--Mr. Jesse--Mr.
Shirley--Mr. Romaine’s Views of his Preferment--Lewes--Lady
Huntingdon procures an opening for Mr. Romaine, for Mr.
Madan, and Mr. Fletcher--The Oratorio--Musical Taste of Mr.
Madan and Dr. Haweis--Lady Huntingdon’s Chapel at Lewes
opened--and re-opened--Mr. Mason; his Work on the Catechism--Mr.
Edwards, of Ipswich--Mr. Berridge and his Bees--Southey’s
Reflections--Their Refutation--Character of Berridge; his Wit;
his Labours--Berridge and the Bishop.
At the beginning of the year 1764, Mr. Romaine was preaching at
Brighton. He was now a married man, and blessed with a family, yet his
provision from the church amounted to no more than _eighteen pounds
a year_--such was the value of his only preferment, the lectureship
of St. Dunstan’s. But he was chaplain to Lady Huntingdon, and had many
pious friends, who proved, in his case, that they had pondered on the
saying, “They who minister at the altar shall live by the altar.” He
was besides singularly abstemious--a grace of poverty which secured
to him the riches of confirmed and continued health throughout a
long career of usefulness. Even the paltry pittance we have named
he was not suffered to enjoy. As at St. George’s, Hanover-square,
so at St. Dunstan’s, his preaching offended the rector, who always
took possession of the pulpit before the Liturgy was read through, to
prevent Mr. Romaine from preaching. He appealed to the law, and Lord
Mansfield decided that he could not be excluded from the pulpit: yet
the loose decision of the judge enabled the opposite party to keep the
church closed to the very latest moment, which they failed not to
do, while thousands congregated in the street, and no sooner were the
doors opened than they rushed in, to the great peril of each other’s
lives. The churchwardens refused to light the church, or suffer it to
be lighted, and Mr. Romaine often preached by the light of a single
candle, which he held in his own hand. Ultimately, by the influence of
the Bishop of Peterborough,[181] this vexatious opposition was put an
end to, and he was suffered to see his congregation.
About this time occurred a popular election for the living of St.
Ann’s, Blackfriars, the right of presentation to which is vested
alternately in the Crown and in the parishioners. The last incumbent
was the nephew of the Lord Chancellor Henley, afterwards Earl of
Northington, an intimate friend of Lady Huntingdon. This pious young
clergyman had caught a putrid fever whilst visiting a parishioner
suffering under that disorder, and, as Mr. Cadogan tells us, died
suddenly of this frightful disorder, after he had held the living six
years and a half. “It was immediately impressed on my mind (said Lady
Huntingdon), that Mr. Henley’s vacancy was to be filled by dear Mr.
Romaine.” She spoke to the Lord Chancellor, and, at her suggestion, Mr.
Thornton and Mr. Madan made interest with the parishioners. Mr. Romaine
was absent in Yorkshire, and his canvassers frequently heard his pride
urged against him. “He (it was said) disdains to ask our voices,
while the candidate in canonicals comes hat in hand, bowing from door
to door.”[182] On the 30th of September, 1764, the candidates were
to preach the probation sermon, and Mr. Romaine, apprised by his
friends, was on the spot, and preached from these words:--“We preach
not ourselves, but Christ Jesus the Lord; and ourselves your servants
for Jesus’ sake.” The sermon contained the truth, the whole truth, and
nothing but the truth, as it is in Jesus. His friends, including Lady
Huntingdon, absented themselves, in order that the regular parishioners
might not be incommoded, nor have any shadow of offence. The word
was well received, and was afterwards printed, at the request of the
parishioners. The election proceeded, a scrutiny was demanded, but the
qualification of the votes could not be settled. A second election took
place--Mr. Romaine obtained a great majority of unchallenged votes, but
the friends of the opposite candidates raised new difficulties, and the
matter was thrown into the Court of Chancery.
Pending this vexatious suit, Mr. Romaine preached for Lady Huntingdon,
at Brighton, Oathall, and Bath, and took a journey into Yorkshire to
meet her Ladyship, preaching on his way at Bretby, Derby, &c. His
letters to Lady Huntingdon during this suspense mark its influence on
his mind. In one letter he solicits her Ladyship’s influence with two
Quakers named Webb, who had great power with the voters. His friends,
he says, accuse him of being too easy, “but (he continues) I think not.
