CHAPTER XXI.

Mr. Romaine--Lectureship at St. Dunstan’s--Lord Mansfield--Darkness Visible--The Bishop of Peterborough--Popular Election--St. Ann’s, Blackfriars--Probation Sermon--Contest--Canvassing--Scrutiny--Second Election--Suit in Chancery--Gratitude of Lady Huntingdon--Mr. Jesse--Mr. Shirley--Mr. Romaine’s Views of his Preferment--Lewes--Lady Huntingdon procures an opening for Mr. Romaine, for Mr. Madan, and Mr. Fletcher--The Oratorio--Musical Taste of Mr. Madan and Dr. Haweis--Lady Huntingdon’s Chapel at Lewes opened--and re-opened--Mr. Mason; his Work on the Catechism--Mr. Edwards, of Ipswich--Mr. Berridge and his Bees--Southey’s Reflections--Their Refutation--Character of Berridge; his Wit; his Labours--Berridge and the Bishop.

At the beginning of the year 1764, Mr. Romaine was preaching at Brighton. He was now a married man, and blessed with a family, yet his provision from the church amounted to no more than _eighteen pounds a year_--such was the value of his only preferment, the lectureship of St. Dunstan’s. But he was chaplain to Lady Huntingdon, and had many pious friends, who proved, in his case, that they had pondered on the saying, “They who minister at the altar shall live by the altar.” He was besides singularly abstemious--a grace of poverty which secured to him the riches of confirmed and continued health throughout a long career of usefulness. Even the paltry pittance we have named he was not suffered to enjoy. As at St. George’s, Hanover-square, so at St. Dunstan’s, his preaching offended the rector, who always took possession of the pulpit before the Liturgy was read through, to prevent Mr. Romaine from preaching. He appealed to the law, and Lord Mansfield decided that he could not be excluded from the pulpit: yet the loose decision of the judge enabled the opposite party to keep the church closed to the very latest moment, which they failed not to do, while thousands congregated in the street, and no sooner were the doors opened than they rushed in, to the great peril of each other’s lives. The churchwardens refused to light the church, or suffer it to be lighted, and Mr. Romaine often preached by the light of a single candle, which he held in his own hand. Ultimately, by the influence of the Bishop of Peterborough,[181] this vexatious opposition was put an end to, and he was suffered to see his congregation.

About this time occurred a popular election for the living of St. Ann’s, Blackfriars, the right of presentation to which is vested alternately in the Crown and in the parishioners. The last incumbent was the nephew of the Lord Chancellor Henley, afterwards Earl of Northington, an intimate friend of Lady Huntingdon. This pious young clergyman had caught a putrid fever whilst visiting a parishioner suffering under that disorder, and, as Mr. Cadogan tells us, died suddenly of this frightful disorder, after he had held the living six years and a half. “It was immediately impressed on my mind (said Lady Huntingdon), that Mr. Henley’s vacancy was to be filled by dear Mr. Romaine.” She spoke to the Lord Chancellor, and, at her suggestion, Mr. Thornton and Mr. Madan made interest with the parishioners. Mr. Romaine was absent in Yorkshire, and his canvassers frequently heard his pride urged against him. “He (it was said) disdains to ask our voices, while the candidate in canonicals comes hat in hand, bowing from door to door.”[182] On the 30th of September, 1764, the candidates were to preach the probation sermon, and Mr. Romaine, apprised by his friends, was on the spot, and preached from these words:--“We preach not ourselves, but Christ Jesus the Lord; and ourselves your servants for Jesus’ sake.” The sermon contained the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, as it is in Jesus. His friends, including Lady Huntingdon, absented themselves, in order that the regular parishioners might not be incommoded, nor have any shadow of offence. The word was well received, and was afterwards printed, at the request of the parishioners. The election proceeded, a scrutiny was demanded, but the qualification of the votes could not be settled. A second election took place--Mr. Romaine obtained a great majority of unchallenged votes, but the friends of the opposite candidates raised new difficulties, and the matter was thrown into the Court of Chancery.

