Chapter L: Tyerman (14)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“LONDON, _June 9, 1752_.

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

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

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

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

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

“Ever yours whilst

“GEORGE WHITEFIELD.”

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

“LONDON, _November 14, 1752_.

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

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

“GEORGE WHITEFIELD.”

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

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

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

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

“LONDON, _January 27, 1753_.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yours, etc.,

“GEORGE WHITEFIELD.”

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

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

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

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

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

“_July 14, 1753._

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

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

“WESTON-FAVEL, _March 17, 1753_.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“WESTON-FAVEL, _October 28, 1753_.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“WESTON-FAVEL, _June 29, 1754_.

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

“JAMES HERVEY.”[227]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Letter II. Theron, convinced of the iniquity of his life,
and the evil of his heart, sees the necessity of a better
righteousness than his own.—Desires a further explanation, and
a fuller proof of the doctrine under debate.

“Letter III. Aspasio proves the point—from the Liturgy—the
Articles—the Homilies of the Church of England—and the writings
of the Fathers.

“Letter IV. Aspasio re-establishes the tenet, from the
Scriptures of the Old Testament.

“Letter V. Aspasio relates a remarkable panic.—Terrors of the
day of judgment.—Christ’s Righteousness and its Imputation,
largely demonstrated from the New Testament.

“Letter VI. Theron takes a cursory view of the habitable
creation.—Traces the perfections of nature through the earth,
air, and fire.—Admirable construction, and advantageous
effects, of these elements.

“Letter VII. Aspasio takes occasion to display the no
less admirable perfection of Christ’s Righteousness.—Its
Principle—Extent—Perseverance.

“Letter VIII. Aspasio describes a drought.—Majesty and beauty
of the sun, after a night of rain.—The meritorious excellency
of Christ’s Righteousness illustrated, from the magnificence
of His works, and the divinity of His person.

“Letter IX. Theron’s account of the western cliffs—the wonders
of the ocean—and the benefits of navigation.

“Letter X. Aspasio enumerates the much richer benefits
resulting from the Imputation of Christ’s Righteousness.—Shows
their happy influence, on holiness of heart, and obedience of
life.

“Letter XI. Aspasio exemplifies the last particular; in two
very memorable instances.—Especially in the conduct of Abraham
offering up his son Isaac.

“Letter XII. Aspasio touches upon union with Christ.—How
described in Scripture.—Its blessed and glorious effects.

“Dialogue XV. Aspasio revisits Theron.—Theron under anxiety
of spirit.—Partly to entertain, partly to comfort his friend,
Aspasio enlarges upon the bounty of the Creator, visible both
in the animal and vegetable world.—The new convert is slow of
heart to believe.—Evangelical motives to faith.

“Dialogue XVI. Harvest scene.—Philenor’s
gardens.—Statues.—Grove of evergreens.—Nature of true
faith.—Its sure foundation, and sovereign supports.

“Dialogue XVII. A river voyage.—The diversified
prospect.—Comparative happiness.—Advantages of peace.—A
celebration of the Gospel and its blessings, in a kind of
rhapsody.—Christ’s Righteousness applied, to every case of
distress, and every time of need.”

Such is Hervey’s own correct outline of his work. As the reader will easily perceive, the book is a mixture of theological teaching and scenic painting, the latter being used, as Hervey himself states, “to soften the asperities of argument.” His “views of nature” are employed, not as being essential to the truths which he wished to teach, but rather, to grace his book with ornament, and to render it more readable. Whether this ought to be regarded as an excellence or a blemish, Hervey leaves his readers to determine. He writes,—

“The author confesses a very peculiar fondness for the amiable
scenes of creation. It is, therefore, not at all improbable,
but his excursions on this topic may be of the _diffusive_
kind, and his descriptions somewhat _luxuriant_. It is hoped,
however, that, the benevolent reader will indulge him in this
favourite foible.”

Hervey’s work was one of great importance. Of his “luxuriant descriptions” nothing need be said, except, that, many of them are quite equal to those in his “Meditations and Contemplations.”[229] Nearly all of them, however, might have been entirely omitted without at all interfering with the principal doctrines which it was the object of Hervey to teach and vindicate. They are excrescences, though beautiful,—oases in a doctrinal arena. To many of Hervey’s readers, they would be the most attractive sections of his book; to others, only intent on pursuing and mastering the author’s argument, they would be embellished barriers, and would be skipped.

To Hervey’s doctrines, considered as a whole, orthodox Christians can take no exception. Wesley observed with perfect justness, “Most of the grand truths of Christianity are herein explained and proved with great strength and clearness.”[230] The _crux criticorum_ was Hervey’s peculiar views of what he called “the imputed righteousness of Christ.” A few brief extracts will show what he meant.

“_Aspasio._ Justification is an act of God Almighty’s grace;
whereby He acquits His people from guilt, and accounts them
righteous; for the sake of Christ’s righteousness, which was
wrought out for them, and is imputed to them.

“_Theron._ Two of your terms want some further explication.
What do you understand by _Christ’s righteousness_? And what is
the meaning of _imputed_?

“_Aspasio._ By _Christ’s righteousness_, I understand, _all_
the various instances of His _active_ and _passive_ obedience;
springing from the perfect holiness of His heart; continued
through the whole progress of His life; and extending to the
very last pang of His death. By the word _imputed_, I would
signify, that, this righteousness, though performed by our
Lord, is _placed to our account_; is reckoned or adjudged by
God as _our own_. Insomuch, that we may _plead_ it, and _rely_
on it, for the pardon of our sins; for adoption into His
family; and for the enjoyment of life eternal.”

Again: _Aspasio_ says,—

“The nature of justification, and the nature of condemnation
are two _opposites_, which will mutually illustrate each other.
What is implied in the condemnation of a sinner? He forfeits
eternal life, and is doomed to eternal death. What is included
in the justification of a sinner? It supersedes his obligation
to punishment, and invests him with a title to happiness. In
order to the _first_, there must be a remission of sins. In
order to the _second_, an imputation of righteousness. _Both_
which are derived from Christ’s mediation on our behalf; and
_both_ take place, when we are united to that Divine Head.”

_Theron_ answers,—

“This, I know, is the fine-spun theory of your systematic
divines. But where is their _warrant_ from Scripture? By what
authority do they introduce such subtle distinctions?”