* * * Blackfriars’ Church is desirable, but we cannot tell whether
Jesus wants it or not; if he does, he will bring it about: if not, his
will be done.” The cause was put off from day to day; but, for the sake
of order, we may here anticipate the due chronological course of our
narrative, to observe that in the beginning of February, 1766, the Lord
Chancellor Henley finally decreed in his favour, and he was instituted
and inducted accordingly. During the ceremony he was observed to
tremble, and it is well known that numbers of his congregation received
their new pastor most unwillingly; he lived, however, to remove all
their prejudices, and to bless them, with, as well as against, their
own consent. While his friends were wishing him joy of this preferment,
he saw it in a different light: “It is my Master’s will (he says), and
I submit.” To Lady Huntingdon he writes:--
“Now, when I was setting up my rest, and had begun to say unto
my soul, ‘Soul, take thine ease,’ I am called into a public
station, and to the sharpest engagement, just as I had got into
winter quarters--an engagement for life. I can see nothing
before me, so long as the breath is in my body, but war, and
that with unreasonable men, a divided parish, an angry clergy,
a wicked Sodom, and a wicked world, all to be resisted and
overcome: besides all these, a sworn enemy, subtle and cruel,
with whom I can make no peace, no, not a moment’s truce, night
and day, with all his children and his host, is aiming at
my destruction. When I take counsel of the flesh I begin to
faint; but when I go to the sanctuary I see my good cause, and
my Master is Almighty--a tried Friend, and then he makes my
courage revive. Although I am no way fit for the work, yet he
called me to it, and on him I depend for strength to do it and
for success to crown it, I utterly despair of doing anything
as of myself, and therefore the more I have to do, I shall be
forced to live more by faith upon him. In this view I hope to
get a great income by my LIVING. I shall want my Jesus
more, and shall get closer to him. As he has made my application
to him more necessary and more constant, he has given me
stronger tokens of his love. Methinks I can hear his sweet
voice--‘_Come closer, come closer, soul! nearer yet; I will
bring you into circumstances that you cannot do without me!_”
No one strove more on his side, or rejoiced more in his success, than
the zealous Countess:--
“Through the gracious hand of God (says her Ladyship) my dear
and excellent Romaine has at length succeeded, and the decision
of the Lord Chancellor has put to silence the evil clamours of
his unreasonable opponents.”
Mr. Jesse, who, with Mr. Shirley, was then at Oathall, says--
“We have had quite a little jubilee on the confirmation of the
validity of our dear brother Romaine’s election. Never have I
seen more heartfelt joy and gratitude than was expressed on that
occasion by her Ladyship. I verily believe that if Mr. Romaine
had not gained his election, the disappointment and vexation
would have well nigh killed her.”
His success was ample; he was heard with reverence by his parishioners,
and vast sums were distributed out of their communion offerings. The
neglect, by the then rulers of the Church, of such men as Romaine,
Walker of Truro, Adams of Wintringham, Venn, Newton, Shirley, Townsend,
Haweis, Grimshaw, Berridge, Madan, Fletcher, Talbot, Conyers,
Pentycross, Milner, Jesse, and others, should be a lesson to the candid
diocesan and Church patrons of our day.
In the beginning of the year 1765, the Countess of Huntingdon, ever
active in well doing, began to concert measures for introducing the
Gospel into the town of Lewes, where already her Brighton chaplains had
reaped fruit. She first obtained for Mr. Romaine one of the pulpits,
where his preaching gave great umbrage; he afterwards preached in a
large room, and ultimately in the open fields:--
“All gave earnest heed (said her Ladyship) while he applied
those solemn words, ‘Behold the Lamb of God, that taketh
away the sins of the world.’ I did not see one careless or
inattentive person, and there is reason to think that many poor
sinners were cut to the heart.”
But her Ladyship, in all her continued efforts to serve the Master
who had washed her from sin, never exalts, but debases herself, and
considers her best exertions valueless in his sight. In February her
Ladyship was in London, at the residence of Lady Fanny Shirley, and,
in company with her chaplains, attended the performance of Ruth, an
oratorio, at the Lock Chapel. Mr. Madan and Dr. Haweis were both
extremely musical, and composers. The music of “Before Jehovah’s awful
throne”--“From all that dwell below the skies”--“Salvation! O the
joyful sound”--“To God, the only wise”--and many others, by Mr. Madan,
are well known and deservedly popular. She returned to Brighton, and
thence to Lewes, and obtained there a pulpit for Mr. Madan and Mr.