Pending this vexatious suit, Mr. Romaine preached for Lady Huntingdon, at Brighton, Oathall, and Bath, and took a journey into Yorkshire to meet her Ladyship, preaching on his way at Bretby, Derby, &c. His letters to Lady Huntingdon during this suspense mark its influence on his mind. In one letter he solicits her Ladyship’s influence with two Quakers named Webb, who had great power with the voters. His friends, he says, accuse him of being too easy, “but (he continues) I think not. * * * Blackfriars’ Church is desirable, but we cannot tell whether Jesus wants it or not; if he does, he will bring it about: if not, his will be done.” The cause was put off from day to day; but, for the sake of order, we may here anticipate the due chronological course of our narrative, to observe that in the beginning of February, 1766, the Lord Chancellor Henley finally decreed in his favour, and he was instituted and inducted accordingly. During the ceremony he was observed to tremble, and it is well known that numbers of his congregation received their new pastor most unwillingly; he lived, however, to remove all their prejudices, and to bless them, with, as well as against, their own consent. While his friends were wishing him joy of this preferment, he saw it in a different light: “It is my Master’s will (he says), and I submit.” To Lady Huntingdon he writes:--

“Now, when I was setting up my rest, and had begun to say unto my soul, ‘Soul, take thine ease,’ I am called into a public station, and to the sharpest engagement, just as I had got into winter quarters--an engagement for life. I can see nothing before me, so long as the breath is in my body, but war, and that with unreasonable men, a divided parish, an angry clergy, a wicked Sodom, and a wicked world, all to be resisted and overcome: besides all these, a sworn enemy, subtle and cruel, with whom I can make no peace, no, not a moment’s truce, night and day, with all his children and his host, is aiming at my destruction. When I take counsel of the flesh I begin to faint; but when I go to the sanctuary I see my good cause, and my Master is Almighty--a tried Friend, and then he makes my courage revive. Although I am no way fit for the work, yet he called me to it, and on him I depend for strength to do it and for success to crown it, I utterly despair of doing anything as of myself, and therefore the more I have to do, I shall be forced to live more by faith upon him. In this view I hope to get a great income by my LIVING. I shall want my Jesus more, and shall get closer to him. As he has made my application to him more necessary and more constant, he has given me stronger tokens of his love. Methinks I can hear his sweet voice--‘_Come closer, come closer, soul! nearer yet; I will bring you into circumstances that you cannot do without me!_”

No one strove more on his side, or rejoiced more in his success, than the zealous Countess:--

“Through the gracious hand of God (says her Ladyship) my dear and excellent Romaine has at length succeeded, and the decision of the Lord Chancellor has put to silence the evil clamours of his unreasonable opponents.”

Mr. Jesse, who, with Mr. Shirley, was then at Oathall, says--

“We have had quite a little jubilee on the confirmation of the validity of our dear brother Romaine’s election. Never have I seen more heartfelt joy and gratitude than was expressed on that occasion by her Ladyship. I verily believe that if Mr. Romaine had not gained his election, the disappointment and vexation would have well nigh killed her.”

His success was ample; he was heard with reverence by his parishioners, and vast sums were distributed out of their communion offerings. The neglect, by the then rulers of the Church, of such men as Romaine, Walker of Truro, Adams of Wintringham, Venn, Newton, Shirley, Townsend, Haweis, Grimshaw, Berridge, Madan, Fletcher, Talbot, Conyers, Pentycross, Milner, Jesse, and others, should be a lesson to the candid diocesan and Church patrons of our day.

In the beginning of the year 1765, the Countess of Huntingdon, ever active in well doing, began to concert measures for introducing the Gospel into the town of Lewes, where already her Brighton chaplains had reaped fruit. She first obtained for Mr. Romaine one of the pulpits, where his preaching gave great umbrage; he afterwards preached in a large room, and ultimately in the open fields:--

“All gave earnest heed (said her Ladyship) while he applied those solemn words, ‘Behold the Lamb of God, that taketh away the sins of the world.’ I did not see one careless or inattentive person, and there is reason to think that many poor sinners were cut to the heart.”

