REV. JAMES HERVEY, M.A., THE LITERARY PARISH-PRIEST. (continued 4)

“I have not had the pleasure of seeing the Critical Review for December; but, I find, from the advertisements in the public papers, that they take Mr. Jenks and his recommender to task. I am not disappointed; I expected no quarter from them.

“You would smile, and be a little surprised, if you were to see what employed my spare hours almost all last week. I never had such an inclination for buffoonery in all my life. It was occasioned by the unworthy and abusive treatment which the Reviewers bestow upon all the most valuable writers that appear in public; and, I verily think, if their insolence can be curbed, it must be done in obedience to that command of unerring wisdom, ‘Answer a fool according to his folly.’”

Again;—

“My friends, who have seen the piece, absolutely disapprove of it. Dr. Stonehouse says, it is a low, dull, spiritless thing; that, I am no more fit for such kind of writing than a carrier’s horse to run a race. He read it, he tells me, to some ingenious ladies, who have a regard for my character; and they declared, they would come over to Weston, and would, upon their knees, (if it were needful,) solicit me not to publish it. Amidst such a diversity of opinions, how shall I determine?”

Again;—

“I have sent you Mr. Dry’s apology; though it is written, it has been thrown aside. I have several doubts, whether my pen carries any edge, and whether the edge, if there is any, be like the saw, or the razor. Is it of the former kind? Then it will not answer my purpose, and will not gall and check the adversaries of Christ and His servants, but will give them occasion to triumph more extravagantly. I have also some doubt, whether this kind of writing suits my character, as a minister of Jesus Christ. Is it not the Εὐτραπελία which the apostle condemns and banishes from the conversation of Christians? The principal reason to justify such a manner of address is, that no other method seems to have the least probability of succeeding. All that is solid, these men will evade with a sneer; and all that is serious, they will turn into burlesque. Ridicule is the only vein in which they will bleed.”

Nothing more need be added, except, that, though “Ned Dry’s Apology for the Critical Reviewers,” was written, it was never published.

Troubles often come in troops. In 1757, Mr. Robert Sandeman published his “Letters on Theron and Aspasio,” in two volumes,—a work already noticed in the biography of Ingham. Concerning this, Hervey writes as follows:—

“Weston-Favel, August 6, 1757.

“The author is a Scotchman, I presume, because the two volumes were printed at Edinburgh, and he gave orders for a set to be sent me from Edinburgh. He conceals his name, and none that I am acquainted with are able to discover whose work it is. There are some strictures on my performance; but by far the greatest part of the book is very wide from this mark. Some things are truly excellent; and some animadversions upon me are perfectly just; but others (if I mistake not) are unfair and disingenuous. The manner of writing is by no means despicable,—rather elegant and spirited, than coarse or dull. But there is such an implacable bitterness of spirit, and such an unchristian virulence of censure, against many of the best men that ever lived, and best authors that ever wrote, as much surprises and greatly offends me. I think I never saw a notion of faith more lax, nor an idea of grace more exalted, than in this book.”

Sandeman’s “Letters” created a great sensation;[252] but Hervey had neither strength nor time to answer them. He was about to measure swords with an opponent far more noted than Mr. Sandeman, and left the latter in the hands of his friend, Mr. Cudworth, who, immediately after Hervey’s death, issued “A defence of Theron and Aspasio against the Objections contained in a late Treatise, entitled ‘Letters on Theron and Aspasio.’ To which is prefixed, a series of Letters from Mr. Hervey to the author, authenticating this Defence with his entire approbation, and manifesting it to be the only one that can be presented to the public with that authority.” pp. 224.

Perhaps the title was more ostentatious than facts would justify; but, still, there can be no doubt, that Hervey was perfectly cognisant of a correspondence between Cudworth and Sandeman, and, that, in the main, he approved of Cudworth’s sentiments. Only three weeks before his death, he wrote to Cudworth as follows:—

“Excuse me for keeping your MS. so long. I have been extremely ill. This morning I have been up for four hours, and, in all that time, not able to look into a book, or hold up my head. I fully assent to your opinions; and think you have proved the warrant of a sinner’s application of Christ very satisfactorily. If I live, I should much desire a copy of this your correspondence, when you have revised and finished it. Or do you intend to print it?”

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

“1758, January 3.

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

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

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

“Weston, March, 1758.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Weston-Favel, June 23, 1758.

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

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

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

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

“Weston, October 19, 1758.

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

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

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

A fortnight later, he wrote again:—

“Weston-Favel, November 7, 1758.

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

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

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

“London, November 29, 1758.

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

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

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

“Your affectionate brother and servant,

“J. Wesley.”[256]

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

“London, December 19, 1758.

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

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

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

“Yours most affectionately, in our common Lord,

“G. Whitefield.”

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

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

“December 15, 1758.

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

“J. Hervey.”

“Weston-Favel, December 16, 1758.

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

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

“J. Hervey.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mr. William Hervey adds:—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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