Fletcher. The clergy opposed them violently, and they betook themselves
to a large room, where they preached alternately to great numbers.
Very soon, however, Lady Huntingdon, erected a chapel, which was
opened on the 13th of August, 1765, by Mr. Peckwell, Mr. Pentycross,
and the Rev. George Burder, then a member of the Tabernacle, and about
to enter on his ministerial career. The chapel was regularly supplied
by the ministers of Lady Huntingdon’s Connexion. Mr. Jones, a student
of Trevecca, occupied it for some time, and thirty years after Dr.
Peckwell’s opening, it was re-opened by the Rev. G. S. White, of
Cheshunt, on the 21st of July, 1805.
Mr. William Mason, who had been brought to a knowledge of the light by
the Rev. John Wesley, and had been a class leader in his Connexion,
having attended the Tabernacle, and hearing Mr. Whitefield and other
Calvinistic preachers, withdrew from Mr. Wesley. It was about this time
that he published “A Letter to the Rev. Dr. Free, on the morality and
divinity contained in certain articles proposed by the Doctor to the
Court of Assistants of the Worshipful Company of Salters.” This letter
was a defence of his honoured and much-esteemed friends, the Rev. Mr.
Romaine and Mr. Jones. He was a magistrate of the county of Surrey, and
resided at Rotherhithe-wall, whence he addressed to Lady Huntingdon an
apology for declining an invitation to Brighton. This letter is dated
January 26, 1765:--
“Many thanks (he says) for your Ladyship’s honour done me in
the third invitation to Brighthelmstone. How happy should I be,
if I may he permitted an excursion from business to embrace it.
Our dear Mr. Romaine is elected to Blackfriars, 134 against 105.
I heard from dear Mrs. Romaine last week, when I dined there,
that your Ladyship is bringing up a little company for Jesus.
Have you seen my poor thoughts on a sermon and catechism for
children?”
In April Mr. Romaine again visited Brighton, and was aided in carrying
out the pious views of Lady Huntingdon by the Rev. Howel Davies and
the Rev. Peter Williams. At Worthing several clergymen attempted to
excite a riot while Mr. Davies was preaching, and not succeeding in
their efforts, went away, threatening revenge on the first Methodist
parson they might meet. What a contrast does this conduct afford to
that of Mr. Edwards, of Ipswich, a Dissenting minister, who, having
been recommended to Lady Huntingdon by Mr. Williams, was invited by her
Ladyship to visit her at Brighton. “I have no objection to truth from
the lips of a Dissenter (said her Ladyship), provided he has no design
to form a party.” To this Mr. Edwards replied:--
“With an incessant dependence on the Divine Spirit, I desire
that my whole thoughts, aims, and endeavours, in the course
of my ministry, may be to lead the minds of the people to
Jesus Christ’s person, offices, character, &c., and to lay no
manner of stress upon the outskirts of religion, and, like
your Ladyship, practise what I explode; that thereby the fury
of bigotry may be tamed and subdued, and, under the blessing
of God, a spirit of love may be kindled towards all who love
Jesus Christ in sincerity. Notwithstanding the sad divisions
that are in the Church, yet the children of God are one: one
in relation--one family--one flock, and, as far as they are
sanctified, one in image and likeness--one in their aims and
requests--one in friendship--one in interest and inheritance.
It is a pity, then, that any should have a narrow spirit, or
an alienation of affection between them, seeing that they
have but one common interest to engage in. However, I have
had repeated evidences, from many parts of the kingdom, that
your Ladyship’s truly Catholic spirit has influenced many; and
a review of that evangelical temper which you cultivate will
afford an inward satisfaction, which applause cannot give, or
censure take away. What a great historian says of Vespasian is
equally applicable to your Ladyship--that your noble descent
and your rich abundance have changed nothing in you but this,
that your power of doing good is made in some degree to answer
your will, counting it a greater honour to lay out for God than
to lay up for yourself. May your life upon earth continue to a
very distant period--the life of faith continually increase;
and may you daily enjoy in rich abundance that UNCTION
from the HOLY ONE; and at last, with a full gale, enter
the harbour of eternal glory. These wishes, as they are the
agreeable employ of my thoughts, so they are the earnest prayer
of, Madam, your Ladyship’s, &c.”[183]
During this summer the number of Lady Huntingdon’s clerical guests
at Brighton and Oathall was increased by the visit of the Rev.