But her Ladyship, in all her continued efforts to serve the Master who had washed her from sin, never exalts, but debases herself, and considers her best exertions valueless in his sight. In February her Ladyship was in London, at the residence of Lady Fanny Shirley, and, in company with her chaplains, attended the performance of Ruth, an oratorio, at the Lock Chapel. Mr. Madan and Dr. Haweis were both extremely musical, and composers. The music of “Before Jehovah’s awful throne”--“From all that dwell below the skies”--“Salvation! O the joyful sound”--“To God, the only wise”--and many others, by Mr. Madan, are well known and deservedly popular. She returned to Brighton, and thence to Lewes, and obtained there a pulpit for Mr. Madan and Mr. Fletcher. The clergy opposed them violently, and they betook themselves to a large room, where they preached alternately to great numbers. Very soon, however, Lady Huntingdon, erected a chapel, which was opened on the 13th of August, 1765, by Mr. Peckwell, Mr. Pentycross, and the Rev. George Burder, then a member of the Tabernacle, and about to enter on his ministerial career. The chapel was regularly supplied by the ministers of Lady Huntingdon’s Connexion. Mr. Jones, a student of Trevecca, occupied it for some time, and thirty years after Dr. Peckwell’s opening, it was re-opened by the Rev. G. S. White, of Cheshunt, on the 21st of July, 1805.

Mr. William Mason, who had been brought to a knowledge of the light by the Rev. John Wesley, and had been a class leader in his Connexion, having attended the Tabernacle, and hearing Mr. Whitefield and other Calvinistic preachers, withdrew from Mr. Wesley. It was about this time that he published “A Letter to the Rev. Dr. Free, on the morality and divinity contained in certain articles proposed by the Doctor to the Court of Assistants of the Worshipful Company of Salters.” This letter was a defence of his honoured and much-esteemed friends, the Rev. Mr. Romaine and Mr. Jones. He was a magistrate of the county of Surrey, and resided at Rotherhithe-wall, whence he addressed to Lady Huntingdon an apology for declining an invitation to Brighton. This letter is dated January 26, 1765:--

“Many thanks (he says) for your Ladyship’s honour done me in the third invitation to Brighthelmstone. How happy should I be, if I may he permitted an excursion from business to embrace it. Our dear Mr. Romaine is elected to Blackfriars, 134 against 105. I heard from dear Mrs. Romaine last week, when I dined there, that your Ladyship is bringing up a little company for Jesus. Have you seen my poor thoughts on a sermon and catechism for children?”

In April Mr. Romaine again visited Brighton, and was aided in carrying out the pious views of Lady Huntingdon by the Rev. Howel Davies and the Rev. Peter Williams. At Worthing several clergymen attempted to excite a riot while Mr. Davies was preaching, and not succeeding in their efforts, went away, threatening revenge on the first Methodist parson they might meet. What a contrast does this conduct afford to that of Mr. Edwards, of Ipswich, a Dissenting minister, who, having been recommended to Lady Huntingdon by Mr. Williams, was invited by her Ladyship to visit her at Brighton. “I have no objection to truth from the lips of a Dissenter (said her Ladyship), provided he has no design to form a party.” To this Mr. Edwards replied:--

“With an incessant dependence on the Divine Spirit, I desire that my whole thoughts, aims, and endeavours, in the course of my ministry, may be to lead the minds of the people to Jesus Christ’s person, offices, character, &c., and to lay no manner of stress upon the outskirts of religion, and, like your Ladyship, practise what I explode; that thereby the fury of bigotry may be tamed and subdued, and, under the blessing of God, a spirit of love may be kindled towards all who love Jesus Christ in sincerity. Notwithstanding the sad divisions that are in the Church, yet the children of God are one: one in relation--one family--one flock, and, as far as they are sanctified, one in image and likeness--one in their aims and requests--one in friendship--one in interest and inheritance. It is a pity, then, that any should have a narrow spirit, or an alienation of affection between them, seeing that they have but one common interest to engage in. However, I have had repeated evidences, from many parts of the kingdom, that your Ladyship’s truly Catholic spirit has influenced many; and a review of that evangelical temper which you cultivate will afford an inward satisfaction, which applause cannot give, or censure take away. What a great historian says of Vespasian is equally applicable to your Ladyship--that your noble descent and your rich abundance have changed nothing in you but this, that your power of doing good is made in some degree to answer your will, counting it a greater honour to lay out for God than to lay up for yourself. May your life upon earth continue to a very distant period--the life of faith continually increase; and may you daily enjoy in rich abundance that UNCTION from the HOLY ONE; and at last, with a full gale, enter the harbour of eternal glory. These wishes, as they are the agreeable employ of my thoughts, so they are the earnest prayer of, Madam, your Ladyship’s, &c.”[183]