Edward Spencer, afterwards the celebrated rector of Winkfield, near
Bradford, in Wiltshire. At the time of which we speak he was curate
to Dr. Chapman, of Bradford, master of St. John’s Hospital, Bath. His
preaching was appealed against as Methodistical, and complaints made
to Dr. Hume, Bishop of Salisbury. He was invited by Lady Huntingdon to
join her Connexion; but, with all respect and devotion, he declined
this offer, feeling that within the pale of regularity he might
encounter offence and work his Master’s business. During this summer
her Ladyship opened her chapels at Bretby and Bath, and did not return
to her beloved Brighton till November. In that month Mr. Romaine
addressed to her Ladyship a letter, which commenced thus:--
“Dear and honoured in our eternally precious Jesus, grace be
to you. His mercies fail not. He is exceedingly, according to
his infinite nature, kind and good to me and mine. In temporals
beyond our hopes. Here we are at home in safety, and in want of
nothing. In spirituals, he is a Saviour to us, and what would we
more?”
Having spent the winter of 1765 between Brighton and Oathall, her
Ladyship, early in the spring of 1766, applied to Mr. Hicks, rector
of Wrestlingworth, to supply her chapels for a time. Her Ladyship’s
request was made through Mr. Berridge, under date of February 12th, and
a few days afterwards he addressed to her Ladyship one of his able but
eccentric notes, declining not only for Mr. Hicks, but for himself, her
Ladyship’s invitation:--
“As to myself (he says), I am now determined not to quit my
charge again in a hurry. Never do I leave my bees, though for a
short space only, but at my return I find them either casting
and colting, or fighting and robbing each other; not gathering
honey from every flower in God’s garden, but filling the air
with their buzzings, and darting out the venom of their little
hearts in their fiery stings. Nay, so inflamed they often are,
and a mighty little thing disturbs them, that three months’
tinkling afterwards with a warming-pan will scarce hive them
at last, and make them settle to work again. They are now in
a mighty ferment, occasioned by the sounding brass of a Welsh
DYER,[184] who has done me the same kind office at
Everton that he has done my friend at Tottenham. ’Tis a pity
he should have the charge of anything but _wasps_; these
he might allure into the treacle pot, and step in before them
himself, but he never will fill a hive with honey.”
He goes on thus figuratively to warn her Ladyship against the
Independents and Baptists, and other Dissenters, who were at that time
alluring the congregations from her Ladyship’s chapels.
This singular style of Mr. Berridge has led Mr. Southey to call him a
“buffoon as well as fanatic.” He was neither. Lady Huntingdon invited
him repeatedly to meet at her house the elegant and the courtly, and
Mr. Whitefield called him an “angel of the Church” indeed, employing
him repeatedly as his own substitute at Tottenham-court Chapel and the
Tabernacle.
The late Mr. Simeon, of Cambridge, did not think so, when he
preached his funeral sermon. Clare Hall did not think him either,
when it presented him to the vicarage of Everton. But his office of
_Moderator_ is abundant proof that he was neither a buffoon or
fanatic. Unhappily for Southey, when he ventured to write the life of
Wesley, he was ignorant both of the men and the subject he handled.
Mr. Watson has taught him a lesson, which he will remember to the
last hour of his existence; and the exclamation of George the Fourth,
on the perusal of Mr. Watson’s defence of Wesley--“Oh! my poor Poet
Laureate! my poor Poet Laureate!”--must have been cutting to Southey.
Berridge was not such a buffoon as South, nor such a punster as Donne,
nor such a satirist as Lavington. His wit never wounded a penitent,
nor hardened a sinner. It disturbed many a solemn drone, and mortified
the self-righteous; but it never intimidated the humble, nor led the
weak to confound Methodism with hypocrisy. He was constitutionally
_mercurial_, and his perfect scholarship, as a _classic_,
enabled him to give _point_ to piquant thoughts--for he was
equally familiar with Aristotelian and Aristophanic Greek; and there
will be some buffoonery whenever the latter is understood. He did not,
however,
“Win a grin, where he should woo a soul.”
He often caused a smile, that he might create a tear--a hazardous,
if not an unwarrantable experiment in the pulpit. In learning he
was inferior to very few of the most celebrated sons of science
and literature at the University: his masculine ability, his
uniform sobriety, and long residence at college, were favourable to
improvement; and so insatiable was his thirst for knowledge, that
from his entrance at Clare Hall to his acceptance of the vicarage of
Everton, he regularly studied fifteen hours a day. The late Mr. Venn,
who had been in habits of intimacy with him from their admission into
college, has declared, “that he was as familiar with the learned
languages as he was with his mother-tongue.” He also added, “that he
could be under no temptation to court respect by itinerant preaching,
for he merited and enjoyed _that_ in a high degree among all ranks of
the literary professions at the University.”