During this summer the number of Lady Huntingdon’s clerical guests at Brighton and Oathall was increased by the visit of the Rev. Edward Spencer, afterwards the celebrated rector of Winkfield, near Bradford, in Wiltshire. At the time of which we speak he was curate to Dr. Chapman, of Bradford, master of St. John’s Hospital, Bath. His preaching was appealed against as Methodistical, and complaints made to Dr. Hume, Bishop of Salisbury. He was invited by Lady Huntingdon to join her Connexion; but, with all respect and devotion, he declined this offer, feeling that within the pale of regularity he might encounter offence and work his Master’s business. During this summer her Ladyship opened her chapels at Bretby and Bath, and did not return to her beloved Brighton till November. In that month Mr. Romaine addressed to her Ladyship a letter, which commenced thus:--

“Dear and honoured in our eternally precious Jesus, grace be to you. His mercies fail not. He is exceedingly, according to his infinite nature, kind and good to me and mine. In temporals beyond our hopes. Here we are at home in safety, and in want of nothing. In spirituals, he is a Saviour to us, and what would we more?”

Having spent the winter of 1765 between Brighton and Oathall, her Ladyship, early in the spring of 1766, applied to Mr. Hicks, rector of Wrestlingworth, to supply her chapels for a time. Her Ladyship’s request was made through Mr. Berridge, under date of February 12th, and a few days afterwards he addressed to her Ladyship one of his able but eccentric notes, declining not only for Mr. Hicks, but for himself, her Ladyship’s invitation:--

“As to myself (he says), I am now determined not to quit my charge again in a hurry. Never do I leave my bees, though for a short space only, but at my return I find them either casting and colting, or fighting and robbing each other; not gathering honey from every flower in God’s garden, but filling the air with their buzzings, and darting out the venom of their little hearts in their fiery stings. Nay, so inflamed they often are, and a mighty little thing disturbs them, that three months’ tinkling afterwards with a warming-pan will scarce hive them at last, and make them settle to work again. They are now in a mighty ferment, occasioned by the sounding brass of a Welsh DYER,[184] who has done me the same kind office at Everton that he has done my friend at Tottenham. ’Tis a pity he should have the charge of anything but _wasps_; these he might allure into the treacle pot, and step in before them himself, but he never will fill a hive with honey.”

He goes on thus figuratively to warn her Ladyship against the Independents and Baptists, and other Dissenters, who were at that time alluring the congregations from her Ladyship’s chapels.

This singular style of Mr. Berridge has led Mr. Southey to call him a “buffoon as well as fanatic.” He was neither. Lady Huntingdon invited him repeatedly to meet at her house the elegant and the courtly, and Mr. Whitefield called him an “angel of the Church” indeed, employing him repeatedly as his own substitute at Tottenham-court Chapel and the Tabernacle.

The late Mr. Simeon, of Cambridge, did not think so, when he preached his funeral sermon. Clare Hall did not think him either, when it presented him to the vicarage of Everton. But his office of _Moderator_ is abundant proof that he was neither a buffoon or fanatic. Unhappily for Southey, when he ventured to write the life of Wesley, he was ignorant both of the men and the subject he handled. Mr. Watson has taught him a lesson, which he will remember to the last hour of his existence; and the exclamation of George the Fourth, on the perusal of Mr. Watson’s defence of Wesley--“Oh! my poor Poet Laureate! my poor Poet Laureate!”--must have been cutting to Southey. Berridge was not such a buffoon as South, nor such a punster as Donne, nor such a satirist as Lavington. His wit never wounded a penitent, nor hardened a sinner. It disturbed many a solemn drone, and mortified the self-righteous; but it never intimidated the humble, nor led the weak to confound Methodism with hypocrisy. He was constitutionally _mercurial_, and his perfect scholarship, as a _classic_, enabled him to give _point_ to piquant thoughts--for he was equally familiar with Aristotelian and Aristophanic Greek; and there will be some buffoonery whenever the latter is understood. He did not, however,

“Win a grin, where he should woo a soul.”

He often caused a smile, that he might create a tear--a hazardous, if not an unwarrantable experiment in the pulpit. In learning he was inferior to very few of the most celebrated sons of science and literature at the University: his masculine ability, his uniform sobriety, and long residence at college, were favourable to improvement; and so insatiable was his thirst for knowledge, that from his entrance at Clare Hall to his acceptance of the vicarage of Everton, he regularly studied fifteen hours a day. The late Mr. Venn, who had been in habits of intimacy with him from their admission into college, has declared, “that he was as familiar with the learned languages as he was with his mother-tongue.” He also added, “that he could be under no temptation to court respect by itinerant preaching, for he merited and enjoyed _that_ in a high degree among all ranks of the literary professions at the University.”

The _mode_ of his _public ministrations_ was emphatically original. He evidently observed method in all his sermons; but it was unhackneyed. It was not his custom to arrange his subjects under general heads of discourse; but when he made the attempt, his divisions would be particularly natural, and rigidly adhered to. As he rarely allegorized, or accommodated the Scriptures, he was less liable to mistake their meaning. He seldom referred to their original text; but when he did, his remarks were pertinent. In his discussion of general topics, his figures were new, his illustrations apposite, and his arguments conclusive. Though he obtained the just reputation of being a learned man, and was conversant with all the beauties of language, so ardent was his desire of doing good to his most illiterate hearers, that he laid aside an affected style of elegance, and, from principle, cultivated an easy and familiar diction.

His stature was tall, but not awkward--his make was lusty, but not corpulent--his voice deep, but not hoarse--strong, but not noisy--his pronunciation was distinct, but not broad. In his countenance there was gravity without grimace. His address was solemn, but not sour--easy, but not careless--deliberate, but not drawling--pointed, but not personal--affectionate, but not fawning. He would often weep, but never whine: his sentences were short, but not ambiguous--his ideas were collected, but not crowded. Upon the whole, his manner and person were agreeable and majestic. But what transcended all the above excellences, and gave him such an ascendancy in the consciences of his numerous hearers, were the _doctrines_ he taught, together with their unbounded influence upon all the powers of his mind and transactions of his life. Deep necessity compelled him to embrace and preach Jesus Christ; and the same necessity led him into more enlarged discoveries of his grace. Living under their perpetual control, and enjoying their ineffable sweetness, he was not only willing to impart the truths of the everlasting Gospel, but to consecrate himself to the service of his Lord and the souls of men. For twenty-four years he continued to ride nearly one hundred miles, and to preach some ten or twelve sermons, every week. At home, for his hearers who came from a distance, his table was served, and his stables open for their horses; and abroad, houses and barns were rented, lay preachers supplied, and his own expenses paid out of his own pocket. His ear was ever attentive to the tale of woe, his eye was keen to observe the miseries of the poor, the law of kindness was written upon his heart, and his hand was always ready to administer relief. The gains of his vicarage, of his fellowship, and of his patrimonial income (for his father died very rich), and even his family plate, were appropriated to support his liberality, he was always a favourite with Lady Huntingdon. Her conversation and correspondence with him were greatly blessed to his profit and advantage, and instrumental, under the divine blessing, in leading him to clearer and more consistent views of the plan of salvation, and of preaching the whole counsel of God with greater boldness and clearness. To her he was indebted for much spiritual light, and her liberality in other matters was felt and acknowledged by him.

“Soon after I began to preach the Gospel at Everton (says Mr. Berridge) the churches in the neighbourhood were deserted, and mine so overcrowded, that the squire, who ‘did not like strangers (he said), and hated to be incommoded,’ joined with the offended parsons, and soon after, a complaint having been made against me, I was summoned before the bishop. ‘Well, Berridge (said his lordship), did I institute you to Eaton or Potten? Why do you go preaching out of your own parish?’ ‘My Lord (says I), I make no claims to the living of those parishes; ’tis true, I was once at Eaton, and finding a few poor people assembled, I admonished them to repent of their sins, and to believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, for the salvation of their souls. At that very moment, my lord, there were five or six clergymen out of their own parishes, and enjoying themselves on the Eaton bowling-green.’ ‘I tell you (retorted his lordship), that if you continue preaching where you have no right, you will very likely be sent to Huntingdon gaol.’ ‘I have no more regard, my lord, for a gaol than other folks (rejoined I); but I had rather go there with a good conscience, than be at liberty without one.’ His lordship looked very hard at me, ‘Poor fellow! (said he), you are beside yourself, and in a few months you will either be better or worse.’ ‘Then, my lord (said I), you may make yourself quite happy in this business; for if I should be better, you suppose I shall desist of my own accord; and if worse, you need not send me to Huntingdon gaol, for I shall be better accommodated in Bedlam.’ His lordship then pathetically entreated me, as one who had been and wished to continue my friend, not to embitter the remaining portion of his days by any squabbles with my brother clergymen, but to go home to my parish, and so long as I kept within it, I should be at liberty to do what I liked there.’ As to your conscience (said his lordship), you know that preaching out of your parish is contrary to the canons of the Church.’ ‘There is one canon, my lord (said I) which I dare not disobey, and that says, _Go, preach the Gospel to_ EVERY CREATURE.’”