The _mode_ of his _public ministrations_ was emphatically original. He
evidently observed method in all his sermons; but it was unhackneyed.
It was not his custom to arrange his subjects under general heads
of discourse; but when he made the attempt, his divisions would be
particularly natural, and rigidly adhered to. As he rarely allegorized,
or accommodated the Scriptures, he was less liable to mistake their
meaning. He seldom referred to their original text; but when he did,
his remarks were pertinent. In his discussion of general topics,
his figures were new, his illustrations apposite, and his arguments
conclusive. Though he obtained the just reputation of being a learned
man, and was conversant with all the beauties of language, so ardent
was his desire of doing good to his most illiterate hearers, that
he laid aside an affected style of elegance, and, from principle,
cultivated an easy and familiar diction.
His stature was tall, but not awkward--his make was lusty, but not
corpulent--his voice deep, but not hoarse--strong, but not noisy--his
pronunciation was distinct, but not broad. In his countenance there was
gravity without grimace. His address was solemn, but not sour--easy,
but not careless--deliberate, but not drawling--pointed, but not
personal--affectionate, but not fawning. He would often weep, but
never whine: his sentences were short, but not ambiguous--his ideas
were collected, but not crowded. Upon the whole, his manner and person
were agreeable and majestic. But what transcended all the above
excellences, and gave him such an ascendancy in the consciences of
his numerous hearers, were the _doctrines_ he taught, together
with their unbounded influence upon all the powers of his mind and
transactions of his life. Deep necessity compelled him to embrace and
preach Jesus Christ; and the same necessity led him into more enlarged
discoveries of his grace. Living under their perpetual control, and
enjoying their ineffable sweetness, he was not only willing to impart
the truths of the everlasting Gospel, but to consecrate himself to the
service of his Lord and the souls of men. For twenty-four years he
continued to ride nearly one hundred miles, and to preach some ten or
twelve sermons, every week. At home, for his hearers who came from a
distance, his table was served, and his stables open for their horses;
and abroad, houses and barns were rented, lay preachers supplied, and
his own expenses paid out of his own pocket. His ear was ever attentive
to the tale of woe, his eye was keen to observe the miseries of the
poor, the law of kindness was written upon his heart, and his hand
was always ready to administer relief. The gains of his vicarage, of
his fellowship, and of his patrimonial income (for his father died
very rich), and even his family plate, were appropriated to support
his liberality, he was always a favourite with Lady Huntingdon. Her
conversation and correspondence with him were greatly blessed to his
profit and advantage, and instrumental, under the divine blessing,
in leading him to clearer and more consistent views of the plan of
salvation, and of preaching the whole counsel of God with greater
boldness and clearness. To her he was indebted for much spiritual
light, and her liberality in other matters was felt and acknowledged by
him.
“Soon after I began to preach the Gospel at Everton (says Mr.
Berridge) the churches in the neighbourhood were deserted, and mine so
overcrowded, that the squire, who ‘did not like strangers (he said),
and hated to be incommoded,’ joined with the offended parsons, and soon
after, a complaint having been made against me, I was summoned before
the bishop. ‘Well, Berridge (said his lordship), did I institute you to
Eaton or Potten? Why do you go preaching out of your own parish?’ ‘My
Lord (says I), I make no claims to the living of those parishes; ’tis
true, I was once at Eaton, and finding a few poor people assembled, I
admonished them to repent of their sins, and to believe in the Lord
Jesus Christ, for the salvation of their souls. At that very moment,
my lord, there were five or six clergymen out of their own parishes,
and enjoying themselves on the Eaton bowling-green.’ ‘I tell you
(retorted his lordship), that if you continue preaching where you have
no right, you will very likely be sent to Huntingdon gaol.’ ‘I have no
more regard, my lord, for a gaol than other folks (rejoined I); but I
had rather go there with a good conscience, than be at liberty without
one.’ His lordship looked very hard at me, ‘Poor fellow! (said he), you
are beside yourself, and in a few months you will either be better or
worse.’ ‘Then, my lord (said I), you may make yourself quite happy in
this business; for if I should be better, you suppose I shall desist
of my own accord; and if worse, you need not send me to Huntingdon
gaol, for I shall be better accommodated in Bedlam.’ His lordship then
pathetically entreated me, as one who had been and wished to continue
my friend, not to embitter the remaining portion of his days by any
squabbles with my brother clergymen, but to go home to my parish,
and so long as I kept within it, I should be at liberty to do what I
liked there.’ As to your conscience (said his lordship), you know that
preaching out of your parish is contrary to the canons of the Church.’
‘There is one canon, my lord (said I) which I dare not disobey, and
that says, _Go, preach the Gospel to_ EVERY CREATURE.’”
The bishop was displeased, but Berridge gave himself little uneasiness
on the subject; in the mean while an old friend, a fellow of Clare
Hall, who was very intimate with Pitt (afterwards Lord Chatham),
stimulated him to exert his influence with a nobleman who had been the
means of the bishop’s promotion. This noble lord immediately applied to
the bishop in behalf of Berridge, and, notwithstanding the efforts of
his numerous enemies, the good man was suffered to occupy “the lines
which had fallen to him in pleasant places.” Although, however, Mr.
Berridge attributes his triumph over the squire and his party to the
influence of Mr. Pitt, we must not forget that Lord Chancellor Henley,
who had promoted the bishop (Dr. John Green) to the see of Lincoln, was
the friend of Lady Huntingdon, and that to her Ladyship’s application
Mr. Berridge owed the interference with the bishop of his immediate
patron--an influence not inferior to that of the renowned Earl of
Chatham. To this Mr. Grimshaw alludes in a letter of this period, when
he says--“May the Lord eternally bless that dear, good, honourable Lady
Huntingdon, who would defend a persecuted minister of Christ to the
last gown on her back and the last shilling in her pocket!”
In the beginning of this year her Ladyship came from Brighton to
London, and went thence to Bath, returning to town in July. One of Mr.
Berridge’s very singular but powerful letters was addressed to her
Ladyship in that month. It refers, among other matters, to the fatal
illness of Mr. Beckman, a particular friend of Mr. Whitefield’s, who,
with Messrs. Keene and Hardy, managed the affairs of the Tabernacle and
Tottenham-court Chapel. We would quote this letter at length, but fear
lest we should be thought to have already trespassed too long on the
patience of the reader with the eccentric and self-condemning letters
of this excellent and amiable, but very original writer. It is a duty,
however, which the biographer cannot with propriety neglect, to let men
paint themselves. The Christian can not take offence at the exhibition
of Christian weakness. If any such weak brother be offended by the
quaint strength of Mr. Berridge’s epistolary language, let him remember
how the apostles speak of their own weakness and that of each other,
and let self-examination lead to better thoughts and milder judgments.
The exuberant humour of Berridge, and his very figurative and even
whimsical mode of illustration, should act as a warning on all who feel
any tendency to singularity in this way. Let them remember, whether
in writing or in speaking, this sacred injunction--in doctrine, show
incorruptness, _gravity_, and sincerity.
We have before us a series of letters, a correspondence between Mr.
Berridge and Mr. Thornton. The first of the letters to which we allude
is dated Everton, September 21, 1775, and in it Berridge gives a
whimsical account of his loss of a tooth, of the ill effects of this
loss on his utterance, of his supplying the cavity with bees’ wax,
which fell out in the midst of a sermon, and compelled him to conclude
abruptly, in horror of the hissing and indistinct sounds he uttered. He
goes on quaintly to relate a struggle between himself and Lady Pride,
who advises him to go to London and have a new tooth, but to apply
to Mr. Thornton to advance 10_l._, which would be necessary for
the journey and the operation. To this curious letter of the vicar of
Everton the following delightful and instructive reply was sent by Mr.
Thornton, under date of Clapham, October 17, 1775:--
“TO THE REV. JOHN BERRIDGE.
“Dear Sir--Your favour, with the enclosed note, I received: we
merchants are better taught than to be offended at any that
enclose us good bank bills, for they are always acceptable;
there is more danger of my being awkward in the acknowledgment
of the receipt, than offended. I recollect but one instance
that any of your cloth put me to the test, and that was through
roguery, so I did let it travel back again to Dr. Shylock, but I
promise you I have not a thought of it now. I shall only add, I
thank you for the opportunity, and desire you will be free with
me at all times.