The bishop was displeased, but Berridge gave himself little uneasiness on the subject; in the mean while an old friend, a fellow of Clare Hall, who was very intimate with Pitt (afterwards Lord Chatham), stimulated him to exert his influence with a nobleman who had been the means of the bishop’s promotion. This noble lord immediately applied to the bishop in behalf of Berridge, and, notwithstanding the efforts of his numerous enemies, the good man was suffered to occupy “the lines which had fallen to him in pleasant places.” Although, however, Mr. Berridge attributes his triumph over the squire and his party to the influence of Mr. Pitt, we must not forget that Lord Chancellor Henley, who had promoted the bishop (Dr. John Green) to the see of Lincoln, was the friend of Lady Huntingdon, and that to her Ladyship’s application Mr. Berridge owed the interference with the bishop of his immediate patron--an influence not inferior to that of the renowned Earl of Chatham. To this Mr. Grimshaw alludes in a letter of this period, when he says--“May the Lord eternally bless that dear, good, honourable Lady Huntingdon, who would defend a persecuted minister of Christ to the last gown on her back and the last shilling in her pocket!”

In the beginning of this year her Ladyship came from Brighton to London, and went thence to Bath, returning to town in July. One of Mr. Berridge’s very singular but powerful letters was addressed to her Ladyship in that month. It refers, among other matters, to the fatal illness of Mr. Beckman, a particular friend of Mr. Whitefield’s, who, with Messrs. Keene and Hardy, managed the affairs of the Tabernacle and Tottenham-court Chapel. We would quote this letter at length, but fear lest we should be thought to have already trespassed too long on the patience of the reader with the eccentric and self-condemning letters of this excellent and amiable, but very original writer. It is a duty, however, which the biographer cannot with propriety neglect, to let men paint themselves. The Christian can not take offence at the exhibition of Christian weakness. If any such weak brother be offended by the quaint strength of Mr. Berridge’s epistolary language, let him remember how the apostles speak of their own weakness and that of each other, and let self-examination lead to better thoughts and milder judgments. The exuberant humour of Berridge, and his very figurative and even whimsical mode of illustration, should act as a warning on all who feel any tendency to singularity in this way. Let them remember, whether in writing or in speaking, this sacred injunction--in doctrine, show incorruptness, _gravity_, and sincerity.

We have before us a series of letters, a correspondence between Mr. Berridge and Mr. Thornton. The first of the letters to which we allude is dated Everton, September 21, 1775, and in it Berridge gives a whimsical account of his loss of a tooth, of the ill effects of this loss on his utterance, of his supplying the cavity with bees’ wax, which fell out in the midst of a sermon, and compelled him to conclude abruptly, in horror of the hissing and indistinct sounds he uttered. He goes on quaintly to relate a struggle between himself and Lady Pride, who advises him to go to London and have a new tooth, but to apply to Mr. Thornton to advance 10_l._, which would be necessary for the journey and the operation. To this curious letter of the vicar of Everton the following delightful and instructive reply was sent by Mr. Thornton, under date of Clapham, October 17, 1775:--

“TO THE REV. JOHN BERRIDGE.

“Dear Sir--Your favour, with the enclosed note, I received: we merchants are better taught than to be offended at any that enclose us good bank bills, for they are always acceptable; there is more danger of my being awkward in the acknowledgment of the receipt, than offended. I recollect but one instance that any of your cloth put me to the test, and that was through roguery, so I did let it travel back again to Dr. Shylock, but I promise you I have not a thought of it now. I shall only add, I thank you for the opportunity, and desire you will be free with me at all times.