“In some discussions we have had relative to ‘_The Christian
World Unmasked_,’ I could not help laughing with you, though
at the same time I felt a check within; your reasons silenced,
but did not satisfy me. Your vein of humour and mine seem much
alike; if there is any difference between us, it lies here--I
would strive against mine, while you seem to indulge yours.
I fight against mine, because I find the ludicrous spirit is
just as dangerous as the sullen one: and it is much the same
to our great adversary, whether he falls in with a capricious
or facetious turn of mind. I could not forbear smiling at your
humorous allegory about the tooth, and was pleased with the good
sense displayed in it; yet something came across my mind--Is
this method agreeable to the idea we ought to entertain of a
father in Israel? It would pass mighty well in a newspaper, or
anything calculated for public entertainment; but it certainly
wanted that solidity or seriousness that a Christian minister
should write with. What the apostle said in another sense
will apply here--‘When I was a child, I spake as a child,’
&c. An expression of yours in your prayer before sermon, when
at Tottenham-court, struck me; that _God would give us_
NEW _bread, not stale, but what was baked in the oven
that day_. Whether it is that I am too little, or you too
much, used to such expressions, I won’t pretend to determine;
but I could not help thinking it savoured of attention to men
more than to God. I know the apology frequently made for such
language is, that the common people require it--it fixes their
attention, and affords matter for conversation afterwards; for
a sentence out of the common road is more remembered than all
the rest. This may be true; but the effect it has is only a loud
laugh among their acquaintances; not one person is edified,
and many are offended by such like expressions. Some ministers
I have known run into the other extreme, and think something
grand must be uttered to strike the audience; but this seems
to me as unnecessary as the other, and both have a twang of
self-conceit, and seem like leaning to carnal wisdom. Truth,
simple truth, requires no embellishments, nor should it be
degraded; we are not to add or to take from it, but to remember
the power is of God wholly. My reverend friend, as an old man,
might be indulged in his favourite peculiarities, if they would
stop with him; but others catch the infection, and we find young
ministers and common people indulging themselves in the same
way--they think they are authorized so to do by such an example.
Wit in any person is dangerous and often mischievous, when used
improperly, and especially on religious subjects; for as the
professing part of an audience will much longer retain a witty
or a low expression, than one more serious, so will the wicked
part of it too, and turn it to the disadvantage of religion.
I recollect but one humorous passage in all the Bible, which
is that of Elijah with the Baalites; and when the time, place,
and circumstances are properly considered, nothing could be
more seasonable--nothing so effectually expose the impotency
of their false god and the absurdity of their vain worship.
The prophets often speak ironically, sometimes satirically,
but I do not remember of their ever speaking ludicrously. Our
Lord and his apostles never had recourse to any such methods.
The short abstracts we have of their sermons and conversations
are all in serious strain, and ministers cannot copy after
better examples. I dare not say that giving liberty to a man’s
natural turn, or an endeavour to put and keep the people in
good humour, is sinful; but this I may assert, such a method is
universally followed on the stage, and in all places of public
entertainment; and therefore it seems to me to savour much more
of the old man than of the new.
“I remember you once jocularly informed me you was born with a
fool’s cap on: pray, my dear sir, is it not high time it was
pulled off? Such an accoutrement may suit a natural birth, and
be of service; but surely it has nothing to do with a spiritual
one, nor ever can be made ornamental to a serious man, much
less to a Christian minister. I waive mentioning Scripture
injunctions, such as, ‘Let your speech be with grace,’ &c., as
you know these better than I do. Surely they should have some
weight, for idle and unprofitable words stand forbidden. If it
should please God to give you to see things as I do, you will
think it necessary to be more guarded; but should you think me
mistaken, I trust it will make no interruption in our friendship
that I am thus free with you, as it proceeds from a sincere
love and regard. The Tabernacle people are in general wild and
enthusiastic, and delight in anything out of the common, which
is a temper of mind, though in some respects necessary, yet
should never be encouraged. If you and some few others, who have
the greatest influence over them, would use the curb, instead
of the spur, I am persuaded the effect would be very blessed.
Wild fire is better than no fire; but there is a divine warmth
between these two extremes which the real Christian catches, and
which, when obtained, is evidenced by a cool head and a warm
heart, and makes him a glorious, shining example to all around
him. I desire to be earnest in prayer that we may be more and
more partakers of this heavenly wisdom, and ascribe all might,
majesty, and dominion to the Lord alone. I am, dear Sir, yours
affectionately,
“JOHN THORNTON.”
The reply to this letter is an honour equally to both correspondents:
it is addressed to John Thornton, Esq., and dated Everton, October 22,
1765:--
“Dear and honoured Sir--Your favour of the 17th requires an
answer, attended with a challenge. And I do hereby challenge
you, and defy all your acquaintances to prove, that I have a
single correspondent half so honest as yourself. Epistolary
intercourses are become a polite traffic; and he that can
say pretty things, and wink at bad things, is an admired
correspondent. Indeed, for want of due authority and meekness
on one side, and of patience and humility on the other, to give
or to take reproof, a fear of raising indignation, instead
of conviction, often puts a bar on the door of my lips; for
I find where reproof does not humble, it hardens; and the
seasonable time of striking, if we can catch it, is when the
iron is hot--when the heart is melted down in a furnace. Then
it submits to the stroke, and takes and retains the impression.
I wish you would exercise the trade of a Gospel limner, and
draw the features of all my brethren in black, and send them
their portraits. I believe you would do them justice every
way, by giving every cheek its proper blush, without hiding a
dimple upon it. Yet I fear, if your subsistence depended on
this business, you would often want a morsel of bread, unless I
sent you a quartern loaf from Everton. As to myself, you know
the man: odd things break from me as abruptly as croaking from
a raven. I was born with a fool’s cap. ‘True (you say), yet why
is the cap not put off?--it suits the first Adam, but not the
second.’ A very proper question, and my answer is this: a fool’s
cap is not put off so readily as a night-cap. One cleaves to
the head and one to the heart. Not many prayers only, but many
furnaces, are needful for this purpose. And, after all, the same
thing happens to a tainted heart as to a tainted cask, which may
be sweetened by many washings and firings, yet a scent remains
still. Late furnaces have singed the bonnet of my cap, but the
crown still abides on my head; and I must confess that the
crown so abides in whole or in part, for want of a closer walk
with God, and nearer communion with him. ”When I creep near the
throne, this humour disappears, or is tempered so well as not to
be distasteful. Hear, Sir, how my Master deals with me: when I
am running wild, and saying things somewhat rash or very quaint,
he gives me an immediate blow on my breast, which stuns me.
Such a check I received whilst I was uttering that expression in
prayer you complained of; but the bolt was too far shot to be
recovered. Thus I had intelligence from above before I received
it from your hand. However, I am bound to thank you, and do
hereby acknowledge myself reimbursed for returning your note.
“And now, dear Sir, having given you an honest account of
myself, and acknowledged the obligation I owe you, I would
return the obligation in the best manner I am able. It has
been a matter of surprise to me how Dr. Conyers could accept
of Deptford living, and how Mr. Thornton could present him to
it. The Lord says, ‘_Woe to the idle shepherd that leaveth
his flock_.’ Is not Helmsley flock, and a choice flock too,
left--left altogether, and left in the hands, not of shepherds
to feed, but of wolves to devour them? Has not lucre led him to
Deptford, and has not a family connexion overruled your private
judgment? You may give me a box on the ear for these questions,
if you please, and I will take it kindly, and still love and
pray for you. The Lord bless you, and bless your family, and
bless your affectionate servant,
“JOHN BERRIDGE.”
At the close of this letter Mr. Berridge alludes to a circumstance
which may require some explanation. Mr. Thornton was induced, in 1765,
to visit Dr. Conyers, then rector of Helmsley, in the North Riding
of Yorkshire. Delighted as such men must be with each other, they
became friends, and soon after brothers, for Mr. Thornton’s sister,
Mrs. Knipe, a rich and pious widow, was united to Dr. Conyers in 1765.
They were the blessing of their district; but their happiness was not
long-lived, for a lingering illness carried off Mrs. Conyers, to the
deep regret of the parish; yet was this stroke less heavy than that
by which it was followed, for within eighteen months the rectory of
St. Paul’s, Deptford, the presentation to which had been purchased
by Mr. Thornton, became vacant, and Dr. Conyers was removed from his
parishioners, to their heartfelt sorrow. They were his children in the
Gospel; and when we say that the regular communicants were eighteen
hundred, we need add nothing in his praise. But he quitted them,
and to avoid the confusion that he apprehended from their vehement
leave-taking,[185] he quitted Helmsley at midnight. His departure has
been defended by some and blamed by others; but by his parishioners his
loss was the more deplored, as his successor was more of the wolf than
the sheep-dog, and devastated rather than kept the fold.