“In some discussions we have had relative to ‘_The Christian World Unmasked_,’ I could not help laughing with you, though at the same time I felt a check within; your reasons silenced, but did not satisfy me. Your vein of humour and mine seem much alike; if there is any difference between us, it lies here--I would strive against mine, while you seem to indulge yours. I fight against mine, because I find the ludicrous spirit is just as dangerous as the sullen one: and it is much the same to our great adversary, whether he falls in with a capricious or facetious turn of mind. I could not forbear smiling at your humorous allegory about the tooth, and was pleased with the good sense displayed in it; yet something came across my mind--Is this method agreeable to the idea we ought to entertain of a father in Israel? It would pass mighty well in a newspaper, or anything calculated for public entertainment; but it certainly wanted that solidity or seriousness that a Christian minister should write with. What the apostle said in another sense will apply here--‘When I was a child, I spake as a child,’ &c. An expression of yours in your prayer before sermon, when at Tottenham-court, struck me; that _God would give us_ NEW _bread, not stale, but what was baked in the oven that day_. Whether it is that I am too little, or you too much, used to such expressions, I won’t pretend to determine; but I could not help thinking it savoured of attention to men more than to God. I know the apology frequently made for such language is, that the common people require it--it fixes their attention, and affords matter for conversation afterwards; for a sentence out of the common road is more remembered than all the rest. This may be true; but the effect it has is only a loud laugh among their acquaintances; not one person is edified, and many are offended by such like expressions. Some ministers I have known run into the other extreme, and think something grand must be uttered to strike the audience; but this seems to me as unnecessary as the other, and both have a twang of self-conceit, and seem like leaning to carnal wisdom. Truth, simple truth, requires no embellishments, nor should it be degraded; we are not to add or to take from it, but to remember the power is of God wholly. My reverend friend, as an old man, might be indulged in his favourite peculiarities, if they would stop with him; but others catch the infection, and we find young ministers and common people indulging themselves in the same way--they think they are authorized so to do by such an example. Wit in any person is dangerous and often mischievous, when used improperly, and especially on religious subjects; for as the professing part of an audience will much longer retain a witty or a low expression, than one more serious, so will the wicked part of it too, and turn it to the disadvantage of religion. I recollect but one humorous passage in all the Bible, which is that of Elijah with the Baalites; and when the time, place, and circumstances are properly considered, nothing could be more seasonable--nothing so effectually expose the impotency of their false god and the absurdity of their vain worship. The prophets often speak ironically, sometimes satirically, but I do not remember of their ever speaking ludicrously. Our Lord and his apostles never had recourse to any such methods. The short abstracts we have of their sermons and conversations are all in serious strain, and ministers cannot copy after better examples. I dare not say that giving liberty to a man’s natural turn, or an endeavour to put and keep the people in good humour, is sinful; but this I may assert, such a method is universally followed on the stage, and in all places of public entertainment; and therefore it seems to me to savour much more of the old man than of the new.

“I remember you once jocularly informed me you was born with a fool’s cap on: pray, my dear sir, is it not high time it was pulled off? Such an accoutrement may suit a natural birth, and be of service; but surely it has nothing to do with a spiritual one, nor ever can be made ornamental to a serious man, much less to a Christian minister. I waive mentioning Scripture injunctions, such as, ‘Let your speech be with grace,’ &c., as you know these better than I do. Surely they should have some weight, for idle and unprofitable words stand forbidden. If it should please God to give you to see things as I do, you will think it necessary to be more guarded; but should you think me mistaken, I trust it will make no interruption in our friendship that I am thus free with you, as it proceeds from a sincere love and regard. The Tabernacle people are in general wild and enthusiastic, and delight in anything out of the common, which is a temper of mind, though in some respects necessary, yet should never be encouraged. If you and some few others, who have the greatest influence over them, would use the curb, instead of the spur, I am persuaded the effect would be very blessed. Wild fire is better than no fire; but there is a divine warmth between these two extremes which the real Christian catches, and which, when obtained, is evidenced by a cool head and a warm heart, and makes him a glorious, shining example to all around him. I desire to be earnest in prayer that we may be more and more partakers of this heavenly wisdom, and ascribe all might, majesty, and dominion to the Lord alone. I am, dear Sir, yours affectionately,

“JOHN THORNTON.”

The reply to this letter is an honour equally to both correspondents: it is addressed to John Thornton, Esq., and dated Everton, October 22, 1765:--

“Dear and honoured Sir--Your favour of the 17th requires an answer, attended with a challenge. And I do hereby challenge you, and defy all your acquaintances to prove, that I have a single correspondent half so honest as yourself. Epistolary intercourses are become a polite traffic; and he that can say pretty things, and wink at bad things, is an admired correspondent. Indeed, for want of due authority and meekness on one side, and of patience and humility on the other, to give or to take reproof, a fear of raising indignation, instead of conviction, often puts a bar on the door of my lips; for I find where reproof does not humble, it hardens; and the seasonable time of striking, if we can catch it, is when the iron is hot--when the heart is melted down in a furnace. Then it submits to the stroke, and takes and retains the impression. I wish you would exercise the trade of a Gospel limner, and draw the features of all my brethren in black, and send them their portraits. I believe you would do them justice every way, by giving every cheek its proper blush, without hiding a dimple upon it. Yet I fear, if your subsistence depended on this business, you would often want a morsel of bread, unless I sent you a quartern loaf from Everton. As to myself, you know the man: odd things break from me as abruptly as croaking from a raven. I was born with a fool’s cap. ‘True (you say), yet why is the cap not put off?--it suits the first Adam, but not the second.’ A very proper question, and my answer is this: a fool’s cap is not put off so readily as a night-cap. One cleaves to the head and one to the heart. Not many prayers only, but many furnaces, are needful for this purpose. And, after all, the same thing happens to a tainted heart as to a tainted cask, which may be sweetened by many washings and firings, yet a scent remains still. Late furnaces have singed the bonnet of my cap, but the crown still abides on my head; and I must confess that the crown so abides in whole or in part, for want of a closer walk with God, and nearer communion with him. ”When I creep near the throne, this humour disappears, or is tempered so well as not to be distasteful. Hear, Sir, how my Master deals with me: when I am running wild, and saying things somewhat rash or very quaint, he gives me an immediate blow on my breast, which stuns me. Such a check I received whilst I was uttering that expression in prayer you complained of; but the bolt was too far shot to be recovered. Thus I had intelligence from above before I received it from your hand. However, I am bound to thank you, and do hereby acknowledge myself reimbursed for returning your note.

“And now, dear Sir, having given you an honest account of myself, and acknowledged the obligation I owe you, I would return the obligation in the best manner I am able. It has been a matter of surprise to me how Dr. Conyers could accept of Deptford living, and how Mr. Thornton could present him to it. The Lord says, ‘_Woe to the idle shepherd that leaveth his flock_.’ Is not Helmsley flock, and a choice flock too, left--left altogether, and left in the hands, not of shepherds to feed, but of wolves to devour them? Has not lucre led him to Deptford, and has not a family connexion overruled your private judgment? You may give me a box on the ear for these questions, if you please, and I will take it kindly, and still love and pray for you. The Lord bless you, and bless your family, and bless your affectionate servant,

“JOHN BERRIDGE.”

At the close of this letter Mr. Berridge alludes to a circumstance which may require some explanation. Mr. Thornton was induced, in 1765, to visit Dr. Conyers, then rector of Helmsley, in the North Riding of Yorkshire. Delighted as such men must be with each other, they became friends, and soon after brothers, for Mr. Thornton’s sister, Mrs. Knipe, a rich and pious widow, was united to Dr. Conyers in 1765. They were the blessing of their district; but their happiness was not long-lived, for a lingering illness carried off Mrs. Conyers, to the deep regret of the parish; yet was this stroke less heavy than that by which it was followed, for within eighteen months the rectory of St. Paul’s, Deptford, the presentation to which had been purchased by Mr. Thornton, became vacant, and Dr. Conyers was removed from his parishioners, to their heartfelt sorrow. They were his children in the Gospel; and when we say that the regular communicants were eighteen hundred, we need add nothing in his praise. But he quitted them, and to avoid the confusion that he apprehended from their vehement leave-taking,[185] he quitted Helmsley at midnight. His departure has been defended by some and blamed by others; but by his parishioners his loss was the more deplored, as his successor was more of the wolf than the sheep-dog, and devastated rather than kept the fold.